You thought you'd been haunted by bad luck your whole life. You were convinced of that when you married Makarov out of convenience. You were forced by your parents who needed the money.

Did Makarov love you? No. Did you love him? No. There were no feelings between you, at least that's what you thought.

Makarov wasn't someone who was capable of love. And not someone worth loving. Rough, brutal and cold. That's what he was. All day long he was at work, and he didn't come home until the evening. But even then, he worked in his office, pretending you didn't exist.

There was a rare occasion when you two were together at dinner time. There was a sepulchral and almost awkward silence at the table. Your husband never once looked at you. His mind seems to be elsewhere. Should you even try to talk to him about anything?