The first time Christoph and I truly saw each other for who we were was five years into our marriage.

He was furious. “Gina, do you have to throw yourself at me every day? Do you even understand what a platonic relationship means?”

I blinked awake, realizing I’d fallen asleep in the bathtub from sheer exhaustion.

Before I could explain, he threw on his clothes, dragged my naked body outside into the yard and hissed, “If you love being naked that much, why not enjoy it out here?”

He ignored my pleading, ignored the freezing winter air and even called the household staff to come and watch. It wasn’t until I collapsed with a high fever that he finally let me be.

Half-conscious from the heat burning through me, I stumbled to find medicine—only to hear heavy breathing coming from his room.

Peering through the crack of the door, I caught a glimpse of him tangled up in the sheets... with my widowed sister-in-law.

So this was his idea of “platonic love.”

Barely able to stand, I staggered back to my room and called his mother, Jill. “Mom, remember how you once suggested letting Chris take on both families? I’m ready to agree—but I have one condition.”

——

Jill paused, clearly stunned—then lit up with excitement. “Gina, are you serious? You’re really willing to share Chris? You’re not just trying to cheer your old mother-in-law up in the middle of the night, are you? Name your condition—I’ll agree to anything!”

I stared at the ceiling, silent tears slipping down my cheeks.

The first time my mother-in-law brought up that absurd idea—that Christoph should "honor both families"—I was so furious I shattered a teacup.

She wanted me to give up my husband so Natalie, her widowed daughter-in-law, could stay in the family and "carry on the line"?

How could I ever agree to something like that?

But I could care less... Now that the two of them are already sneaking around behind my back, what difference does it make whether I agree or not?

The man who once swore he loved me, who spoke so poetically about us pursuing a platonic love together…

He’s tainted now.

How ironic. When he dragged me—completely naked—into the freezing yard to "punish" me, he had the nerve to say I was the one who ruined his ideal of love.

Everyone in the Capital City saw us as the perfect couple. Even I believed it. I thought that even without sex, what we had would stay beautiful—pure.

That illusion got shattered, completely and irreversibly, the moment I heard those breathy moans rising from the guest room. I could still hear them now. It was faint, but unmistakable.

I let out a bitter laugh and said softly into the phone, “No, I’m not just saying this to humor you. I really agree. I just have one condition: Christoph needs to sign a document.”

Her excitement was almost shrill. “Yes, yes, of course! I knew you were a sensible girl, Gina! First thing tomorrow, I’ll talk to Chris about it. I promise—it’s just to help Nata have a baby. You two will still be the perfect couple that everyone envies!”

After hanging up the phone, I curled into a ball.

Even with the heat on full blast and wrapped in layers of blankets, I couldn’t stop shaking. Not from the cold—but from the sound coming through the wall.

They didn’t stop until nearly dawn. Every breathless moan, every creak of the bed, felt like a knife slowly carving into my chest.

Five years of marriage. Five years of so-called platonic love. In the end, it was all just a cruel joke.

I first met Christoph in the university library. He was sitting by the window, sunlight spilling over him like gold. He was reading "The Republic", completely absorbed. He looked so calm, so focused—it was love at first sight.

“You like Plato too?” I asked.

When Christoph looked up, his eyes were so bright they practically sparkled. I had no idea then that this simple question would become the chain around my neck for the next five years.

Before we were married, Christoph treated me with such respectful distance. I thought it was because he truly loved me—loved me enough to be gentle, patient, even reverent.

Yet, after we said our vows, he refused to sleep with me.

When I asked why, confused and hurt, he held my face in his hands and said, with that soft look in his eyes, “Gina, real love should transcend the physical. We should aim for something higher—something spiritual.”

I loved Christoph, so I believed him. I even felt proud of our situation. Proud that our love was so pure, so untouched by desire.

Every time I reached for him, needing closeness, craving connection, he’d gently push me away with the same soft excuse, “Let’s not taint what we have, Gina. Our love is sacred.”

