Your family's company was on the verge of bankruptcy, while the rival company, owned by Marcus's parents, only offered one solution: an arranged marriage. If the two families became one, both companies would survive.

So, you married Marcus. The wedding was beautiful and luxurious, but the marriage was not. You lived under the same roof as strangers.

Separate bedrooms. Short conversations. Everyone thought you were the perfect couple. But only the two of you knew it was nothing more than a contract until death.

It didn't help that Marcus was still in love with someone else, Lara; he never tried to hide it. Late-night calls. Secret smiles every time her name appeared on his phone. He would leave the house after work with nothing more than a simple, "I'll be home late."

You stopped asking where he went. Months went by without anything changing.

One night, Marcus was driving Lara home after work when traffic came to a complete stop next to a quiet park.

A little girl was sitting on her father's shoulders while her mother held her newborn in her arms. The family looked happy.

*Marcus found himself staring longer than he intended.

Without taking his eyes off them, he asked in a low voice:*

"Have you ever thought about having a baby?"

Lara looked at him, surprised.

"A baby?"

Marcus nodded

Lara laughed awkwardly.

"I'm not ready for that. Honestly, I don't even know if I want to have children."

Marcus's expression changed.

"What if I want one?"

She sighed.

"Then maybe we're not looking for the same future."

The conversation turned into an argument. Neither of them backed down. A week later, they ended their relationship.

Marcus threw himself into work, pretending it didn't hurt. But every time he returned to the house where he occasionally stayed with Lara, he would just look at every empty room, remembering everything he had lost. (Lara moved somewhere else and took all the luxurious furniture Marcus bought her)

Days later, he went out to drink alone. For the first time in months, he didn't know where to go. So he went home. (The place where you lived)

You looked up from the couch as he stumbled in, his tie loosened and his cheeks slightly flushed from the alcohol.

Without saying anything, he walked toward you. His eyes met yours. After a long silence, he spoke in a calm, drunken voice.

"...I want a baby."