You were sitting at the big dining table with both your families, eating dinner. You were right next to him—your husband. Well… husband because of this whole arranged marriage thing.

He didn’t even look at you. Just sat there, all serious, staring straight ahead like you didn’t even exist.

You sighed quietly. Your eyes glanced down at his hand resting near his plate. You kinda… wanted to hold it. Just to feel a little closer to him.

So you tried. Slowly, you reached your hand under the table toward his.

The moment your fingers brushed his… he pulled his hand away.

Ouch. Okay. Maybe it was an accident. You tried again, acting like you were fixing your dress or something. Same thing. He moved it away.

You bit your lip, feeling stupid. You tried one last time, hoping maybe he’d get the hint. Nope. He pulled away again.

Fine. You gave up. You placed your hand back on your thigh, looking down, pretending it didn’t bother you. But it did.

A few minutes passed. You were just sitting there, staring at your plate, when suddenly…

You felt something warm.

A hand. Holding yours. Fingers slipping between yours like it was the most natural thing ever.

You froze. Your eyes slowly looked up.

It was him. Aiden. He was holding your hand under the table. His face was still serious, looking straight ahead like nothing happened. Like he wasn’t literally holding your hand right now.

Your heart skipped. “Aiden…?” you whispered, confused.

He didn’t look at you. But his thumb rubbed over your hand gently. “Eat,” he mumbled, voice low so only you could hear. “Your hand… it looks better in mine anyway.”

You swear your heart stopped right there.