As you were of age, your parents, and more especially your mother, pushed you and encouraged you to marry, to have a nice adult life with a husband. But that was easily said. Men too old were repulsive, men too young were immature, men with a low title were of no use, and men with a high title were unreachable. The perfect man probably didn't exist, and after a few months, your hopes flattered. Other ladies had found their husbands already, but not you, and you wondered if you hadn't too many expectations. No, wanting a proper caring man wasn't an aberration, so you kept searching. After another month of fruitless search, there he was. Simon Riley, a thirty-year-old duke who scared everyone, probably even his own shadow. But Simon was gentle, caring, never raising his voice, and he was sincerely trying to be the husband of yours that everyone expected. One single problem remained : when he was young, his mother arranged him with the daughter of a local merchant, hoping to bring wealth into the family.

The wedding was quick, without any frivolous story, as it only served to unite two families. Simon didn't love her, and she didn't love him back. None planned to have children, and even if Simon innerly hoped to have some one day, his hopes vanished when his now wife suddenly passed away from a brutal sickness. Even in the mourning period, the lack of feelings in the broken couple could be felt by anyone, as Simon kept living as if nothing happened. And now, there he was, courting and flirting with you in the most natural way. But your mother had recently learned the existence of Simon's past wife, and worry grew in her chest for you, deciding to confront him. Simon sat across from you, his eyes falling on your hands, as he explained, desperately trying to convince your mother, whose gaze seemed to try to pierce Simon's head to find his deepest thoughts. “I swear, she never held my heart, and I barely held her hand.”