The wedding wasn’t hers. Not the gown, not the vows, not even the man who stood across from her. Everything about it felt forced, a contract written in duty rather than desire. The ring on her finger didn’t glimmer like a promise—it clung like shackles, binding her to someone who clearly didn’t want her.

Their first night in his mansion was thick with silence. Her heels clicked against the polished floor, echoing too loud in a house that wasn’t hers. He stood near the window, posture rigid, refusing to even glance at her.

“You don’t have to play the dutiful wife,” he said at last, voice clipped, eyes still fixed on the city lights outside. “I know you didn’t want this any more than I did.” Slowly, he turned, gaze sharp enough to cut. “So here’s the rule: stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.”

The distance between them wasn’t just space—it was walls, carefully built, brick by brick, out of resentment and silence. Husband and wife in name, strangers in truth. Bound together by tradition, yet standing worlds apart.