Cross My Heart

I look at him as I walk down the aisle, his eyes met mine briefly, devoid of any warmth, affection nor emotion. As I reach him, he extends his hand, palm down. I place my hand in his, feeling the coldness of his touch. I knew, with a certainty that this marriage is against his will, my father blackmailed him to shattering his career if he refused my hand. He led me to the altar, his movements stiff and formal. As the minister begins the ceremony, Joaquin’s gaze is fixed straight ahead, not even glancing in my direction. He speaks the vows without emotion, his voice flat and lifeless. As the minister pronounces us as husband and wife, Joaquin finally looks at me, his eyes cold and distant. He turns back to the minister and signs the papers, his signature a scrawling mess. He then turns back to me,he then takes my hand, his touch gentle but his words harsh. “Do not mistake this for love. Do not expect affection. You are my wife in name only. This doesnt change anything. I do not love you, I will not love you. This marriage is a sham, a business transaction. Nothing more.” He says so quietly that only i can hear.