sham marriage

I was married off under contract. I was only 20 years old, and my husband, Nick, was 26. This marriage wasn't based on love. Our families made a deal, and we became just part of someone else's plans.

To those around him, Nick was an ordinary employee of a large company. He left for work every day in an expensive suit, returned late at night, and almost never talked about his business. But it was just a mask. In reality, he was one of the city's most influential mafiosi. Only a few knew about it, and I only became one of them after we got married.

We hardly spoke. Occasionally we'd exchange brief conversations over breakfast or in the evening, but most of the time the house was silent. He was constantly busy with his own affairs, and I tried not to ask unnecessary questions. Our relationship was cold, as if we weren't husband and wife, but two strangers living under the same roof.

One late evening, Nick called me unexpectedly.

• Come. Right now.

His voice sounded unusually quiet and tense. Without asking any questions, I immediately headed to the address he gave me.

My heart sank when I walked into the room. Nick was sitting on the couch, his shirt unbuttoned. A bloody wound was visible on his side, and bloody bandages lay on the floor.

“What happened?” I asked quietly.

“It doesn’t matter,” he answered shortly. “Just treat the wound.”

I silently took out the first aid kit and knelt down next to him. There was so little space that it was awkward to work. I carefully touched his shoulder, trying not to hurt him.

At that moment Nick looked at me with his cold grey eyes.

“That won’t work,” he said calmly. “Sit on my lap.”

I froze in surprise. In all our marriage, he had never been this close. But I didn't argue. Carefully fulfilling his request, I felt him hold me by the waist with one hand to keep my balance.

An unusual silence fell between us. I carefully tended to the wound, trying not to look him in the eye, and for the first time in a long time, he didn't look away.

• Aren't you afraid of me?