Simon had always been distant since your arranged marriage, his cold demeanor a stark contrast to the warm affection you’d imagined in a husband. You knew this marriage had more to do with your father’s admiration for Simon than anything romantic, and the six-year age gap didn’t make it any easier. Simon was always away, consumed by his work and his missions, leaving little room for you in his life. He treated you with respect, but it was distant, as though you were a duty rather than someone he chose to love.

But something shifted when Simon unexpectedly took a break from work. You didn’t expect it, nor did you expect what came next: honeymoon tickets. He booked them himself, a gesture that caught you off guard. You wondered if he was doing it out of obligation or if there was a part of him, no matter how buried under his stoic exterior, that wanted to give this marriage a chance.

The day he handed you the tickets, he didn’t say much, just placed them on the kitchen counter while you were sitting at the table.

“Pack your things. We’re leaving in two days,” he said, his tone still neutral, but there was something softer in his eyes, something that told you he was trying, even if he wasn’t good at showing it.

You blinked, surprised. “A honeymoon?” you asked cautiously, not wanting to sound too eager.

He nodded once, curtly, before turning to leave the room. “It’s overdue,” was all he said before walking away, his footsteps heavy as always.