Looking back now, the signs were all there—so obvious I almost hate myself for missing them. The way his eyes lit up when he looked at Natalie. How he’d dress up every time she visited. The times I walked in on them alone and they’d spring apart like guilty teenagers.

I cried until my pillow was soaked. My heart felt hollowed out. That night, I drafted the divorce papers. Then finally drifted into a fitful, aching sleep.

I was woken the next morning by a gentle voice.

Christoph stood by the bed, wearing an apron, holding a plate of my favorite—strawberry pancakes. “Sweetheart, breakfast is ready,” he said cheerfully. “Come on, time to enjoy something delicious.”

He leaned down to kiss my forehead. I instinctively pulled away.

He paused, surprised, then smiled even more tenderly—like he hadn’t thrown me out naked into the snow and humiliated me just hours ago.

“What’s wrong? Didn’t sleep well?” He reached out to touch my face.

I flinched again.

The red marks on Christoph’s neck stung more than my eyes could bear.

He noticed where I was looking and scratched his neck awkwardly. “Must’ve been a mosquito last night… weird, right? How’d you sleep?”

I didn’t answer.

Outside the door, a few of the house staff exchanged glances. Their eyes flicked toward me—some with pity, others with barely hidden amusement.

I turned and headed straight for the bathroom, only to nearly collide with Natalie at the door.

“Morning, Gina!” she said, all saccharine cheer. “Hope you don’t mind me crashing breakfast.”

She casually tugged at her neckline, revealing more skin. Her chest and collarbone were littered with unmistakable love bites.

“Huh… strange. This time of year shouldn’t have mosquitoes, right?” She leaned in slightly, her tone mocking. “Chris and I both got bitten. Guess you must’ve been spared, huh?”

Her eyes flicked to my bare neck, a smirk curling at the corner of her lipstick-slicked mouth.

I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms so hard I should’ve felt pain. I didn’t.

“Move,” I said, my voice low.

She stepped aside with a little laugh, but as I brushed past, she leaned in and whispered, “You heard how passionate Chris was with me last night, didn’t you? Poor thing—you’ve never had it that good.”

Suddenly, it all made sense. The reason Christoph always locked the bedroom door at night like he was guarding treasure. Natalie must’ve left it ajar on purpose—wanted me to hear, wanted me to know.

The smugness in her eyes, the triumph on her face—it snapped something in me. Without thinking, I raised my hand and slapped her. Hard. Natalie stumbled back, clutching her cheek, wide-eyed, tears welling fast.

“If you didn’t want me joining you for breakfast, Gina, you could’ve just said so,” Natalie said, voice trembling with wounded innocence. “You didn’t have to hit me…”

She turned and hurried off, her steps quick and shaky—only to run straight into Christoph at the end of the hall.

He caught her instinctively, arms wrapping around her as she buried herself in his chest. His expression shifted the moment he saw her face—reddened, marked by my hand.

He gently cupped her cheek, examining her like she was some delicate porcelain doll. His eyes filled with concern, with protectiveness he’d never shown me.

Then he turned to me, fury flashing in his eyes. “Gina! What the hell is wrong with you? Why would you slap Natalie? Have you lost your mind?”

Natalie provoked me. She wanted this. She asked for it.

Before I could even open my mouth, Natalie spoke first—soft and self-effacing. “Chris… it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have come and interrupted your time with Gina. It’s only natural she’d be upset. Don’t be mad at her, please…”

And just like that, he looked at me like I was a monster. Like I was the one tearing everything apart.

“Apologize to her,” he snapped. His voice sharp as glass.

I stared straight into his eyes and said, clear and cold, “She deserved it.”

That was the last straw. His face darkened, his fury boiling over. In a flash, he grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me toward the staircase.

I clung desperately to the railing, but he pried my fingers off, one after another. The servants stood off in the distance, whispering amongst themselves. Not one of them dared step in.

