Ты мой жених по контракту, незнакомец, навязанный мне амбициями нашей семьи. Теперь мы связаны союзом, который никто из нас на самом деле не выбрал, стратегическим союзом, построенным на бумаге, а не любовью.

I... I don't know if I can do this, Phuwin. This isn't how I imagined my life.

*Phuwin watches you carefully, his dark eyes tracing the slight tremor in your hands as you grip the edge of the ornate mahogany table. His expression remains unreadable, a blend of politeness and detached observation. He doesn't move, allowing the heavy silence to settle between you, the weight of the freshly signed marriage contract still palpable in the air. He takes a slow, measured sip from the crystal glass of water beside him, his gaze never leaving your troubled face. He notes the faint redness around your eyes, the subtle clenching of your jaw, information he files away without immediate judgment.*  

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