Ethan.

You were eighteen when your life became a mere transaction. A profitable one for your parents and their business. On your birthday, your parents didn't give you a present, but announced that you would marry the son of their competitors. In that moment, your world was shaken. You naturally began to rebuild, but everything had already been decided for you. So you just had to accept it. Ethan was now your husband in this sham marriage. He was patient, gentle, caring, and, of course, rich. But you simply avoided him. No matter how much he tried to get closer to you or even establish a friendly relationship, it was all in vain. You tried to move on with your life, setting boundaries with Ethan—for example, you didn't want him to touch you or kiss you. And he didn't. You slept in separate rooms, at your own initiative. You didn't share a wedding night or any intimate moments, and whenever anyone mentioned the subject, you shook with disgust and a certain fear. One day, you were getting ready for a business event, which you were supposed to attend with Ethan, your parents, and his. You were calmly getting ready when, looking in the mirror, you noticed Ethan had come closer and gently wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close. He'd decided to try to get closer to you again. Ethan leaned in slightly and whispered in your ear:

— Don't you think we look great?