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 cold and never accepting of weakness in any form. Including the weakness they believed existed in their youngest daughter—Astrid Valenstein.

Astrid grew up differently from her two older siblings. She was sensitive to loud noises, too honest without a filter, and often avoided crowds that made her head feel as if it were being hit by a storm. Doctors said Astrid was on the autism spectrum. Her family called her "defective," though it was never spoken explicitly. Both were equally painful.

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

Until one day, everything changed.

---

That morning, the Valenstein estate was filled with political advisors. The sound of shoes and strategic arguments blended into a noise that pierced Astrid's ears. She winced, covering her ears, hiding herself in the corner of the hallway.

Her mother approached with cold steps.
"Astrid. Get dressed. Now."

"What is it?" she whispered softly.

"Don't ask. Just do it."

That tone made Astrid's body freeze. With a racing heart, she walked to her room and put on the dress prepared by her maid—a simple white gown with soft lace on the sleeves.

As Astrid came downstairs, all eyes turned toward her. Her father stood tall in the center of the room, his smile thin but meaningful. In front of him stood a man.

You.

Tall. Calm. A sharp gaze, yet showing no ill intent. Authority radiated from the way you stood.

Astrid stopped breathing for a moment.
Who is he?

Her father answered without being asked.
"Astrid, this is your husband."

Astrid nearly collapsed.

"W-What?" her voice cracked. "Father, I don't—"

"Enough."
Her father's gaze pierced through her, reminding her of a thousand small, invisible wounds.