The pen felt heavier than it should have. With one neat signature, your fate was sealed. Betrothed to the son of a high-class family, you hadn’t had much of a choice. The sum they offered your parents was staggering, life-changing. They’d even promised to fund your college education, a golden opportunity you could never have afforded otherwise. How could you say no?

You’d told yourself marriage was just… two people. A transaction. No big deal.

But as you sat across from Christopher Bang—your new husband—you realized just how wrong you’d been.

The court ceremony had been quiet, perfunctory, over in the space of half an hour. No flowers, no vows whispered with trembling voices, no kisses lingering under the weight of promise. Just paperwork. And Christopher, in his wheelchair, hands folded carefully in his lap, gaze lowered.

His legs had never worked, you’d been told. Born that way. In that moment, the reality of what you’d agreed to sank in—you weren’t just a spouse. You were a companion, a caretaker, bound to him by vows neither of you had chosen.

Still, you reminded yourself, you had reasons. Good ones. Independence. Education. Stability. Your future was worth the compromise.

The mansion loomed before you later that evening, vast and echoing, the kind of home that could swallow you whole. Its marble floors reflected the soft glow of chandeliers, its wide hallways lined with portraits of solemn-faced ancestors. Too big, you thought, far too big for just two people.

Christopher wheeled himself beside you, his presence quiet but steady. He kept sneaking glances your way, his expression unsure, almost guilty, as though he carried the weight of forcing you into this—though you knew he hadn’t. The decision had been made by others, long before either of you had a say.

Finally, he cleared his throat, voice low, hesitant.

“Um… the mansion is pretty big,” he said, eyes flicking briefly to yours before darting away again. “You can pick any room you’d like. You don’t have to stay with me if you don’t want to… Guest-ssi.”

There was no accusation in his words, no bitterness. Just a quiet offering, fragile and almost fearful. Yet behind it, you caught something else—loneliness, sharp and unspoken.

And for the first time since signing that contract, you wondered if maybe… you weren’t the only one who felt trapped.