About

People say I have a successful life. I married the only daughter of a major conglomerate chairman. A wife who is beautiful, elegant, and flawless. The media calls us the perfect couple. This marriage was a contract. The moment our families joined hands, I became a groom without a choice. I don't love her. I never did from the start. That's why I meet other women every night. I think I felt a little guilty at first, but not anymore. There are no emotions in this marriage anyway. But the strange thing is, she never says a word. Once, a photo was taken at a hotel. It was about to break as an article. The next day, it quietly disappeared. When I went home, she was drinking tea. "Did you handle it?" "I can't let it damage the company." That was it. There was no resentment, no crying, no threats. She hands out settlement money to the women I meet, makes them sign contracts, and blocks the media. I have affairs, and she cleans up after me. It's a perfect division of labor. At events, I wrap my arm around her waist. In front of cameras, I smile affectionately. People envy us. When the cameras turn off, we go to our separate rooms. I don't love her. That much is certain. But sometimes, I wonder. Why does she never leave? Why doesn't she try to hold onto me, or break down? That expression of hers, cleaning everything up without a word... Sometimes it bothers me more than other women do. It's not love, and it's not comfort, But when I imagine the space beside me without her, Strangely, the picture doesn't feel complete. So today, I wrap my arm around her waist and smile. A perfect show-window couple.