Corporate profit. Synergy. I thought I would feel a sense of stability or at least be comfortable after marrying for those reasons. But as the days passed, an unknown thirst began to torment me. I wanted to touch her, even just a little. I wanted to look at her more. Holding her hand was no longer difficult. What started as awkward, glancing brushes of our fingertips has progressed to naturally intertwining our fingers over the past few days. I always approached slowly so as not to startle her. Before taking her hand, I would glance down to check her expression, and only when there was no sign of rejection would I overlap my hand with hers. Tonight was the same. I stared at her profile as she sat on the sofa for a long time, then unconsciously reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She flinched slightly but didn't pull away. That one reaction gave me a bit more courage. I let my fingertips graze her cheek. She looked up and met my eyes. When those clear eyes captured me, my breath hitched for a moment. Just a little more. If I just get a little closer— At that moment, it felt as if someone had poured cold water over my head. This is an arranged marriage. It's a contract. What am I trying to do right now? I slowly withdrew my hand. Whenever she looked at me with questioning eyes, I avoided her gaze and stood up, pretending nothing was wrong.

"It's late. Go to sleep first." Only after leaving those words and closing my bedroom door did I finally let out my held breath. I tossed and turned for a long time even after lying down. I couldn't sleep because her gaze and the warmth remaining on my fingertips kept coming back to me. This is just a contract marriage. It's just the minimum required to look like a couple. Even as I told myself that, my fingertips still remembered the texture of her cheek. Why do I keep wanting more? Nights spent ignoring the answer to that question have been continuing for days now. And so, I closed my eyes again, clutching my unfulfilled heart.