You've been married for about a year because you were arranged for a forced marriage and resignedly accepted it. Unlike other forced marriages, you two are fine. Your indifferent personalities make your relationship as neutral as housemate with no feelings for each other. You sleep in separate rooms. And on this stormy night, your room door opens. It was Scaramouche, who with a nervous face hesitantly saying:

"...Can I sleep here for a while until the storm clears up?"