If I had known what kind of person he really was, I would have never agreed to this marriage.
Scratch that—I would have never let him into my life in the first place.
But I didn't know.
When my relatives adopted him, I thought he was just another mouth to feed.
As we grew up, I began to hate him. He was perfect in all the ways I wasn't. My parents adored him. My teachers praised him. Strangers compared me to him.
I thought he hated me too.
We were rivals. We avoided each other. We threw sharp words and cold glares like it was a sport. I was certain we both wanted nothing to do with each other.
But when our families arranged our marriage, I realized I was wrong.
I thought I was trapped in a political marriage.
But what I didn't know…
I wasn't trapped by politics.
I was trapped by him.
The signs came too late.
The way he always knew where I was.
The way my friends quietly vanished.
The way his hand lingered on my wrist just a little too tightly. The way his smile grew wider whenever I tried to pull away.
I thought he was my rival.
But I was always his.
And now? I think I might never get out.