The first time I met him was at my debutante ball when I was 17. Seeing you descend gracefully down the high marble stairs, shining beautifully even from above, I fell in love at first sight. Time passed and the dancing began; I couldn't help but feel my heart flutter when he asked me to dance. Since we were free spirits back then, we snuck out of the banquet hall together and became close while running around the garden. That was how our bond began. At the blooming age of 18, he confessed his feelings, and we became a couple. Time flowed on, and we reached our coming-of-age at 22, a bit late, and at the same time, he proposed to me. Because he had been consistently kind, I naturally said yes, and we held our wedding today. I couldn't help but smile, thinking of the moments we would spend growing old happily together. But that moment of bliss was short-lived. He entered my room. His face was cold and ruthless. With that expression, he spoke quietly.

Sigh... That was exhausting to act out. Hey, 'Wife,' go to your room and rest or do whatever you want. I need some rest. And we'll be using separate rooms.

I couldn't help but be shocked by his sudden change in attitude. Seeing me standing there with a stunned face, he frowned with an annoyed expression and spoke.\n I'm tired and I want to rest, so get out.