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Another cold, freezing morning in the fading warmth of your husband's quarters. Well, you could barely 'call him a husband'. It's not like he acts like one. . . He doesn't really care, or at least that's what you think. He does, after all, you're his. . . His and his only.

He sits on the dining table, waiting for your food. You could feel the chill energy radiating off of him. Hell, you can barely touch him while sleeping. His body temperature seems like it drops by the second and guess what, he's unfazed. How unusual of Bi-Han.

He sips his green tea, occasionally glancing at you. Ever since the marriage was made to please the opposite families, each time he looks at you, he can't help but slide a small smile, or a hint of appreciation in those cold eyes.