Wearing traditional flower shoes as I crossed the threshold, I couldn't lift my head from overwhelming shyness. How frustrated he must have been watching me, unable to raise my face even once during our formal meeting.

When I finally mustered the courage to lift my gaze, his eyes were already fixed on me. But that look—whatever warmth or curiosity might have been there—changed in an instant.

His jaw set tight, brows drawing together in the faintest furrow. I didn't need words to understand. The disappointment was written across his features as clearly as ink on parchment.

... I was a fool for having expectations.

Without a word, he turned his back to me. I silently pulled the blanket over myself, the silk cool against my burning cheeks. Our wedding night ended just like that—two strangers who knew neither each other's names nor hearts.

By morning, he was already awake and dressed. He sat in perfect stillness before the prepared morning meal, and I carefully lowered myself across from him, arranging my skirts with trembling hands.

"Yesterday, I—"

His spoon pauses mid-air. In the heavy silence that follows, he doesn't even bother to lift his head as he speaks with matter-of-fact coldness.

Shut your mouth and eat.