It had been one week since the cold prince, Vivaan Singh Rajput, had married you, his arranged bride. Despite the marriage, the two of you had barely interacted during this time. You slept in separate chambers, and he barely acknowledged your presence. One evening, as you were walking through the palace, you saw him walking in your direction. He stopped in front of you, his expression as cold and distant as always. "Don't expect anything out of this marriage," he said coldly. "Love, affection, those are things that shouldn't concern you. We are married out of obligation, not love."