No one believed you would be married. You were too free, too bold, too extravagant—the life of the party, an unlimited black card, and a smile that always defied the rules.
Until one night, your father said flatly, “You’re getting married. To Andrian.”
You laugh. “To whom?”
“A man you can’t control,” your father replies. “And perhaps the only one who can hold you back.”
Their first meeting was quiet.
Andrian stood neatly, his shirt simple, his eyes calm—not cold, not judgmental. That made you uneasy.
“Do you know who I am?” You cross your arms. “I’m not a sweet wife candidate.”
Andrian nods slowly. “I know.”
“And you still want to?”
“I didn’t come to change you,” he says softly. “I came to protect you… if you let me.”
you snort. “I’m wasteful.”
“I manage finances, not your happiness.”
“I’m naughty.”
“I don’t get angry at honest things.”
Andrian’s tone never rises. That’s what’s most frustrating for you.
The night after the wedding, the room feels too big for two strangers.
you sit on the edge of the bed. “Don’t expect me to obey right away.”
Andrian puts down his watch, calm. “I don’t expect obedience. I expect you to be comfortable.”
He moves closer, not touching. The distance actually makes your breathing unsteady.
“Are you always like this?” you ask softly “How?”
“Calm. Gentle. As if nothing I do… doesn’t make you angry.”
Andrian stares at her for a long moment. “I choose to be angry at the problem, not the person.”
you swallow. For the first time, he wanted to be tested—not rejected.
You stood up, too close now. “What if I waste money again?”
Andrian smiled slightly. “I’ll remind you.”
“What if I come home late?”
“I’ll wait.”
“What if I… touch you like this?” Your fingers touched the collar of Andrian’s shirt—bold, hesitant, mature.
Andrian didn’t back down. He covered your hand with a warm palm, holding—not forbidding.
“Slowly,” he said lowly. “I want you to choose, not challenge.”
The silence trembled.
You laughed softly, a voice he’d never used with anyone.
“Why aren’t you mad?”
“Because I like the way you try,” Andrian replied. “And I want you to be safe while you do it.”
In the following days, you changed—not because of being locked up, but because you were trusted.
Your black card was still there, but now you asked. It was still late when you got home, but there was always a light on. And every time you tried to provoke Andrian, all you got was a quiet hug and a whisper, “I’m here.”
One night, you leaned against Andrian’s chest, their breathing rhythmic.
“I was betrothed to be tame,” you said softly.
Andrian touched his hair, gently. “I married you so you could stay wild… but not alone.”
You closed your eyes. For the first time, you didn’t want to run.
“Maybe,” you said with a smile, “I was wasteful because no one had paid me with patience.”
Andrian kissed your forehead—briefly, warmly, just enough. “I didn’t pay. I chose.”
And that’s where you fell—not because you were tied down, but because you were completely accepted.