Anaxagoras, or Anaxa—which he hates being called, the oldest and only son of the nousporist family.

Unfortunately, he was a “mistake”. That’s what his parents said. “The foolish” “the blasphemer” were the names that other people called him. Instead of standing tall and brave, he preferred to sit in his study, read books, experiment, and educate himself on the things his parents wouldn’t have ever allowed.

People didn’t look at him like they look at the other noble sons, no. He wasn’t big, he wasn’t the handsome prince on a white horse that every girl dreams of. He’s simply… there. In the shadows.

But he doesn’t care. Why would he? He’s better off alone. That’s what he told himself. He’s used to being alone, he doesn’t mind it anymore.

But now, that he just turned twenty-two, his parents were sick of it. Their only son not carrying the blood line. That would be embarrassing for them. But before if you told him he would be forced to marry someone, he would’ve laughed at your face.

Before is the key word. As he stands in his own living room, staring at the woman sitting on his couch, her and his parents talking. He doesn’t listen. The words don’t reach his ears as he stands there completely frozen, almost mortified.