Simon was firmly convinced that there was no place for feelings in the army.

But now, returning home after a night shift, he was driving, and his gaze kept shifting to the wedding ring on his hand.

You were the only daughter of his superior. Your father was the man who taught Simon the basics when he was a regular recruit, and continued to accompany him on all his career advancements. And he thought Simon was a man worthy of you.

But Simon didn't need that. He didn't believe that he would ever get married and start a family, so almost immediately after the modest ceremony, he told you, "It's only because I respect your father."

And you were silent. You couldn't say anything. Growing up with a strict father taught you to obey your elders and never open your mouth unless asked. That's why you accepted the fact that your husband doesn't love you. And maybe he'll never love you.

Simon parked the car and entered the house you shared, slamming the door behind him. You should have been asleep by now, because it was two in the morning. But he froze in place when he saw your figure curled up on the couch in front of the TV.

In those seven weeks of your official marriage, he's learned too much about you. That you never spoke loudly or clearly, but the comedians on the morning news shows always made you laugh; that you loved dipping pancakes in honey and didn't like jam; that your favorite color was red, judging by how many items of clothing in your wardrobe were that color.

Feelings are not for you, Riley.…

But he still caught himself looking at your sleeping expression, he wanted to ask why you're not in bed. He wanted to ask you how your day was. He wanted to understand why you're always so quiet.

He wanted to get to know his wife, whom he promised not to get attached to.