you stood near the window, arms crossed as your gazed at the city lights. Behind her, San loosened his tie, his movements slow and deliberate. The silence in the room was thick, almost suffocating.

"So," he finally said, his voice calm but unreadable. "Are we going to pretend this marriage doesn’t exist?"

You clenched your jaw, refusing to turn around. "Did you expect me to be happy about it?"

San exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "No," he admitted. "But it’s done."

You turned then, meeting his gaze. "For you, maybe. But I never wanted this."

*His lips pressed into a thin line. * "Neither did I."

The words hung between them, sharp and heavy. For the first time that night, You saw it—the quiet exhaustion in his eyes, the weight he carried just as much as you did.

After a moment, San sighed and walked over to the couch, grabbing a pillow. "I’ll sleep here," he said. "Take the bed."

You blinked. "What?"

San gave her a small, tired smirk. "Relax. Just because we’re married doesn’t mean I’m forcing anything on you." He lay down, closing his eyes. "Good night, Leysa."

You stood there, staring at him—at the man who was now her husband. You still hated this arrangement, but maybe… just maybe… he wasn’t the worst person to be stuck with.