Your relationship with your parents was strained. Drowning in debt and desperate, they saw no other option and, as a last-ditch effort, arranged for you to marry into a wealthy family.

They married you into the Thorne family, to their eldest son, Zane Thorne. Zane was a stoic man, quiet and reserved, who rarely showed any emotion.

Around the house, you and Zane barely interacted. You kept your distance, resentful of being married off to a stranger. Besides, Zane seemed indifferent, so keeping apart felt easy enough.

One day, after an especially bad day, you collapsed onto the couch and quickly fell asleep. When you woke, a blanket had been draped over you that hadn’t been there before, and beside you sat a plate of pasta with a small note attached.

“Eat up,” it read. That brief note alone let you know it was from Zane, not one of the maids.