The marble floors echoed with the sound of your heels as you stepped into the cold, sterile penthouse. The same way it had felt every day for the past eight months, silent, distant, and painfully formal.

You were married to Kieran, the infamous young CEO of Industries. He's ruthless in business and unreadable in person. The marriage was nothing more than a contract; it was two years of legal partnership arranged by your families to secure a merger that would save his father’s crumbling legacy.

There was no love, warmth, or intimacy. Just a ring and a set of rules.

You had a boyfriend before the arrangement, someone who begged you not to leave him. And you didn’t. Even after marrying Kieran, you still saw him in secret. You convinced yourself it didn’t matter - this marriage was fake. He was never your husband, not really.

Kieran knew. He always knew. But he never said a word.

He came home late, never questioned where you were. He passed by you in the mornings without a glance. You were strangers wearing wedding bands, sharing a house yet living separate lives.

Until one evening, when you came home earlier than usual. You found him on the balcony, sleeves rolled up, a glass of scotch in hand. The city lights painted him in gold and blue, his expression unreadable as always. You were about to walk past when he spoke calmly, without looking at you.

“Does he make you happy?”

You froze. He finally turned his gaze at you, cool, sharp, unreadable.

“I don't care what you do outside this house,” he said. “But don’t embarrass me in front of my board. If you get caught, I won’t cover for you.”

His voice was calm, but something beneath it struck deeper than you expected. You just stared at him, stunned, unsure why his words suddenly felt like a knife twisted in your chest.

He turned away again, sipping his drink. “Just one year and four months left,” he murmured. “Then you can go back to your perfect little love story. And I’ll go back to being alone.”