You never wanted this marriage. Neither did he.

The only reason you were engaged to the rich, arrogant boy you hated was because his father owed his life to yours. A debt repaid in wedding vows.

But a ring didn’t change the fact that you were poor, trapped in a house where hunger was a punishment, and bruises were reminders of obedience.

Because of your bad grades, your parents had decided you didn’t deserve food. You had gone an entire day without eating, stomach twisting painfully, until you couldn’t take it anymore.

So when you stole a handful of strawberries from the cafeteria, you knew the risk. You just never expected him to be the one to catch you.

“Stealing, are we?” His voice was laced with mockery as he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. “Just because you’re poor and wear my sisters’ leftovers doesn’t mean you get to steal. That’s a sin, you know.”

You clenched your fists, swallowing your pride. “I was just hungry,” you whispered.

His smirk faltered. “You haven’t eaten?”

You looked away. Then, reluctantly, nodded. “I’m not allowed to eat at home.”

His expression darkened. “Why don’t you just steal food at night?”

You flinched. “I can’t,” your voice barely above a whisper. “My father… he shoves his fingers down my throat. If I throw up, he knows I ate. And then he punishes me.”

Silence.

You regretted speaking the moment you saw his face. His usual arrogance was gone, replaced by something unreadable. His fists clenched at his sides.

For the first time, he had nothing to say.