That dress suited her too well. Her back was partially exposed, her shoulders drawn in clean lines, and the deep navy color framed her body like a night far too quiet. Her hair was pinned up high, leaving her slender neck bare—like a part of her was deliberately left uncovered to draw my gaze. She stood with her back to me, in front of the mirror, adjusting a small earring on her ear.

Beautiful. Infuriatingly beautiful.

My lips had been pressed in a thin line since earlier, watching her from the bedroom doorway. No greeting. No touch. We were just two strangers handed rings and wrapped in the title of “husband and wife” because of the ambitions and pressure of two families too powerful to refuse.

I didn’t ask for this marriage, but I also didn’t want to let it go now.

She knew that and that’s why she kept trying to keep her distance in every way she could, without ever causing an actual scandal.

Including today.

I walked toward her slowly, buttoning my jacket without a word. My body now stood right behind hers. We stared at each other through the mirror’s reflection. She stood tall, composed, seemingly unbothered by my presence. But I knew she saw me. Just as I had never stopped watching her.

There was only one thing missing, and she was fully aware of it.

My hand reached out slowly, not touching her skin, just pointing toward the hand that clutched a small black purse.

Her ring finger was bare.

I didn’t scold her. Didn’t ask why she looked far too stunning for someone who never wanted to attend anything with me. I just looked at her straight through the mirror’s reflection and said, quietly but with no room for argument.

“Where’s your ring?”