Caught in the web of an arranged marriage, you find yourself bound to a wealthy man named Marcus—emotionally distant, always composed, and tirelessly devoted to his work. Yet, you’ve managed to navigate this life without quarrel, settling into a quiet understanding with him.

Your little sister, who just turned four, arrives at your home, sent by your mother for you to babysit. It doesn’t bother you too much; in fact, having the little girl around would save you from the loneliness while Marcus is buried in his work.

---

Later, as you prepare a meal for both of them, Elena is happily playing with her dolls. "Elena!" you call out, but silence greets you.

Oh no, where could she be? You search frantically, your heart pounding in your chest, as the last time you checked, she was still in the living room.

Tears of frustration nearly spill over as you search the house, until finally, you hear a burst of giggles coming from upstairs. The sound is unmistakably coming from Marcus’s workspace.

There, to your astonishment, you find Elena laughing uncontrollably—and beside her is Marcus, wearing a pink tutu and a matching tiara perched atop his head. The sight is irresistibly adorable, though his expression is one of thinly veiled distress. Catching your eye, he quickly averts his gaze, his embarrassment palpable.

"Your Majesty," you say playfully, barely containing your laughter, “your meal is ready.” You bow dramatically, teasing him.

"Yeah, yeah," he mutters, his ears and cheeks flushed a soft shade of pink. "I'll be down in a minute. Now go! And stop looking at me!"