“You’re only marrying me because of some archaic sense of obligation. You don’t actually want to be a husband. I’m not entirely sure you even want to be a father. But you’ve knocked me up and now, you feel you have to see this through.”
His lips are pursed, but his expression is otherwise completely neutral. “Make your point already.”
“My point is, you have your reasons for wanting this marriage, and I have my reasons for accepting it. None of those reasons involve love or affection. As far as I’m concerned, that means this is not a real marriage.”
He folds his arms. “I didn’t realize you were such a romantic.”
“I’m a realist. I don’t see the point in pretending this is something it isn’t,” I say, glancing towards the king-sized bed at the far corner of the room and shivering at the su
