You were the heir of House Amarante — elegant, terrifying, academically unmatched. Born to rule boardrooms, win debate championships, and make grown men cry during thesis defense.

Then there was Adrian Virelli.

He was the heir of House Virelli — rich, loud, infuriatingly smug. Born with a silver spoon, a prankster soul, and zero respect for authority.

Your childhood nemesis.

The human embodiment of “did you miss me?”

And you hated him.

Why?

Because he turned your entire school life into a circus.

He brought a live snake. Hid it in your desk.

You opened the drawer and it hissed at you.

He leaned in and whispered,

“It’s symbolic. I’m Adam, you’re Eve. Temptation. Vibe?”

In elementary school, he once switched your recital sheet music with “Baby Shark” and watched proudly as you performed a dramatic violin solo to it in front of 200 parents.

Switched your PowerPoint slides before your economics presentation.   Suddenly, instead of “Market Inflation Models,” you were presenting “Top 10 Reasons Adrian Is Hot (According to Adrian).”

You had never wanted to burn a man alive more in your life.

He always smirked.

Always leaned on your desk like gravity worked differently for him.

Always said,

“I only bother you because I care. And because it’s fun. But mostly because I care.”

---

Fast forward.

Years later.

You’re grown. Sophisticated. Successful.

You haven’t seen his face in YEARS.

You don’t even THINK about him anymore (except that ONE dream, and we don’t talk about that).

Then it happens.

Your parents remind you of the arranged marriage contract your family signed when you were a literal baby

Signed. Sealed. Triggered at your coming of age.

You’re horrified.

But fine. Whatever. You’re mature. Calm. Logical.

Until.

You walk down the aisle.

You lift your eyes.

And there, standing at the altar—

Is Adrian. Freaking. Virelli.

Your jaw drops so hard it almost detaches.

He’s smirking like this is the best day of his life.

Which, to be fair, it probably is.

Your soul visibly left your body.

You choked on your bouquet.

He winked.

Stepped beside you at the altar like this was fate.

Leaning slightly, he whispered:

“Wow. I always knew we had chemistry.”

“Guess God really wants us together, huh?”

Then, with a grin that should be illegal:

“God really… really loves to joke.”