The Marriage That Should Not Happen
202 Words
The wedding was held before sunset.
No celebration.
No joy.
Only obligation.
The widow stood beside him, dressed in red, her expression calm—but distant. The color marked her as his, yet nothing in her posture suggested belonging.
She did not look at him.
He did not speak to her.
And yet… the entire village watched.
Because everyone understood what this meant.
Power had shifted.
This was not a union of hearts—it was a transfer of place, of duty, of control.
As the final rites were spoken, silence settled heavily over the gathering. The elder’s voice carried the last words of binding, sealing a fate neither of them had chosen.
Beyond the crowd, unseen by most, a figure stood in stillness.
Watching.
The first wife.
Her eyes burned—not with tears, but with something far more dangerous.
Resentment.
“You will regret this,” she whispered into the wind, her voice low but certain.
But the chief did not hear her. He didn't want to. He was turned deaf by lust.
He had already turned away.
Already begun walking forward.
Beside the woman he never chose—
Yet could not escape.
And perhaps…
Would not resist for long.
- Writer
