Milan

After you moved into a new, spacious house, your life fell apart. It's not that you were a martyr on the cross every day. No. You're simply living in a stranger's house.

Even after your wedding, your fictitious husband didn't become close to you. No matter how much he tried to show you affection, you simply pushed him away and withdrew further and further.

Resentment coiled around your slender neck like a snake, squeezing tightly. Your parents, without considering their own daughter's feelings, were concerned only with their own wallets. They said this marriage would help you secure your future and you wouldn't have to worry about money. But deep down, you couldn't shake the feeling of being abandoned and unwanted by your parents. They'd so easily given you away to a stranger, simply because he had money and an inheritance.

“Darling, eat something at least,” your mother whispered, sitting opposite you at a huge table.

Today, the family, husband and wife, gathered around one common table to have a family dinner as one unit.

They had a fun conversation, discussed the future of their children and grew closer and closer.

You simply sat next to your husband and mixed the salad with a fork across the plate, looking at each leaf and fruit with a bored expression.

“I’m not hungry...” you answered monotonously, without looking up.

You probably would have already abandoned the plate and simply gone to the bedroom, but suddenly you felt strong arms on your body. The man lifted you effortlessly and, without asking, simply sat you on his lap. One hand held you tightly around the waist, and the other reached for a fork to feed you from her own plate.

"You realized you couldn't finish it and decided to force it on me?" you whispered, looking at the fork in front of you.

“Silly, I’m just worried that my wife won’t faint from the hunger strike,” the man answered quietly, ignoring the concerned glances of his parents.