My pajama top tore in the struggle, baring my skin to the icy air. Humiliation rushed back like a wave—the memory of last night, naked and punished in front of everyone. Christoph didn’t even flinch.

“So you’re still angry about last night,” he said coldly. “Fine. Be mad at me. But don’t take it out on others.”

“You’ll kneel right here and think about what you’ve done. When you finally understand your mistake, you’ll apologize to your sister-in-law. Don't you realize that people will begin to think that the Raders couldn't stand the sight of having a widower in their family?” With that, he threw me—hard—into the snow.

My knees slammed into the ice. The cold pierced through my thin pajamas like knives.

“Christoph, I didn’t do anything wrong.” I clenched my teeth, shivering, refusing to comply.

He scoffed, then turned to the butler with a sneer. “Gather everyone. Let them all see how petty you are.”

Within minutes, a dozen servants were lined up under the covered walkway, watching. I knelt alone in the snow, like a criminal awaiting her sentence.

“Say it again, I dare you!” Christoph snapped. “If you're so desperate for a man, I can hire a hundred of them to keep you company. But lay a hand on my sister-in-law again and you're done.”

His words cut deeper than if he’d stripped me naked and paraded me in front of a crowd.

This was the man I had loved for three years. The man I married and built a life with for five.

He could stomach other men seeing me bare. He could even stomach rumors of me sleeping around. Yet he couldn’t tolerate, won't even think twice, about me upsetting the woman he truly cared about.

Natalie stood smugly at his side, putting on that fake sweet voice she’d perfected, “Chris, let it go, okay? Gina probably just had a bad day…”

“Oh, so having a bad day gives her the right to hit people?” Christoph raised his voice, loud enough for the entire house to hear. “If she doesn’t apologize today, I don’t care if she passes out—she’s not getting up until she does!”

Snow began to fall. Within minutes, my hair and lashes were coated in a frosty white sheen. My fingers were numb, my lips trembling uncontrollably from the cold.

Natalie took the opportunity to crouch beside me, pretending to be concerned. But her words were knives, whispered only for me to hear. “Did you know Chris said you're not even worth a strand of my hair? That every time he touches you, he feels sick? Honestly, if I were you, I’d just die and get it over with.”

I looked up sharply and caught the cruel smile in her eyes.

Something inside me snapped. Rage boiled over. I grabbed a handful of snow and slammed it straight into her smug, pretty face.

Natalie suddenly let out a dramatic scream as she dropped to the ground like she’d been struck by lightning.

That was all it took for Christoph to lose it. He grabbed the front of my pajama top, yanked it open and shoved me down into the snow.

“Oh, so you still don’t want to admit your mistakes?”

Before I could react, he scooped up a handful of snow and shoved it down the front of my shirt. The freezing cold hit me like a shock to the system. I let out a scream I didn’t even know was in me.

But he didn’t stop. He kept rubbing snow into my face, my neck—rough, relentless, until my skin burned from the cold.

“Apologize!” he barked.

I choked on a mouthful of snow, coughing violently, tears streaming down my face. I couldn’t get a single word out.

Furious, Christoph stood up and turned to the butler. “Two hours. Start the clock. She doesn’t move until time’s up.”

Then, as if none of it had just happened, he gently took off his coat and wrapped it tenderly around Natalie’s shoulders.

“Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s go inside before you catch a chill.”

The two of them turned and walked away as if I didn’t exist. Their backs burned into my vision like a slap to the face.

Around me, the servants whispered. Some giggled. Others just stared with that look—pity, like I was already halfway gone.

Time dragged. The cold seeped deep into my bones. My knees had long since gone numb. I could feel myself swaying, losing control, until finally, I collapsed face-first into the snow.

“Madam!” Someone shouted in panic.

The door creaked open. Christoph enetered the room while fixing his cold gaze at me.