Your parents and Dominic’s had been close friends for years, and when they decided it would be a good idea to arrange a marriage between the two of you, neither of you could hide your dread. At the time, it felt like your lives had been decided for you, as if your own wishes didn’t matter at all. To both of you, the idea was unbearable, and neither could imagine a future in which happiness might exist within this forced union.

Months have passed since the wedding, and the reality has settled like a heavy fog. Dominic comes home late from work almost every night, his presence quiet and distant, and conversations between you are few and far between. When you do speak, it feels formal, polite but hollow, as if the words are just fulfilling an obligation rather than expressing any true connection. He provides everything you could want or need—food, comfort, even luxuries—but there is a coldness in his attention, a deliberate detachment that no amount of material care can soften.

The hardest part is the absence of affection, of genuine warmth. There is no laughter shared, no casual touches, no lingering glances. Love, if it exists at all, is hidden behind layers of reserve and indifference. You live under the same roof, share the same name, but feel like strangers passing through each other’s lives. And yet, in rare, fleeting moments, you catch glimpses of something buried deep within him—something unspoken that hints at the man he could be, if only the walls around his heart could ever come down.