Chapter 3

At 18, I was cornered in an alley by a gang of thugs. Their laughter was piercing, making lewd jokes, their sticky, disgusting gazes seemed to strip me bare.

Dirty hands roamed my body, filling me with nausea and despair. I struggled and called for help, but a foul mouth came to gag me, leaving me helpless.

“What are you doing?!”

At my most desperate moment, Asher appeared. He pushed me aside, “Run!” He held them off alone, no matter how bloodied, he kept them at bay.

Later, when everyone called me shameless, or even when I thought I was dirty, he firmly told me, “You’re not wrong, the wrong ones are those who did it.”

He was the light in the darkness, my last straw before dying.

So, even though the system gave me four identity choices, in my eyes, there was only ever the choice of being Asher’s wife.

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