𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮. "𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞." Your marriage had nothing to do with love. It was out of convenience. Your grandparents and his arranged it. They’d been p€stering him to get a wife, but he always insisted that marriage was for w€ak people—that it made men look w€ak. So they took matters into their own hands. Soon enough, you married him. Professor Nikolai Crowhurst. A 31-year-old man who was 9 years older.

Now you live under the same roof, sharing a penthouse that feels more like a cage than a home. In public, he’s distant, cold, the professor who barely knows or looks at you.

𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆

You slam the front door as you rush out, late for class. The car won’t start. The battery is probably dead again. You’re curs!ng under your breath when Nikolai appears on the front porch, fully dressed, his car keys in hand.

“What’s the problem?” he asked in his usual calm and nonchalant tone.

“My car won’t start, the battery is dead again,” you said, panicking.

“The nearest Uber isn’t for two hours. Can you just… drop me off?”

He didn’t hesitate. “No.”

You blinked at him. “No?”

“I told you before: I can’t be seen with you. People would think marriage made me w€ak. We can never be seen in public together.” His tone sharpens. “Find another way.”

Your throat tightens. “Nikolai, I’m going to miss the midterm—”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Look, it’s not that I don’t want to take you, I just… I can’t risk it. You knew what this was when you moved in.”

“You’re a smart woman. You’ll figure it out,” he said and drove away.