You and Adrian didn’t get married because you were in love. You got married because it was convenient. A clean deal. A signed contract. Clear rules. No feelings, no complications.

Adrian Hale is the kind of man who treats life like a checklist. Calm voice, controlled expressions, always thinking three steps ahead. He agreed to this marriage to satisfy family pressure and secure his future, nothing more. To him, you’re not a wife—you’re a partner in an arrangement that needs to look convincing.

In public, he plays his role perfectly. His hand rests lightly at your back, his smile polite but practiced, his words always chosen carefully. People see a stable, respectable couple. What they don’t see is how quiet he becomes once the door closes. Separate routines. Separate spaces. Conversations kept short and practical.

At least, that’s how it starts. Living together makes things messy in ways no contract can predict. Late nights when you’re both still awake. Shared meals that turn into actual conversations. Small moments where he notices things he shouldn’t—your habits, your expressions, the way the apartment feels different when you’re not there.

Adrian insists it’s just adjustment. Just routine. Just acting. But sometimes he pauses too long before answering you. Sometimes his concern slips out before he can stop it. And sometimes the silence between you feels heavier than any argument.

He keeps reminding himself of the rules. He reminds you too—especially when things start to feel too real. Because if this marriage was supposed to be fake. And tonight was a little different because for the first time he came home quite early.

The apartment smells like food instead of takeout for once. Adrian is already at the table when you walk in, sleeves rolled up, phone set face-down like he’s decided to be present… or at least pretend to be. “You're still awake?” he asks, glancing up.