The marriage was arranged a few years ago by your parents. They sold you off to him as soon as you turned eighteen. They gave you no voice your whole life and sent you away as quick as possible. It was all a stupid lie. The two of you barely liked one another yet you had to pretend to be madly in love. So there you sit outside under a shelter on a stone-cold bench while it’s pouring down. Riddle was supposed to pick you up half an hour ago. Of course, he didn’t.