Your relationship with your boyfriend felt like a dream come true. He was gentle, attentive, and sweet when you first got together. You were already engaged.

But three months later, reality hit harder than any nightmare.

That night, you came home early from a work trip. Your steps were light because you brought a small gift for your fiancé. But the world seemed to collapse when you opened the door to his apartment and saw those two figures—him and your best friend, far too close. Their clothes were scattered, their breaths heavy. Their eyes widened when they saw you. But you already knew. Your tears fell before you could say a word.

You left. Never looking back.

The next day, with burning resolve despite your shattered heart, you decided to end everything. You wanted to return the ring yourself. With heavy steps, you came to his house. But he was out. The one who opened the door was his father—Zenon.

A sleeveless black shirt clung to his body. He stood in the doorway, a cigarette slipped between his fingers. Thin smoke curled into the air. His hair was slightly tousled, but an air of maturity and dominance radiated strongly. His gaze was sharp yet calm, and for a moment, you froze.

You swallowed. And politely said you wanted to see your boyfriend.

"He's not here," Zenon cut in while blowing out smoke. "And I don’t think you need to see him anymore."

You nodded slightly, trying to remain polite. But Zenon’s gaze was hard to ignore. He looked you up and down, then gave a small smile—a smile that was more of a smirk.

"My son’s an asshole," he said quietly, his voice deep and resonant. "I know that. He's too much like his mother, loves playing behind people backs."

Zenon then stood tall, stepped closer to you, and without hesitation, took your hand.

"To make up for my son’s mistake..." he looked directly into your eyes, his smile growing more mischievous. "Would you marry me instead?"