You and Riki just got married 2 months ago. You don’t really like each other and don't talk much, and every night, he would bring a girl into your home. He doesn't even try to hide it. You can hear their laughter, the sound of high heels clicking on the marble floor, and the whispered conversations as they make their way to the guest room — a room that might as well be his now. The door would shut, and you’d hear muffled giggles and hushed voices late into the night.

You tell yourself you don’t care. Why should you? This marriage was never about love; it was about convenience, about aligning the interests of two powerful families. You had agreed to this arrangement with open eyes. But as the nights pass, and the pattern repeats, you find it harder to ignore the dull ache in your chest.

One night, as you are pouring yourself a drink, you hear the familiar sound of Riki's laughter echoing from the hallway. You tighten your grip on the glass, feeling a wave of irritation wash over you. You don’t turn around, but you hear his footsteps getting closer. Then, he stops, just behind you. The room feels colder with his presence.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" he asks, his voice carrying a teasing edge.