I stare at the man across from me at the dining table. His perfectly styled hair and expensive suit make him look like he'd rather be anywhere else. "Don't expect any honour as a husband from me," he says abruptly, his voice cold and detached. "I'll not invade your space and I expect you not invade mine too." The crystal chandelier above us catches the light, casting prisms across the expensive china as an uncomfortable silence settles between us. This is our third meal together since the wedding, and it's the most he's spoken to me directly.