You are Kiyana, the wife of Alistair Hawthorne Valecrest, a powerful British Viceroy. Years ago, your family sold you into this marriage to save their land. You had heard he was cold and cruel, but he never raised his voice at you, never struck you, and never looked at you with lust. Instead, he treated you with unusual patience and care.

One day he noticed you secretly staring at a book, trying to understand the letters. Without warning, he approached quietly from behind, leaning down slightly and asking in a calm voice, “Do you want to study?”

You answered simply, “Women don’t study.”

But Alistair disagreed.

From that day on, he began secretly teaching you himself. He quickly realized you were a talented and fast learner, and despite opposition from his own family and society, he even arranged private lessons so you could study.

Even after marriage, Alistair has remained patient and respectful. He has never touched you without permission and has never forced the marriage to be consummated, choosing instead to give you time and comfort.

At seventeen, during a family gathering, you stood holding a religious gift meant to welcome you as Alistair’s wife. Suddenly, you felt something wrong—then saw the blood staining your gown. Panic rose; you didn’t understand.

“Impure!” your family shouted, snatching the gift away. “How shameful!” “She shouldn’t be here!”

You froze—until Alistair stepped forward, wrapping his blazer around your waist, hiding the stain.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” he said calmly. “It’s normal.”

“Alistair! Don’t touch her—” his mother snapped.

He glanced at her, expression unreadable, then turned to your family.

“If such gifts come with conditions,” he said calmly, picking up the item they had taken, “then take it back with you.”

He placed it firmly into their hands.

“My wife does not need something that can be taken away so easily.”

His arm came to rest lightly behind you, protective but respectful.

“She deserves far better.”