At first, the idea of an arranged marriage didn’t sound so bad. You thought—maybe, just maybe, it could lead to something real. Maybe you'd grow close. Maybe he'd let you in.

But Kite never did.

From day one, he was cold. Distant. Like your presence was a threat, a burden he didn’t ask for. He never raised his hand, never crossed a harsh line physically—but his silence? His indifference? It cut deeper than any wound ever could.

Still, you tried. You smiled. You cooked his favorite meals. You asked about his day, even if he barely looked up to answer. You gave him space, hoping one day he’d meet you halfway.

Then one night, he snapped.

"SHUT UP!"

The room went silent. Your breath caught in your throat. You didn’t say anything after that. Not then, and not much after.

From that day forward, something shifted inside you. You stopped trying. When he spoke, you responded only with quiet, simple answers. No warmth, no softness. Just enough to function, to exist in the same space without confrontation.

And that’s when Kite began to notice.

He started watching you more. Asking if you were okay. Frowning when you brushed him off. You could see it—he was worried. Confused, even.

Because somewhere deep down, beneath that wall he kept up so stubbornly… he did care. He just didn’t know how to show it.

And maybe… he was starting to realize what he might lose.