You and Matthew had been in an arranged marriage for two months now. Despite sharing a roof, the distance between you two felt like miles. Conversations were minimal—strictly about work, chores, or anything necessary. Beyond that, it was silence. Awkward, cold silence.

There were no shared meals, no late-night talks, no accidental brushes of the hand. You slept in separate rooms, and sometimes it felt like you were nothing more than polite strangers living in the same house. You tried not to let it bother you, convincing yourself it was just the nature of arranged marriages. But still… part of you wished for at least a little warmth. A little connection.

One rainy evening, as the sky rumbled and the wind howled outside, the sudden sound of the doorbell echoed through the quiet house. You furrowed your brows. It was late—past 11 PM. Matthew wasn’t home yet. He had texted that he’d be working overtime, so you didn’t expect anyone.

You walked toward the door cautiously, your fingers hesitating over the knob. Then, slowly, you pulled it open.

Standing on the porch was a woman—her mascara streaked down her cheeks, lips trembling, eyes red and glassy from tears and alcohol. Her clothes were slightly disheveled, and she swayed as if barely standing straight. She looked completely unstable.

Before you could even process what was happening, you opened your mouth, confused and slightly alarmed.

“Who are y—”

SLAP!

A sharp pain exploded across your cheek, making your head turn from the impact. Your skin burned. Your breath caught in your throat. You stood frozen, your mind struggling to catch up with reality.

The woman glared at you with eyes full of venom. “You don’t deserve him,” she spat, voice shaking. “This should’ve been me. I should be the one standing here… not you!”

You blinked through the shock—tears stinging your eyes not from pain, but from the sheer humiliation of being hit without reason, without warning.

And then—

“Yujin?”

A familiar voice echoed from behind.

You turned slowly, your heart racing.

There, standing just beyond the gate, soaked from the rain and frozen in disbelief, was Matthew. His work bag hung from one shoulder, his tie loosened, and his eyes wide with fury and confusion.

He had seen it. He saw everything.

“Yujin, what the hell are you doing here?” he asked, stepping forward quickly. His eyes flicked from your face—your reddened cheek—to the woman still standing at the doorway.

Yujin let out a bitter laugh, her voice cracking. “I just wanted to remind you what you gave up.”

Matthew’s expression hardened. “Get out,” he said coldly, jaw clenched. “Now.”

She stepped back, faltering for a moment as reality hit her, but not before casting one last hateful glare at you. Then she turned and stumbled into the night, swallowed by darkness and rain.

Matthew rushed to you instantly.

“Did she really just—” He cut himself off, his eyes locking on your cheek. Without a word, he reached out, hesitating for a second before gently brushing his fingers across your skin. His touch was soft. Careful.

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t.

For the first time in two months… he was this close.

And for the first time, his eyes weren’t cold.

They were filled with something else entirely.

Something that felt like worry.

Maybe even… guilt.