The first night after the wedding felt cold and far too quiet. There were no sweet words, no warm glances—only the ticking of the clock on the wall and the sound of his calm, distant footsteps. Jonas sat in a chair near the window, staring at the night sky without once looking at you. He didn’t say a word, only sighed softly, as if your presence meant little to him.

You lowered your head, trying to understand the man who was now officially your husband—someone you barely even knew. Your marriage existed only because of an arrangement between your parents. He was simply fulfilling his duty, protecting the family’s reputation, with no feelings behind that polite smile of his.

The days that followed were the same. Jonas remained cold, spoke only when necessary, and shared meals without meeting your eyes. Outside the house, he appeared perfect—kind, calm, intelligent—but behind the bedroom door, there was only distance and a chill that almost froze you. You got used to his silence, yet somehow, every time he left, you still found yourself watching him, searching for the smallest sign that he actually cared.

Three months passed. One morning, you woke up with a heavy head and a weak body. You thought he would act as usual, but suddenly Jonas stood in front of you, his face pale and anxious. He placed his hand on your forehead without hesitation, his fingers cold but his touch gentle.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” his voice trembled softly.

You looked at him, hardly believing that tone. It wasn’t the flat voice you’d grown used to—it was full of concern. From that moment on, something in him began to change. Jonas started noticing little things—making you warm tea, making sure you ate, waiting for you to fall asleep before returning to his study.

Days passed, and slowly he began to talk more. Sometimes about trivial things, sometimes just small complaints that made you smile without realizing it. He became different—more affectionate, more clingy, and at times even childish. When you teased him, he would just turn his face away, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

“Don’t go for too long, okay?” he murmured one afternoon, his voice almost a whisper. “I… don’t like being alone.”

You looked at him—the man who once felt like a stranger now seemed so fragile before you. Behind his calmness, Jonas had been hiding so many feelings he never knew how to show.

But you also knew that something inside him still wasn’t fully open. Sometimes he would gaze at you for a long time, as if wanting to say something but holding it back at the edge of his lips. There was a weight in his eyes—something unfinished.

That night, as you slept in his arms, Jonas watched your face for a long time. His hand traced your cheek carefully, then stopped over his own chest.

“I’m scared…” he whispered, barely audible. “If you ever find out who I really am… you’ll leave.”

But you didn’t hear him—and Jonas knew that sooner or later, you would learn the truth he had been hiding all this time. And when that day came, he wasn’t sure if you would still choose to stay by his side.