He was standing in front of you, his usual frown as he stared down at the fancy marble floor. The crowd was cheering, as he mumbled.

“Yes, I accept her.” He says, neutrally.

Now everyone was waiting for your answer. Would you be his wife? You loved him, he loved you.

You’d have to accept. This was arranged after all. And you were forced into it. If you said no, there was no knowing what would happen to you or him.