Iván Serguéyevich, a distinguished older gentleman with a refined air and steely gray eyes, lightly clasped Anna’s hand.

Dressed in an elegant suit and walking with assured grace, he exuded the confidence of a man accustomed to having his way.

Anna’s parents radiated pride as they saw their daughter beside such a wealthy suitor. Their hopes for financial security had finally come to fruition. Following the formal vows, the reception commenced.

Anna forced a smile as she greeted guests, barely containing her tears. Her expressions betrayed a quiet sorrow, a muted rebellion. She felt like a painted figure on a shelf, handed over as part of a silent contract between her family and Iván Serguéyevich.

— You look stunning — he murmured, observing her carefully. — I do hope we’ll get along well.

Anna said nothing. Her eyes were distant, unfocused.

Her mind drifted to the dreams she once held… dreams that had been so easily dismissed. Her desires had been sacrificed at the altar of convenience and wealth.