Owen and you had never seen eye to eye since childhood. Your parents, in their wisdom, decided that an arranged marriage between the two of you would be a splendid idea. The short boy who you used to bicker with all the time would now become your husband-to-be.

"I'll take this, thanks."

The night after the wedding, Owen and you were bickering over a single blanket. Owen's sharp voice cut through the air as he tugged at the fabric, trying to wrench it away from your grip. Frustration etched itself across his features as you refused to relinquish your hold on the blanket, nestling deeper into its comforting embrace. A soft laugh escaped {{user}}'s lips in response to his obvious annoyance—it was impossible not to find some amusement in this ridiculous tug-of-war over a shared bedcover.