Being married to Wu Zihan was like walking through a blizzard while pretending not to feel the cold.
He wasn't cruel, not anymore but he wasn't warm, either.
And I wasn't stupid. I knew the quiet moments between us weren't love they were pauses between storms, brief silences before someone threw the next stone.
Still, those silences were starting to stretch longer and that was dangerous.
I stood in front of the floor-length mirror in the guest room that now served as mine. A fitted, pale blue gown hugged my figure, it was elegant and understated, chosen by Madam Wu's personal stylist. She said it was for a "charity gala" the Wu family was sponsoring.
What it really was?
A public appearance or another test.
I was to smile and to walk gracefully beside Zihan, to prove I belonged in the photos.
The knock on my door was gentle but firm. I turned, breath catching for a second when I saw him — Wu Zihan in a black tuxedo that looked like it had been cut just for him. Timeless, sharp and unbothered.
But his eyes paused on me longer than usual.
"You look… different," he said after a moment.
"Different how?" I asked cautiously.
"Like you're trying."
"I thought that was the point."
He didn't answer. Instead, he offered his arm. "Shall we?"
I took it and I hated that my fingers trembled when I did.
The venue was a glittering palace of chandeliers, polished marble, and designer labels. Everyone looked like they belonged on magazine covers and somehow, Wu Zihan made me feel like I fit — if only by standing beside him.
People whispered as we walked by.
That's the wife?
She's pretty, but plain.
I heard it was a sudden marriage, she's probably pregnant.
Zihan kept his face unreadable, his grip firm on my hand. I let him guide me through the crowd, smiling on cue, answering shallow questions from socialites who had nothing better to do than peel me apart with their eyes.
But then she arrived.
Lin Yunmei.
Looking like she was carved out of money and jealousy. Her red dress fit her like a promise and a threat. Her gaze found mine across the ballroom, and her smile could've curdled cream.
"I see you're still playing house," she said sweetly as she joined us.
Zihan's expression didn't change. "Yunmei."
"I wasn't sure you'd show. After all, it must be exhausting pretending to be in love with someone who barely knows your coffee order."
I didn't flinch. "Zihan takes his coffee black with no sugar and no cream. He says distractions ruin the flavor."
For the briefest second, his eyes flicked to me surprised.
Yunmei's smile cracked. "Cute. You memorized a few habits but don't confuse that with actually knowing him."
"I don't," I said softly. "But I'm learning and it seems to bother you."
She blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You've had years to be in his life but somehow, I'm the one wearing the ring."
Zihan didn't say a word.
He didn't have to.
The silence after my words was louder than anything he could've said.
Yunmei's jaw tightened. "You don't belong here."
"Then maybe stop inviting me into your conversations."
She walked away after that — not in defeat, but in retreat.
And Zihan… he actually chuckled. Quietly but I heard it.
"I didn't expect that," he murmured.
"What?"
"That fire."
"I didn't expect you to leave me alone with her either."
He gave me a sidelong glance. "You handled her better than most."
I looked down at my glass. "I didn't marry you to be humiliated."
"No," he said, "you married me to survive."
His voice wasn't cruel this time. Just… honest and I appreciated that more than I expected.
Later that night, after the gala, we rode home in silence. The tension between us had shifted. It wasn't cold anymore, it wasn't warm either. It was something else — something crackling beneath the surface.
When we reached the penthouse, I moved to step out of the car, but he touched my wrist gently.
"Wait."
I froze. "What is it?"
"You stood up for yourself tonight."
"I wasn't going to let her treat me like a rag she forgot to throw away."
He looked at me carefully, as if seeing me for the first time. "You didn't hesitate."
"I'm tired of pretending I'm not enough."
For a moment, he didn't speak.
Then, almost reluctantly, he said, "You were more than enough."
I swallowed hard. His voice was low, sincere and dangerous because part of me wanted to believe him.
"Thank you," I said. And I meant it.
That night, sleep didn't come easily.
I kept thinking about the look in his eyes when he said those words. The way his tone shifted — not cold, not business-like, but real like he saw me not just as a wife for show, but as a person. A woman and maybe that scared me more than anything because if this fake marriage ever felt real…
Then what would happen when it had to end?
The next morning, I walked into the dining room to find breakfast already prepared. Zihan was reading the paper, expression calm, coffee in hand.
"You're up early," I said.
"So are you."
"I didn't sleep well."
"Neither did I."
A pause.
Then he folded the paper neatly, set it down, and met my gaze.
"I have a proposition," he said.
I raised an eyebrow. "Another one?"
He didn't smile. "Let's move you into the master bedroom."
My heart stopped. "What?"
"The staff are starting to talk, my mother's asking questions and Yunmei's watching you like a hawk."
"And this is your solution?"
"It's practical. We don't need to sleep together just need to be seen together."
I stared at him. "You think this will make things easier?"
"I think it will make things believable."
He was right and that annoyed me.
"Fine," I said. "But I'm keeping my bookshelf."
"Deal."
He took a sip of coffee. "Also, we have another event tomorrow."
"Another one?"
"It's a company dinner with investors. You'll need to smile."
"I'm getting very good at pretending," I muttered.
His gaze lingered on me. "You're not pretending as well as you think."
And with that, he stood and walked away leaving me stunned, curious and more unsure of myself than ever.