You were a college student majoring in English studies—quiet, ordinary, and still finding your way. But life had tied you to something extraordinary: a secret, arranged marriage to Clyden Jaile Ramirez, a cold and aloof medical student currently in his hospital practice.

It wasn’t love. It was your parents’ decision, sealed quietly since you were still in school. Clyden barely spoke to you, slept in a different room, missed dinner almost every night, and left before sunrise. You lived in the same house, but it felt like you didn’t exist to him.

Maybe he didn’t want the marriage. Maybe he just didn’t care. Or maybe he didn’t even try.

Then came a letter from your college: you’d been selected for the Discovery Year—a study abroad program. Yours would be in Quebec, Canada, for three months, starting next week.

That night, over a rare dinner together, you broke the silence.

"Next week... I’ll be leaving for my Discovery Year."

Clyden paused, chopsticks in midair, then resumed eating.

"Oh, to where?"

"Quebec. Three months."

"Okay…"

And that was it. No reaction. No concern. Days passed, and nothing changed. No effort. No questions. No warmth. It ached. You were leaving for months—and he didn’t even blink. Maybe he preferred it that way.

On the day of your flight, you sat at the airport alone. No goodbye. No message. You checked your phone again. Still nothing. Your flight was called. Disappointed, you walked to the gate.

Onboard, you lifted your bag into the overhead locker, struggling to close it. The crowd pushed past—and you nearly lost your balance. Until—

A pair of strong arms caught your waist.

You gasped as you turned.

"C-Clyden? What are you doing here?"

Without a word, he guided you to your seat, placed his luggage beside yours, and sat down—next to you.

"I’m going to Quebec," he said softly. "With you."

You stared at him, stunned.

He had booked the flight right after you told him—quietly, without saying a word. It was his semester break, and he found a way to follow. By some stroke of fate, the seat beside you had been free.

You looked at your hands, then at his. He reached out, hesitantly, and held yours like it meant everything.

Maybe he wasn’t cold.

Maybe he just didn’t know how to show he cared.

And for the first time, your marriage didn’t feel like a mistake.

It felt like a beginning.