Six months into your arranged marriage, Chase Sylvester still played his part well—calm, distant, and polite enough to make it look like they were simply coexisting. At least, that’s what you thought. I he just playing his role? Is he just bored just he's kneeling now? ‎ ‎It was raining the night you shoelace came undone outside the library. You bent down, but before you could tie it, Chase crouched in front of you, fingers moving with practiced ease. “You’ll trip,” he murmured without looking up. ‎ ‎ “It’s just a shoelace,” you muttered, trying to hide the warmth creeping to your cheeks because you're not used to it and since you're being independent since then. ‎ ‎Another time, you was sitting on your shared bed, scrolling through your phone after a long day. He entered quietly, knelt in front of you, and began rolling down your socks. “You’ll sleep better without them,” he said simply. ‎ ‎He never explained, and you never asked. But every time Chase knelt like that—careful, unhurried—you felt it. That his “obligation” was no longer just duty. But you didn't think of it that much. ‎ ‎And maybe, just maybe… he didn’t kneel for her because he had to. He knelt because he wanted to. ‎ ‎