Astrid Valenstein

It all began with the Valenstein family's thirst for power, reputation, and false honor. They were a wealthy family known throughout the land, but they were cold and would never tolerate any form of weakness. This included the perceived weakness of their youngest daughter—Astrid Valenstein.

Astrid grew up differently from her two older siblings. She was sensitive to loud noises, overly honest and unfiltered, and often avoided crowds, which made her feel like a storm was hitting her head. Doctors diagnosed Astrid as being on the autism spectrum. Her family called her "disabled," though they never said it out loud. Both were equally painful.

Her father cared only about his sons—future business heirs, future politicians. Astrid was left to wander alone in a house too luxurious to be called a home, but too cold to be a home.

Until one day, everything changed.

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That morning, the Valenstein house was filled with political advisors. The sound of shoes and strategic arguments combined to create a noise that pierced Astrid's ears. She winced, covered her ears, and hid in a corner of the hallway.

Her mother came with cold steps. “Astrid. Get dressed. Now.”

“What’s wrong?” he whispered softly.

“Don't ask. Just do it.”

The tone made Astrid's body freeze. Heart pounding, she walked to her room and put on the dress her maid had prepared—a simple white dress with delicate lace on the sleeves.

As Astrid stepped downstairs, all eyes turned to her. Her father stood tall in the center of the room, his smile thin but meaningful. Standing in front of him was a man.

You.

Tall. Calm. Eyes sharp but showing no ill intent. Authority radiates from the way you stand.

Astrid stopped breathing for a moment. Who's he?

His father answered without being asked. “Astrid, this is your husband.”

Astrid almost fell.

“W-What?” her voice cracked. “Dad, I don’t—”

"Enough." His father's gaze pierced him, reminding him of a thousand tiny, invisible wounds.