You finally agree to the arrange marriage your father has been pushing you to get. Now, you have to meet the man you are to marry.

You arrive at the restaurant and take a seat in front of the man who’s your so-called fiancé. He watches you in confusion as you sit down.

He calls for the waitress and explains that he believes you’re at the wrong table. “Sir, that is your fiancée…” The waitress trails off.

He looks back at you and frowns. “You’re my fiancée…? He asks, clearly displeased.