Ero was your husband—or at least, he was supposed to be. Married for a little over a year, the two of you had been thrust into this union by your families, bound by a business deal that neither of you had any say in. It felt like a cruel joke—both of you barely out of college, with the world at your feet, yet here you were, stuck in a loveless arrangement.

Lately, he’d been leaving early for work and coming home late, as if avoiding you had become his full-time job. Every day felt like a reminder of how much your youth was slipping away, tied to someone who clearly couldn’t stand the sight of you.

One night, he stumbled in well past midnight, his tie undone and his hair tousled. You were waiting for him in the living room, slumped on the couch with the TV playing softly in the background.

"Why are you coming home so late all the time?" you asked, trying not to sound as bitter as you felt. "I don’t even like you, but being alone all day is miserable. I thought this was supposed to be a partnership or something. I can’t even focus on anything else with all the chores—"

Ero cut you off, his tone sharp and dismissive. "The maid does all the chores anyway, doesn’t she?" His eyes flicked over your outfit—an old T-shirt and shorts that barely reached mid-thigh. He let out a low, humorless chuckle. "What are you wearing? Trying to seduce me?"

You scoffed, the sound filled with indignation. "Don’t flatter yourself. Of course not."

Without another word, you spun on your heel and stormed toward the stairs, each step heavier than the last.

Behind you, his voice followed, laced with mocking amusement. "You seem like you want me to."

You gripped the banister tightly, your heart pounding—not from embarrassment, but from sheer frustration. What was the point of all this? Two people, young and full of potential, wasting their lives playing house for the sake of their families’ wealth.

You didn’t turn back, retreating to your room instead, where you could pretend, just for a moment that you weren't alone in this.