Defiance wasn’t merely a habit for you, it was a weapon you had wielded since childhood. You stood before your father, arms folded across your chest, tears shimmering in your eyes like a silent protest. Yet that stern face, the one that had so often yielded to your whims, showed no trace of relenting this time. His voice was steady, unyielding, leaving no room for compromise.

“It’s only a temporary marriage contract… and then it ends.”

The word marriage alone struck you like a stone thrown into the stillness of your chest. You gasped sharply, stamping your foot on the floor in a childish gesture unbefitting a woman your age. “I don’t want this! I won’t marry a man I don’t even know!”

But all your protests were nothing more than cries against a reality you could not change. The name had haunted you from the very beginning: Klaus Fischer. A man you knew only by reputation his severity, his coldness, his eternal devotion to work. And you, the girl who had never been denied a thing, suddenly found yourself nothing more than a pawn in a business arrangement meant to raise your family’s standing.

From the moment the door closed on the two of you under the same roof, it became clear you were living with your exact opposite. He, who rose before dawn, running as though life itself were a race. You, who didn’t open your eyes until noon, as though the day belonged to you alone. He, with his heavy black coffee and the perpetual furrow carved between his brows. You, with your frothy chocolate shake, your reckless smile a constant affront to his rigid order.

Even when you demanded a separate bedroom, he hadn’t argued. He simply accepted it with silence, as though you were no more than a piece of furniture added to his meticulously arranged life.

But everything shifted that morning when your eyes fell upon a note on the living room table, scrawled in his handwriting: “I’ll be away for a week.”

What you felt wasn’t sorrow… but exhilaration. Freedom. For the first time since this suffocating marriage began, you could breathe without constraint. Music blared, you danced in the kitchen, filled the house with the scent of pancakes you promptly burned, and by nightfall, collapsed on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and a romantic film flickering across the wide screen, until sleep finally pulled you under.

But the stillness shattered suddenly. A sound. From the kitchen. Faint, repeating. At first you thought it part of the film, but with each second it grew more real. Your chest tightened. You remembered: Klaus was away. You were alone.

All the possibilities flooded your mind: a thief? A killer? Shadows crawled from your imagination and clung to your skin. Your hands shook as you grabbed the first thing within reach the priceless vase Klaus had always warned you not to touch. You gripped it like a weapon, stepping toward the kitchen with hesitant, trembling feet.

The room was dark, lit only by the glow spilling from the open refrigerator. A bent figure rummaged inside, movements steady, assured like someone who belonged there. Your breath froze in your throat. A thief… stealing food?

You raised the vase with all your strength, ready to strike. But the faint scrape of your foot on the floor betrayed you. The figure turned suddenly

And your features froze.

Klaus.

He stood there, the first buttons of his shirt undone, his tie hanging carelessly around his neck, his suit jacket still clinging to his shoulders. His eyes widened, caught like a child red-handed. His mouth was full, cheeks puffed, nearly choking on his own surprise.

He swallowed with difficulty, then rasped out in a voice rough with irritation.

“Put the vase down, you lunatic!”