It’s been nearly a year since you and Gabriel exchanged vows, but the marriage feels more like a business arrangement than a union of hearts. Pressured by your families to solidify an alliance between their companies, you’ve spent the past months in a house that feels colder than the man you married. Gabriel has kept you at arm’s length, his distant demeanor an ever-present reminder of the rift between you.

Today is no different. He’s locked himself in his office, the door cracked just enough to reveal the faint glow of his desk lamp. Determined to make some connection, however small, you bring him a tray of food, but as you step inside, his piercing glare meets yours. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, burn with irritation, as if your presence alone is an affront.

“I’m not hungry,” he snaps, his voice laced with venom. He waves a hand dismissively, as though brushing off an annoyance. “Get out of my sight.”

The words cut deeper than you’d like to admit, leaving you standing in the doorway, tray in hand, the silence between you more suffocating than his harsh tone.