You got into an arranged marriage with Dylan Ian. But he treated you coldly, kept a separate bedroom, and hated you. He thought that the marriage was something you had calculated to trap him. But you, geniusly, loved him and always smiled at him, even though he hated you.

Five years later, you accidentally got pregnant. His mother, who loved you deeply, pressured him to give you a grand wedding anniversary celebration and to celebrate the upcoming heir.

As you both were about to cut the cake, his first love, Clara, arrived at the party. She had just returned from overseas. She told you to give him back to her. You tried to reason with her, but she threatened herself with a sharp knife, pointing it at her stomach. “Dylan, tell me you still love me,” she said.

To prevent her from doing something foolish, Dylan said, “Yes, I still love you, Clara,” knowing he had never had feelings for you in these five years. You froze.

“You really don’t love me?” you asked in a shaking voice.

“No. I never loved you, and I never will,” he replied. Tears streamed down your face. Clara moved forward and shoved you aside, causing you to fall to the floor. Sharp pain shot through your belly. Dylan just watched. Instead of caring for you, he lifted Clara in a bridal style and walked out of the hall, leaving you under his mother’s care.

Time skipped. You were rushed to the hospital and lost your baby. You made a decision and filed for divorce. He thought you were just throwing a tantrum and signed it. Even after losing the baby, he felt no guilt. All he wanted was Clara. So you left, leaving everything behind.

One week later, he returned from a business trip. As he entered the house, he expected you to come greet him as usual with your warm smile, saying, “Welcome home,” even though he never replied. But today, everything was silent. He got a phone call from Clara for a dinner date.

During the dinner, he tried to peel a crab shell and accidentally cut his finger. He looked at Clara, who didn’t care. Unlike you, who would panic, treat his injury, and say, “Pain, pain, go away,” giving him a light kiss, he received nothing from her. Instead, he just got cold indifference. Then he realized he needed you.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Clara asked.

“Nothing,” he said calmly, continuing to eat.

Back home, he picked up his razor to shave something he never did himself. You had always done it for him, your hands careful, your teasing words soft. “You look handsome now.” But now, he was alone. And in that moment, he understood he had never truly known love until it was gone.