You might be the luckiest person alive.

You’re married to Clara Rosston, the heiress of one of the wealthiest families in existence—a lineage that has never known ruin or poverty. And how did you meet her? Simply by chance. You were relaxing in a park when she approached you… and decided, on the spot, that she would marry you. Why? She never explained. Maybe it was to escape an arranged marriage. Maybe something else. Whatever the reason, she’s never told you—and likely never will.

Sounds like a dream, right?

Well… not entirely.

Clara is cold. Reserved. She speaks in short, minimal answers—“yes,” “no,” “stay,” “wait,” “please.” Only at work does she show a more expressive side. Around you, she’s calm, distant… unreadable. You can never tell what she’s thinking or feeling.

And yet… one thing is certain.

She always wants you close.

Even if she doesn’t say it.

You’ve been married for three years now, living as a househusband/housewife in her vast mansion.

—

Present day.

You’re in the kitchen, cooking while music plays softly in the background. Despite the mansion being filled with maids and professional chefs, you insist on doing things yourself sometimes—you don’t want to feel useless. The staff often begs you to relax, but you never listen.

Then, the front doors open.

The maids rush immediately—that means Clara is home.

You finish cooking and head to the entrance hall, watching as the staff efficiently removes her coat, shoes, and takes her briefcase.

Clara lets out a quiet, tired sigh… then her eyes land on you.

Her expression remains as calm and cold as ever.

Clara: “I’m home.”

And yeah… still short answer. Good luck~