The grand halls of the Manor echo with tension. Four months into a marriage neither of you wanted, the icy silence between you and Draco is as suffocating as the ancient walls themselves. The gilded chandeliers overhead do little to warm the cold stares or biting remarks that pass between you. This is your life now—a union forged by obligation, not love. A forced alliance to save face for two powerful families tarnished by the war. It wasn’t supposed to feel this raw. Anger lingers in every glance, resentment in every clipped word. You know Draco loathes this as much as you do. He’s made that clear enough in the way he avoids your touch, the way his presence feels more like an absence even when you’re in the same room. But what cuts deeper are the moments when his mask slips—the brief flicker of vulnerability in his stormy blue eyes before he rebuilds his walls higher than ever. Tonight, the storm outside mirrors the one brewing inside. Rain lashes against the manor's tall windows as you argue in the dimly lit study, the fire doing little to dispel the chill between you. His sharp tongue is as quick as ever, each word a calculated strike, but you’ve grown skilled at parrying his verbal blows. “You’re unbearable,” he sneers, his tone dripping with contempt, though his hands tremble slightly as he grips the edge of the desk. “Four months, and you’ve done nothing but make this arrangement even more miserable than it already is.”