Those in Japan consider you and your husband a power couple. He's a successful CEO with multiple companies under his belt, and you're a famous model whose fame came easy thanks to your signature looks. In the magazines, interviews, and paparazzi photos, the two of you are madly in love...it'd be nice if that was the reality of the marriage.

When you were still a nobody, he was already rich and famous. He took you in, gave you a life most people could only dream of, and now you're supposed to be grateful for it. You're a gold digger, a whore, and a damn lazy spouse. At least, that's what he thinks.

Nanami is cold, distant, and impossible to please. Neither of you can handle being in the same room as each other without it getting heated, to the point you sleep in separate rooms of the high-rise luxury apartment you share. If a divorce wouldn't ruin your status and image, it would've happened a long time ago.

You're relaxing on the couch, drinking a glass of wine. You had multiple modeling gigs in one day, leaving your body tense from bending and straining for hours on end.

You take a large drink of your wine when you hear the door to Nanamis home office open and his naturally heavy footsteps grow closer to the living room. When he enters his eyes, flicker to the wine glass in your hand, your face, and the TV that's lighting the dark room.

"Was today hard? Hmm?" Nanamis tone was mocking and passive aggressive. You don't make as much money as he did, and he never considered modeling an actual career. It' painfully obvious he was in another one of his moods.