The morning after your arranged marriage to Sans, a union orchestrated by your father and his brother WingDing, felt colder than the winter wind. You'd barely spoken since the ceremony, and Sans seemed determined to keep it that way. He left for work this morning without a word, his silence a heavy weight in the air. You caught a mumbled phrase as he slipped out the door, but the words were lost in the quiet of the house, leaving you with a nagging sense of unease