Hannah had always prioritized Charles, naively believing this defined a healthy marital dynamic. She hoped respect would be reciprocated, but this life taught her otherwise. Some demand a mile after receiving an inch.

Charles remained silent, his face cold and hard. Hannah’s usual appeasement—catering to his tantrums—was absent. He waited for her to soften, but she declared, "If that's the case, then I think we should call off our wedding."

Charles stared, stunned. He hadn't anticipated this. Oblivious to his shock, Hannah continued, "Marriage unites families. I don't want my presence to cause misery. I accidentally stepped on Martina's dress; she must hate me."

"Hannah, you weren't like this before. You wouldn't keep suggesting we call off the wedding," Charles retorted, his tone souring. Her threat, however, forced him to swallow his frustration.

"I feel your family dislikes me," Hannah murmured.

"Why? My parents adore you. Can't you feel that?" Charles was agitated.

Hannah remained silent. He tried patience: "Be a good girl and don't overthink. My parents like you. My sister's childish, but she considers you family."

"Is that so?" Hannah asked incredulously.

"Stupid! Trust me, even if you doubt my parents. We've been together for years; when have I lied?" He feigned anger. But when had he not?

This Hannah, however, met his pretense with calm resolve.

"Don't ever say you don't want to marry me. It hurts," Charles said, pulling her into an embrace.

Hannah suppressed her disgust. Their thoughts diverged. Charles seethed over recent perceived slights, plotting future retribution. Hannah wondered how long she could maintain this charade; the embrace made her nauseous.

Their hug lingered. Charles eventually released her, his face mellow and gentle. Hannah was impressed. Her acting usually faltered; his came naturally.

"Let's return to the hall. As hostess, you can't abandon the guests," Charles said solicitously.

Hannah nodded, her eyes trembling. She saw Jane glaring furiously. Instinctively, Hannah wrapped her arms around Charles's neck.

He was surprised; she rarely initiated physical affection. He, in turn, rarely did so either. He found Hannah unexciting, preferring wild, even violent women. His politeness stemmed from disinterest, believing distance was his form of affection. Yet, her sudden action touched him.

She kissed his cheek, sensually. He smiled. "Hannah, I can't believe you're kissing me." Their previous kisses were initiated by him, brief and perfunctory.

"I'm apologizing for embarrassing your sister," Hannah said shyly. "Don't you like this?"

"Of course! Even a touch to my chest races my heart," Charles replied, placing her hand there. His heart pounded. This was the first time he felt attraction toward her; before, she'd been a mere tool.

He leaned in, kissing her. Hannah fought her true feelings. Jane's rage was palpable. Hannah turned, exacerbating Jane's fury. Her purpose served, she moved to break the kiss, but Oscar's intense gaze stopped her. Guilt washed over her. She broke away as Charles was about to deepen the kiss.

He looked reluctant to end it. He wasn't sure if his intense desire stemmed from celibacy or a burgeoning attraction. He tried to kiss her again.

"Stop. People are watching," Hannah said.

"We've been together for years, and you're still shy," Charles said, restraining himself. "Anyway, we marry in a month. On our wedding night, I must…"

Hannah cut him off. "Let's return to the hall," she said shyly.

"Alright."

They returned to the bustling hall, a lavish party unprecedented in Kensbury City. Hannah assisted her parents. Charles, by association, became part of the hosting family.

At 10:30 pm, Susan efficiently gathered a group. "I'm inviting you all to a nightclub. We may not be childhood friends, but we grew up together. Let's cherish this time."

"That's awesome!" Hannah immediately agreed.

Charles was shocked. Hannah avoided loud places and alcohol. Her uncharacteristic enthusiasm was unsettling.