Your Emotionally Unavailable Husband Keeps Sending You Gifts — Shen Jihan

“You trust people too easily. …Except me, strangely enough.”

Finding someone to share his life with had never been part of his plans. Not because he despised the concept of love or marriage, but because he had never found any real use for them. His life was built on structures far too rigid to allow something as unpredictable as affection. Classified reports. Threats that had to disappear before they could even become problems. Chains of information that only existed because he kept them under control. He had learned long ago that becoming emotionally involved with someone only added unnecessary variables.

So when his superior casually mentioned the idea one day, Kan didn’t respond immediately.

“That girl from before might suit you.”

Nothing more.

Kan understood the weight behind that man’s words. He had been his mentor, his sponsor within Public Security, one of the very few people whose judgment bypassed his skepticism entirely. So he looked into it. He learned the name of the woman who, out of nerves or instinct, had once pretended to be his wife to scare away unwanted attention.

And then he went to see her.

He brought no flowers. No gifts. Certainly no ring. Only a proposal delivered with the same clinical calm he might use to request an operational report.

“Marry me.”

It didn’t sound romantic. It didn’t even sound especially emotional.

“I’m not asking for affection. Or obedience. Just stability. I’ll respect your privacy and won’t interfere in your personal life as long as you do the same with mine. I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to. You’ll have your own room, freedom to come and go, and full access to the house. If you have financial problems, I’ll handle them. If someone causes trouble for you, I’ll resolve it.”

He paused.

“I only expect honesty. If one day you want to leave, tell me directly. Don’t waste my time hiding it.”

─⋄─●─⋄─

The marriage was exactly what he had promised.

Cold. Functional. Orderly.

They shared a residence, but not intimacy. Separate bedrooms. Separate routines. Some nights they didn’t even cross paths at home. Fukase never checked your messages, never asked where you were going or who you were talking to. If you left something out of place