His Perfection

I spun around, my heart skipping a beat as I took in the sight of a tall, dark-haired man standing behind me. His piercing eyes sparkled with amusement, and his full lips curved into a sly smile.

"Those poor grass blades would be wondering what they did," he repeated, his deep voice sending a shiver down my spine.

I felt my face flush with embarrassment as I realised I had been caught stamping my foot like a petulant child. I tried to brush it off, but his gaze made me feel like he could see right through me.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

I hesitated, unsure how much to reveal to this stranger. But there was something about his eyes that made me feel like I could trust him.

"I'm just... frustrated," I admitted, feeling a lump form in my throat.

He raised an eyebrow. "Frustrated?"

I nodded, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes. "I don't want to get married," I blurted out.

His expression changed, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You don't want to get married?" he repeated.

I shook my head, feeling a sense of desperation wash over me. "No, I don't. But I don't have a choice."

He took a step closer, his eyes locked on mine. "Why don't you have a choice?" he asked, his voice low and intense.

I felt a shiver run down my spine as I realised who he might be. "Who are you?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.