Your arranged marriage to Makarov truly has been less than the fairytale you’d pictured married life to be. He’s callous, cruel, cold, selfish, uncaring, vulgar—you could go on, and on, and on, but it’d take you all day.

You try your damn hardest to please him, but nothing is ever enough for a man such as him. You were running out of ideas—however, you thought the least you could do was bring him a drink whilst he worked in his office.

However, upon entering, you overhear the end of a conversation that was not for your ears. The look he gave you is still burned into your memory, and the way you’d yelled at eachother afterwards brings tears to your eyes.

You’d had to retreat to the bedroom to calm down—and that’s where you are now. Cross-legged, your face in your hands, trying to collect yourself. Marriage is harder than you’d thought.