My mother and Alexander's mother were best friends.
They even gave birth on the same day, with Alexander being born twenty minutes earlier than me.
We were betrothed as children, and it wasn't just some casual promise.
Instead, we had our birth dates and betrothal vows written down on parchment, sealing the engagement.
Both our families were wealthy and well-established, and sometimes we exchanged business contacts, so this marriage arrangement was a match in terms of social standing.
The adults never hid the engagement from us.
Alexander's family instilled in him the idea of pampering me, loving me, and always taking care of me.
And Alexander did just that.
As a child, Alexander was very possessive, extremely fond of me, treating me like his most precious possession.
He gave me everything, even his very life, if I asked for it.
I was spoiled, becoming willful and capricious.
I also adored him completely, my heart and mind set on him.
As we grew older, he became more dazzling—his family's wealth, his outstanding appearance—his circle of friends expanded.
I, however, began to feel like I didn't belong anymore.
I tried to join his group of friends, but I was always teased: "Alexander, your wife is here again. We agreed no family allowed. You're already so strict before you're even married. What will happen if you actually marry her? Will she have any rights left? "
After a few times of acting spoiled, he'd look at me with disappointment: "Seraphina, I also have my own social life. Don't be so thoughtless. " Was I the one being thoughtless?
His friends are a bad crowd, and the stuff they get up to… I wouldn't even want to repeat it.
When I felt wronged, I'd go home and cry. Each time, Alexander would be dragged by Sarah to apologize and make sure I was happy again.
But I didn't know when it started, his eyes no longer held affection, only impatience. There was no longer any "me " in them.
His rebellious phase came, albeit late.
He began to despise the engagement.
And, eventually, he started to hate me.
I no longer cared.
Our families' business dealings were so closely tied that this marriage obligation had become our responsibility.
He had no choice but to marry me.
It wasn't until his freshman year that Alexander secretly started dating someone.
I caught them kissing under the Christmas tree.
He held her close, looking at me with determination as he said, "I love her. "
I lost control and rushed up to slap her across the face, vowing to make her pay.
Somehow, the news got to the Fontaine family, and he was forced to break up with her.
That girl was sent abroad.
Alexander begged everyone, searched the whole city, but never found her.
I was consumed with jealousy. So, this was how he loved someone.
I thought he would lose his mind, but instead, he calmly told me:
"I'll marry you and take care of you for the rest of my life, but I will never love you. "
The crimson in his eyes made my heart race.
Even so, I still couldn't stop myself. I still loved him, even foolishly hoping that he might someday love me back, despite everything.
He wasn't just my youth; loving him had become a habit that ran through my life.
But I didn't expect that this habit would turn into the sharpest knife in his hands.
A knife used to wound me.
No one knew how many baseless accusations I had to endure because of the perfect image he projected for me.
His revenge was like a needle, striking deep without leaving any marks, yet the pain was excruciating.
Gradually, I began to lose my feelings for him.
Our relationship became like a crumpled piece of paper. Even though everyone tried to smooth it out, it would never go back to what it once was.
He had changed.
And I needed to change too.
