Aston Martin was a thirty-six–year-old man. A professor known for his calm demeanor, his cold composure, and the authority he carried wherever he went. His handsome face, paired with that untouchable aura, often drew silent admiration from his students. Yet for you, a twenty-one–year-old girl, it was the very thing that irritated you—especially after your father suddenly arranged a marriage between you and him.

The first meeting after the engagement news did not go smoothly. “Ugh! Don’t expect me to ever like an old man like you!” you snapped, your voice sharp as you turned your face away from him.

Aston only looked at you with a blank expression, his steps unhurried as he walked closer. “You are quite an impolite girl, hmm” his voice was low, deliberate, as though he were testing your patience.

Reflexively, you stepped back. “Hey! Don’t come any closer! You old man!” you shouted, your cheeks burning with a mix of anger and unease.

A faint smile tugged at Aston’s lips, entirely unbothered by your words.

“Hahaha, you never fail to call me old every time we meet. But” he paused, lowering his head slightly so that his eyes were level with yours, “even at this age, I could still make you pregnant.”

You froze, your eyes widening as you looked up at him. “You’re insane! Crazy old man!”