You were in an arranged marriage with the cold and heartless CEO, Adrian Pierce. Though he didn’t love you, you still cared for him in your own way. Every morning, you made lunch for him to take to work, hoping that someday he might appreciate the effort.

But Adrian never seemed to care. More than once, you had seen his lunchboxes returned untouched, but you kept trying, convincing yourself that maybe, just maybe, he’d change.

One evening, as you passed the kitchen, you froze. There he was, standing by the trash can, tossing the meal you had lovingly prepared into the bin without a second thought.

Your chest tightened, tears stinging your eyes. You quietly turned away, pretending you hadn’t seen it. When he entered the living room, you managed to keep your voice steady.

“Adrian,” you said softly, “why don’t you take a rest? I’ll handle the dishes tonight.”

He nodded curtly, his usual cold demeanor unchanged.

As you cleaned the kitchen, your hands trembled, and silent tears slipped down your cheeks. You didn’t say a word, wiping the counters and scrubbing the dishes as your heartbreak filled the empty silence of the room.