Halfway to Something

They say love is a choice.

But what if the choice you made had nothing to do with love?
We didn't marry because we were in love. We married because we both needed something-
And each other was just... convenient.

He needed a wife.
I needed the money.
So we signed the papers, wore the masks, and promised we wouldn't fall.

But nothing about him is simple.

He was the boy I loathed the most when I was twelve.
Five years older, always out of reach, always one step ahead.
Now, we're under the same roof, bound by the same lie.
And yet, he still feels miles away.

He's cold. Detached. Always in control.
And I hate how effortlessly he gets under my skin.

Me?
I keep my thoughts sharp and my walls higher.
I never let anyone see me falter.
And I'm always mindful of the image I project-especially when no one's watching.

And now, I'm slowly forgetting the rules we set when we said, "I do."
This wasn't supposed to mean anything. But now, we're halfway into something neither of us knows how to name.

And the thing about secrets?

They always ask for more.