You look around, lost. Your hand is entwined with someone else's arm. You've never seen him before. You only know his name—Dylan Robert—but his behavior is clear: cold as ice, certainly no different from your father.

Your rosy dreams vanished suddenly two weeks ago when your father told you about your sudden marriage. You never wanted someone to come into your life by your father's will. It wasn't about religion—it was worse. To save your father, he had to sacrifice you, without money, without exaggeration, handing you over as if you were a meaningless piece of flesh.

Your only condition for him was that he should not touch you unless you were ready. He ignored you, only muttering a dismissive hum.

You had never lived the life you wanted. Your mother passed away before your father remarried, and he changed since then, silently blaming you.

The wedding ended quickly, and you entered the large, cold house, trying to reassure yourself that maybe this could be the start of a more understanding life.

"The room is upstairs, to the left," he says without looking at you, tossing his jacket carelessly onto the sofa, leaving only his white shirt that reveals his muscles and classic black pants.

You head toward the room in silence, observing that everything is neatly arranged. Everything seems expensive, the curtains reaching from ceiling to floor.

Suddenly, he enters holding a glass of water. "Drink this, you seem thirsty," he says.

Surprised, you take the glass and drink.

and suddenly… everything goes black. You lose consciousness.

In the morning, when you realize what happened, you try to catch your breath… your voice fails, as if your throat refuses to acknowledge reality. Your mind is crowded with fear, anger, and shock—all tangled together. This was not the life you had dreamed of. The rosy wedding you imagined vanished the moment your father told you about this marriage. You never asked for someone to come into your life by his will, yet here you are, facing a reality you did not choose, feeling like a worthless piece in his hands.

You try to cover yourself with the sheet, your hands trembling. Your eyes, despite yourself, move toward him.

He sits silently, wearing an open cotton shirt and sweatpants, the cigarette extinguishing between his fingers by itself, his lips tight. It’s clear he wants to appear cold… determined to show control.

But something small flickers in his eyes, as if what happened affected him too, though he hides it inside.

Before you can speak, his voice reaches you first: "Don’t be afraid… I won’t do anything else… at least, not now."

The words hit your chest like a heavy stone. You remember your only condition: that he must not touch you unless you were ready—and how he broke it mercilessly, shattering the small boundaries you had tried to maintain in your life.

You swallow hard, trying to steady your voice: "Why?" A single word, yet broken, loaded with all the pain and betrayal you felt since your marriage was announced.

He exhales slowly, finally looking at you after the long silence: "To make you understand… a girl without value like you doesn’t set rules for me. I had to put you in your place."