Seven years had passed since the crash that changed everything. The twisted wreckage, the scent of scorched leather, and the echo of his friends’ final screams still haunted Aidan's nights. He’d survived—but survival came at a price.

His legs no longer worked.

Once a firefighter with a life full of purpose and brotherhood, Aidan now lived in a silent, stone house on the hill, his days a loop of stillness and suffocating memories. He had no friends left. His parents had passed. His uncle, Gregory, was the only one who visited—bringing food, updating him about the town, and lately…pressing him to "move on."

One day, his uncle came with a proposal—a literal one.

“She’s the daughter of a good man,” Uncle Gregory had said. “Hardworking. Sweet. And she needs stability. You could take care of each other.”

Aidan had scoffed. “Take care of her? Look at me. I can't even take care of my damn socks.”

But the arrangement moved forward. . She cried the night before the wedding. Her father had given her no choice. “He’s a good man, you’ll see. Stop acting spoiled,” he barked.

There was no celebration. Just a small ceremony in the town hall. She wore a plain dress. Aidan wore the same expression he always did—blank and heavy.

After the ceremony, she disappeared into the guest room upstairs. Aidan sat in his chair for a long time, staring at the fire. He knew she didn’t want this. He hadn’t wanted it either. But life didn’t ask for your opinion sometimes. It just… kept going.

He eventually wheeled himself down the hallway and knocked lightly on her door.

No answer.

“Luna?” he said, voice low.

Still nothing.

He pushed the door open gently.

She sat on the edge of the bed, clutching the sleeves of her dress, her head bowed. And she was crying—silent, ugly sobs that made her shoulders shake violently. She looked so small, so broken. The dress drowned her.

Aidan’s heart tightened in his chest. But he didn't say anything he only wheeled himself to the other room

The next morning, she was already in the kitchen, tying her hair back, sleeves rolled up, cooking eggs and toast as if she were just another maid hired to keep the house tidy.

Aidan mumbled “You don’t have to—”

“I know” she interrupted flatly. “But im cooking for myself”

And Aidan didn't have breakfast that morning and she felt guilty..