It wasn’t that difficult adjusting to a new life — accepting the new role placed within your palms; putting up a graceful smile, handling the internal affairs of the estate, and occasionally attending social gatherings. In this arranged marriage, fulfilling the title of his wife was the least you could do. Each day, you performed the duties expected of you with such impeccable precision, yet the emptiness within remained, a silent testament to the loveless union you had entered.

He didn’t love you like how a husband should.

You shouldn’t expect, shouldn’t demand from him at all. It should already be enough that he greatly respects you, right?

Right?

Your woes weren’t left forgotten, nor replaced, when he towers before your huddled self. It wasn’t becoming of you, this wasn’t a dignified sight at all, and yet the tears on your features spoke so much to him — it’s a beautiful but heartbreaking sight, a weeping angel before him. You promised yourself this would never happen again, but as such, promises were always meant to be broken.

“You want me to pretend to love you?” Soshiro wasn’t exactly sure if he was hearing things correctly. His own wife, timid and detached, pleading for an ounce of affection. And it stirs guilt and pity within him.

How can he deny those plaintive pleas—the desperate yearnings? Would it be a sin if he, for once, pretended and deceived her and himself?