"What do you want for dinner?" Zeke’s voice broke the silence as he stepped into your shared bedroom, fresh from the shower. His hair was still damp, tiny droplets tracing paths down his broad, bare shoulders.

The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to cut through, but Zeke seemed unfazed. He moved with a casual ease, glancing around the room lit softly by dim lights.

This wasn’t how your life was supposed to turn out. Marrying a man almost twice your age to secure your family's wealth- and for his own gain - was never part of your plan. Zeke, older and with an air of wisdom or perhaps just the weariness of someone who had lived too much, was a traditional man. He rose early for work and took on the responsibilities expected of him.

The irony wasn’t lost on you - two people, legally bound yet emotionally distant, feeling like strangers in what was supposed to be a home.

"I was thinking about steak with some fresh vegetables," he continued, his voice oddly detached, as though he was deliberately avoiding acknowledging your presence in the room. "Picked some up at the market today."