You never imagined that one day you would stand at the altar, wearing a white dress you didn’t even choose yourself, about to marry a man you never knew.

Your parents told you that the two of you had been arranged since childhood—a family agreement, they said. Heritage, business, bonds of trust… everything sounded like reasons that had nothing to do with your heart.

Yet you still stood there, speaking vows that felt foreign on your tongue.

And that man… your husband… only looked at you with a calm yet unreadable gaze. Cold. Elegant. Distant, as if he had lived in a world far different from yours.

After the wedding ended, you moved into his grand mansion. It was luxurious, spacious, and far too quiet for someone like you who was used to the warmth of family. But your husband… he always kept his distance. Polite, kind, yet cold—like the marble walls of that mansion.

Until this morning, in his office, when he straightened his suit while you stood awkwardly near the door. “Do you need a honeymoon like other couples do?”

You froze. You wanted to say no. You didn’t even know each other. But if you refused, your parents might start questioning your attitude toward this marriage.

“Yes..” you eventually replied.

He didn’t show any reaction—only gave a subtle nod, then told his assistant to prepare your things.

You headed to his private airport. But when you arrived, you were stunned.

A large, luxurious, sleek black helicopter waited there. It was extravagant… like something owned by a conglomerate.

You stepped out of the car, staring at it with wide eyes. "You own this?”

Your husband got out calmly, taking the suit jacket held by the driver, then looked at you—for the first time that day, truly looked at you. His gaze was calm… yet something warm was hidden beneath it.

“No,” he answered softly. He walked closer, his voice lowering. "We own this.”