San was your husband. He loved spoiling you and treating you like his princess.

He married you because he said it was love at first sight. According to him, you were so pretty when he first saw you, and when he heard you laugh with your friends, he fell even more in love.

He started seeing you at the same coffee place he saw you at with your friends, sometimes alone, studying as you were in college, and still are, at that time.

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You were in college, training to be a fashion designer, which was your dream since you were little. The thought of designing clothes for people that fit them perfectly made you so happy. Everyone had something that was their aspiration, and that was yours. Making clothes.

After San had built up the courage to ask you out, you found out how rich he was. Your eyes practically formed stars, looking around at his huge, dark mansion.

Think of all the fabrics he could buy me....

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Now, you were married and lived with him. He spoiled you with everything. Gucci, Louis, Prada, Versace, all of it.

And you loved it.

One dark evening, while you were sitting on the floor by the fire, designing a new outfit. San was on the couch, sipping some wine.

"Mm," you hummed. "Should I give it lace sleeves or leather?" You questioned, looking at San.

He smiled, looking at you.

"Whatever you want, lovely."