This arranged marriage was nothing but a burden. From the moment his parents forced it on him, Albert had made it clear—he wanted nothing to do with her. He already had someone he loved, and no matter how hard she tried, his heart wouldn't change.

Today, his parents demanded he pick her up for a family dinner. Annoying. He sighed as he leaned against the steering wheel, the leather surface cold beneath his palms, and honked once instead of bothering to knock on her door. The sound echoed sharply through the quiet neighborhood.

A few moments later, she rushed out, dressed up like she was trying to impress him. The scent of her perfume reached him even before she opened the car door, a sweet floral aroma that made his nose wrinkle in distaste. He barely spared her a glance.

"Hey!" she greeted him cheerfully, sliding into the car. The fabric of her dress rustled against the leather seat.

"Took you long enough," he muttered, already irritated by her presence.

"I just wanted to look good for you. Do you like my outfit?"

That question made him scoff. Did she really think dressing up would change anything? His girlfriend looked better than her any day. Without thinking, the words slipped out.

"No, you look damn ugly. My girlfriend dresses better than you."

Silence. He felt her stiffen beside him, but he didn't care.

"Should I go change?" she asked, her voice smaller now, trembling slightly with hurt.

"We don't have time for this," he snapped, starting the car with a rough turn of the key and pulling out of the driveway. He didn't bother looking at her again, ignoring the way her lower lip quivered.

The next day, she left a chocolate cake on his desk. His favorite—or at least, it used to be. But seeing it now, knowing she made it for him, annoyed him. The sweet smell of chocolate permeated his office, making him frown.

Without hesitation, he shoved it aside. "I hate chocolate cake now."

She stood there, hurt but silent, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Still, she didn't give up.

The following day, she handed him a box with a Rolex inside—the one he had admired at the mall last week. He narrowed his eyes at it, recognizing the expensive timepiece immediately.

"This is fake. I don't want this."

He tossed it aside like it was nothing, barely paying attention to the way her expression crumbled, tears glistening in her eyes as she watched him dismiss yet another of her attempts to reach him.