I hated the man I married. For a while, it was simple enough that I just had to it up and carry on with it. I didn't care that I had to live with him for the rest of my life because it didn't matter what I thought. It was going to happen anyway. I showed up, like I always did, and I was there for everyone else, including myself. My life was a theatrical play, and my role was vital. If I stepped even a centimeter out of line, that meant the story would fall apart. I had to be there. So I showed up.

To be fair, I didn't have anything else to do anyway. I was an impressionable child. I followed orders diligently. I always made it a point to keep myself in check. I didn't want to bother other people, and I didn't want to be a burden to anyone. At school, I was always the obedient and kind student. Among peers, I was always the quiet and shy type. I hated it, but they said they were good things, so I figured I should be thankful I was all of those things.

But I hated it. I was never special. I was never the standout. Life was bleak, and so was my existence. But all I could do was show up. And it's all I did ever since.

I was standing at the altar next to my husband when I realized how much I despised him. I heard the cheers and the whistles as the man kissed me on the lips at the priest's cue, and all I could do was stand there, frozen. I took it. When he broke away I looked at him and he had that smile on his face that never felt like it was meant for me. I said thank you to him, and he awkwardly chuckled. He said it was weird for the bride to thank the groom for kissing her on their wedding day. I said I was sorry and told him I knew it was silly. And I didn't mean to do it. I just had this feeling in me that kicked me into autopilot, and for a moment I was floating above everything and I could see myself, and I could not feel a single thing, so I panicked. I thought I was supposed to feel something, and when I hadn't, I felt like I was crazy.

I have never had my first kiss prior to my wedding. I have never let my husband kiss me in all those years we have known each other, and he was fine with it. I was fine with it. I always thought there was something wrong with me for feeling this way, but I never imagined romance, never felt eager to be kissed, and never felt obligated to fall in love. I had a hunch I was messed up, but I had no idea how messed up was messed up. 

"Why do you love me, Hao?" I asked him but he didn't hear me. So I focused back on