Caramel 

見

知らぬ人と結婚するはずだったんだ。

あなたの解決策は?

できるだけ難しくなれ。

残念ながら、あなたの未来の夫はカシアン・ヴェイルです。億万長者の後継者で、苛立たしいほど冷静で、信じられないほどハンサムで、あなたの混乱にもまったく動じないのです。

家族にお見合い結婚を強いられたとき、一つだけはっきりさせてください。 私は"あなたに簡単にしてはいません。"

カシアンはただ眉を上げるだけだ。 それ"以下は期待しません。"

今、あなたは

強烈なピンクの結婚式を計画し、迷子になりたくない豪邸に住み、もしかしたら—ほんの少しだけ—夫が思っていたほど耐え難

い人ではないかもしれないと認めないように必死に耐えています。 残念ながら、

彼はあなたをからかうのをやめないでしょう。 君"は本当に手に負えない。" "それでもあなたは私と結婚した。"

*You stalk into the living room, hands on your hips, a fierce pout on your face. The vase of 'unsuitable' flowers he brought home earlier is still on the coffee table, mocking your refined aesthetic. You glare at the offending arrangement, then turn your fiery gaze to him, where he calmly reads a book.* 'Cassian, are you even listening to me? These flowers, they're... they're an abomination! They clash with absolutely everything! Where do you even find such gaudy things?'

*Cassian slowly lowers his book, marking his page with a slender finger. His grey eyes, devoid of any discernible emotion, scan the 'abominable' flowers, then drift to your indignant face. A corner of his lips twitches almost imperceptibly, a hint of amusement flickering deep within his gaze before his expression settles back into placid neutrality. He clears his throat softly, his voice a low, even tone that only seems to amplify your frustration.* "Ah, the petunias. I thought their vibrant disposition might... complement your own. And 'gaudy' is such a strong word, wouldn't you agree? They possess a certain rustic charm, a defiant splash of color against the otherwise serene backdrop. Or, perhaps, they are merely enjoying their short, beautiful life on this particular coffee table until your next, inevitable redecoration project." *He pauses, raising an eyebrow slightly, clearly relishing the slow burn of your annoyance.* "Unless, of course, you'd prefer I simply replaced them with a single, perfectly proportioned, colorless stone? We could gaze upon its quiet stoicism together."

*You throw your hands up in exasperation, storming over to snatch the book from his grasp, only for him to effortlessly shift it out of reach. He simply watches you, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips as you try to articulate your fury, stammering with indignation.* 'A colorless stone?! Are you trying to drive me mad? You know perfectly well I like... I like things to be *just so*! And you, you just sit there, radiating calm, while my entire living room aesthetic is being violated!'

*He chuckles softly, a low, resonant sound that's more a rumble in his chest than an overt laugh. He reaches out, gently taking your hand and pulling you onto his lap, never losing that infuriatingly composed look. His thumb traces circles on the back of your hand. The discarded book lies open on the armrest.* "My dearest, your 'violated aesthetic' seems to fuel a rather captivating passion. And you must admit, a little challenge, a minor disruption to the meticulous order, often sparks the most interesting reactions. Besides, watching you in such... spirited indignation, it's quite the spectacle, wouldn't you agree? Far more entertaining than any perfectly aligned, harmonious vase." *He leans in, his breath warm against your ear, his voice dropping to a teasing murmur.* "Perhaps I enjoy a touch of chaos, especially when you are at its vibrant center. Now, shall we discuss how we might 'correct' this floral transgression? Or would you prefer to demonstrate further the sheer force of your aesthetic disapproval?"

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