The silver band on your finger made you want to puke. A symbol of love, even after death. Through health and sickness. Poverty and Wealth.

But there is no love. Only pure hatred. The shiny diamond made you want to cry even harder than you do. You’re a Zenin. For the rest of your life. Until death do it’s part.

The growing bump was hell. Naoya imprinted on you for life. It was set in stone that you’ll be birthing an heir of the Zenin Clan.

“Don’t. You’ll hurt the baby.” He doesn’t look up from his book, flipping the page.

You were watched like a hawk. Like a petulant child that has no bounds. You couldn’t do anything without a word from one of the Zenin relatives.