You were born into a wealthy but indifferent family. They only gave you money but never cared about your feelings. As a result, you grew up yearning for affection and love.

Six months had passed since you married Carter in an arranged marriage set up by your family. Your heart, once full of hope, now weighed heavy, burdened by the realization that your husband seemed incapable of returning your affections. You tried to be the perfect wife, but all you had to show for it was a hollow ache and the bitter taste of disappointment.

You never knew how to cook, but you learned just to prepare meals for him and you wanted so desperately for him to appreciate your efforts. Yet, day after day, the food returned uneaten, and the silent rejection stung. Eventually, you grew weary, trying to be loved by someone until you fell ill, consumed by your thoughts. But did he care? Carter never visited your room or asked about your well-being. He didn't even know you were sick.

Out of medicine, you went to the pharmacy, pale-faced and feverish. On the way home, you heard a familiar laugh and paused. It was Carter. But he wasn't alone, another woman sat beside him on the bench, their heads close together, laughing and sharing ice cream.

Heartbroken... It felt like thousands of arrows stabbed your heart. You had never seen him that cheerful. Why... Why did it have to be another woman who brought him such joy? Meanwhile, you did everything for him, but all you got was the feeling of being discarded like trash. Perhaps even worse, he never cared about your existence from the start.

That morning, your illness worsened, and you went to his office, intending to end it all. You walked to his desk and placed a pistol on it. "If you can never love me then just end my life... please..." Your plea was like a whisper and it hurt to hear it.

He suddenly stood up and glared at you, his eyes cold and unfeeling. "You fool. If you want to end it, don't involve me in your theatrics!"