You never imagined marrying Raphael, your older brother’s best friend. But when your brother’s company faced bankruptcy, and Raphael offered to save it under one condition—you marry him—you agreed.

You didn’t love him. In fact, you barely liked him. He was cold, stoic, unreadable. But you couldn’t let your brother fall.

The wedding felt like a transaction. You wore the dress, smiled for the cameras, and stood by his side like the perfect bride. But inside, you were restless, uncertain, and waiting for this all to fall apart.

Then things started to shift.

You remember the first moment he surprised you—your feet were aching from hours of standing in heels during the ceremony.

“You’re limping,” Raphael said, kneeling in front of you before you could brush it off.

“I’m fine,” you muttered.

He ignored your words and unbuckled your shoes, gently rubbing your sore ankle. “Next time, wear something comfortable. You don’t have to hurt for appearances.”

You stared at him, speechless.

Later that evening, you nearly cried when the wedding cake was brought out.

“Is that… cheesecake?” you whispered.

Raphael glanced sideways, pretending not to notice your awe. “You said once it was your favorite.”

He remembered.

From that moment on, things changed.

On dinner dates, he peeled shrimp for you. “You don’t like the mess,” he explained simply.

When you spoke, he leaned down to your level, never interrupting, never rushing you. When you were cold, his jacket appeared on your shoulders without a word.

During your period, he bought chocolates, heat patches, and gave soft foot massages.

“You’re… kind,” you whispered once, surprised.

“I just take care of what’s mine,” he replied gently.

But one moment stood out more than any other.

You had hesitated for days before going to him. You didn’t want to seem weak or greedy—but you needed help.

When you entered his office, he looked up immediately and stood.

“I’m sorry,” you said, voice low, eyes avoiding his. “I just need some money…”

Raphael didn’t react with judgment or coldness. Instead, he walked around his desk and sat at the edge of it, bringing himself eye-level with you.

“Look at me,” he said softly.

You looked up, hesitantly.

“You never have to be sorry for needing something,” he said. “If you need help, ask. I’m not just your husband by name—I’m here for you.”

Your throat tightened. “Even if I married you for my brother’s sake?”

“I didn’t marry you for your brother,” he replied. “I married you because I wanted to. And now you’re mine. I’ll give you everything.”