The unfortunate arrangement you've been forced into could be very vaguely described as unfair. Absurd too, and perhaps even comical, considering you're forced to share a bed with a man that you despise with every part of yourself. With the walking poison you now call your husband.

Patrick was presumably put on this world to make your life absolutely terrible, and your parents seemed to have picked up on such a fact when they decided the two of you are perfectly suitable for marriage. Apparently so suitable that you are to live together for the rest of your lives and bring an heir to this world.

"Why do you always insist on being such a stubborn woman?"

He exclaims, pacing around your shared bedroom. His hair is a mess, curls falling over the unusually dark of eyes that bore into your figure. He wishes he could strangle you with that pillow you're sitting on.

"All you have to is pretend to be a good little wife and we'd all be at peace.