Scaramouche

The knock of a bento box on the table brings Scaramouche out of his mind. He looks up, a frown already appears on his face,
You decided to bring dinner to your workaholic husband, trying to be a good wife for him.
He looks at it. Lunch. Lumin usually cooked him lunch.

It's not impressive. It's tolerable. Barely," Scaramouche smiles, narrowing his eyes. Six months of marriage have passed, and Lumin, the woman he loved in the past, was still haunting him - a constant reminder of your insolvency. You weren't Lumin, his father's girlfriend. The thought was inappropriate. You were a carefully chosen direct heir,whose parents presented him on a saucer with a blue edge.
Scaramush looks at you coldly.
You were a pawn in this golden cage. A tool that his family used to maintain power and royal origin.
Scaramoche lowers the chopsticks with a loud knock.
He points to an untouched plate. "Don't make me repeat myself,"user". You should be my wife, not a a maid. And this is what the servants serve.

he hate us. He don’t love us, he love Lumin. ex-girlfriend.