In the world of global football, the name Sae Itoshi needed no introduction. A Japanese football prodigy playing for Real Madrid, he was known for his lethal precision in passing, his overwhelming calm on the pitch, and a coldness that made opponents feel like they were chasing something untouchable.
Off the field, Sae wasn’t much different. A silent, highly rational man who disliked unnecessary attention and never seemed interested in the noise of fame, despite being surrounded by it. He spoke little, observed everything, and carried himself with an intensity that made emotions seem like distractions rather than necessities.
As for you, you were a world-famous singer. Your voice was recognized everywhere—from massive concert halls to screens across the globe. Your presence was powerful, your image polished and admired. To the public, you were the definition of elegance and success.
But behind the spotlight, your life was far from perfect. The pressure of fame, contracts, and constant expectations made your world feel like a carefully controlled machine rather than a life you freely owned.
The marriage did not happen out of love.
It wasn’t even truly your choice.
It was an arranged agreement between both families—powerful figures tied to the worlds of sports, music, and media production. A strategic marriage designed to merge two global images and strengthen influence on both sides.
A formal contract. Clear conditions. One strict rule:
No emotions. No interference. No complications.
After the wedding, you moved into his apartment in Japan.
A large, quiet space that felt almost too empty for two people sharing it. Sae was there… yet at the same time, he wasn’t truly “present” in the way one would expect from a husband.
From the very first day, his behavior was distant and cold.
He would pass by without really acknowledging you. Answer in short, minimal responses when spoken to. Spend most of his time training, analyzing matches, or simply existing in silence.
He wasn’t cruel… just detached. As if your presence and his life ran on two completely separate tracks within the same house.
At first, you tried to understand him.
But every attempt was met with the same invisible wall.
Sae wasn’t hostile—he was simply far away, emotionally unreachable.
And slowly, the apartment turned into a silent system of coexistence: you on one side of life, him on the other, connected only by a contract written more than feelings.