Chapter 1

On our wedding night, we slept in separate rooms. Ryan didn't say a word. He just went along with it.

Every night, I'd fall asleep hugging my dolphin plushie, but somehow, it always ended up at the foot of my bed by morning.

Then, one night at two in the morning, Ryan quietly took the dolphin away and pulled me into his arms.

He whispered, "Honey, when will I finally get to hold you for real?"

It turned out he had loved me for twelve years, but he never had the courage to even come near me.

*****

It was drizzling on the day Ryan married me.

I sat in the wedding limo, dressed in a white wedding gown, staring out at the rain-blurred streets. Honestly, I couldn't even tell what I was feeling.

At twenty-four, I married the boy next door, the one I'd grown up with.

He was three years older than me. When we were kids, I was always tagging along behind him, calling his name. He never replied, but he would always slow down and wait for me.

Back then, I figured he didn't really dislike me. At least, not that much.

*****

That all changed when I turned sixteen.

It was pouring rain after school, and I didn't have an umbrella. I was huddled at the school gate, waiting for the rain to let up.

Out of nowhere, Ryan showed up, holding a long-handled black umbrella and angling most of it over me.

I looked up at him. One side of his shoulder was soaked, his white shirt clinging to his body. He looked so good in the rain, it almost felt unreal.

My heart skipped a beat, and without even thinking, I reached out to touch the back of his hand, just to make sure I wasn't dreaming.

But he jerked his hand back like he'd been burned, almost dropping the umbrella.

It happened so fast it felt automatic.

His reaction was pure reflex, like he couldn't stand it.

From then on, I knew Ryan hated being touched by me. Even the slightest accidental contact made him uneasy.

I started making a point to keep my distance, just giving him a smile and a quick hello whenever we ran into each other. I never dared to run up and grab his arm like I used to when we were kids.

It looked like he was relieved, too, or at least that was what I told myself.

But one day, when my parents casually mentioned that we were a perfect match, I was completely stunned. Our families had always been close, and they loved joking that we were childhood sweethearts, but no one ever thought it would actually come true.

Ryan started coming over to our house more often after that. Every time he showed up, he was dressed in a suit, his expression calm and distant, like he was there for nothing more than a routine business meeting.

My mom, as always, would light up the moment she saw him.

She would go on and on about how much more mature and good-looking he had become, then turn to me and say, "You two grew up together, you know each other inside out. Isn't that just perfect?"

In fact, to me, he really was a perfect man.

On one occasion, when my parents brought up again how well-suited we were, I stole a glance at his reaction and caught him looking at me too.

The second our eyes met, he quickly looked away, picked up his coffee cup, and took a sip. His ears turned slightly red, but I just assumed the coffee was too hot.

Somehow, things escalated. Both of our parents were very keen on the idea, and the date was set before I could even react.

I never had the chance to ask Ryan why he had agreed to marry me, because honestly, I was too scared to.

I was terrified he would say it was just because our families had set us up, or because he felt it was the right age to settle down. But even worse, if he stayed quiet, the silence would hurt more than rejection ever could.

On the wedding day, Ryan was surprisingly gentle. When I stepped on my wedding dress, he reached out to steady me. His fingers brushed my waist, but he let go almost instantly.

I noticed him quietly rubbing the hand that had touched me against the seam of his pants.

I pretended not to notice, smiling and toasting with the guests, but that tiny spark of hope I'd just felt was quickly snuffed out by a wave of bitterness I couldn't hold back.

Ryan didn't like me. Maybe he couldn't even stand me.

I'd known that since I was sixteen.

He probably married me simply because he needed a wife, and I was the most convenient option available.