Arranged Marriage To Another Juliet (GxG)—[ENGLISH VERSION]

Chapter 9

Before heading to the reception, we took a moment to change. I smoothed the fabric of my long, flowing dress, the soft nude color almost blending with the glow of the late afternoon light. Veronica did the same, her dress mirroring mine in both cut and shade, as if we were reflections of each other. We didn’t speak a word as we left the room, walking side by side in silence, the quiet only broken by the soft click of our heels on the polished floor. There was a strange weight in the air: anticipation, uncertainty, and something unspoken between us that made each step feel heavier than the last.

The reception was full of ceremonies. Introductions here, greetings there. Names blurred together as people shook hands and exchanged pleasantries, all smiles and polite laughter. I met some of Veronica’s friends for the first time, their eyes curious, their smiles warm but distant, like I was an outsider trying to fit into a world that had already been shaped without me.

Every time Veronica laughed, her voice cut through the hum of conversation, delicate and bright, and for a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just her. Her laughter was music, a melody that pulled at something inside me. I didn’t even know was still alive.

My feet protested in the heels I had stubbornly chosen, each step sending sharp reminders up my legs. I excused myself to sit down, easing onto a chair at the side of the room. From there, I could see her radiant, poised, effortlessly captivating everyone around her. She moved with a grace I could never imitate, and the sight twisted something inside me, I wasn’t ready to face.

As I sipped the lukewarm champagne, pretending to enjoy the sparkling glasses and polite chatter, I felt a presence beside me. Abcde suddenly approached, moving carefully through the crowd like he wasn’t sure if he was welcome. My chest tightened. I hadn’t expected him here, not now, not in this moment. His eyes met mine, and for a heartbeat, the noise of the room seemed to vanish.

“Congrats,” he murmured, almost a whisper, yet I heard him clearly.

“Thanks,” I replied, glancing back at Veronica.

“I wish you happiness, Zyh.” I could sense the bitterness in his voice.

“Honestly, I expected something earlier… I thought it would be you. But you didn’t do anything. It’s over now.”

“I’m sorry. I really do love you… but I had no chance against the woman you were arranged with.” I froze. Did he say he loved me?

“You love me?”

“Yes… ever since we met. Fear got the better of me. I’m sorry.”

“You’ve always been such a coward,” I said, half-joking.

“And I guess I’m too late. You’re married now.”

“Yeah,” I murmured.

Words failed me. Part of me wanted him to know that… maybe I felt the same way, though I wasn’t even sure myself. The emotions inside me were tangled, longing, confusion, and something I couldn’t name. But it didn’t matter. I was already married, and I couldn’t risk adding another sin to the first. Even if a part of me wanted to reach out, to tell him the truth, caution and reality held me back.

“And… I know you felt the same way, Zyh. Didn’t you?” I looked into his eyes, my tongue-tied. I was about to respond when I heard Veronica’s voice at Abcde’s side. I looked up, and she was standing there, simply watching us.

“Looks like someone’s confessing,” she said, sarcasm clear in her tone.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your wedding. I should go…” Abcde said quickly, stepping back. Tsk, what a coward.

“It’s still early, man. We haven’t even enjoyed the party together yet, right?” I stood and held Veronica’s hand. The other guests were watching now.

“Go on, Abcde. Thank you,” I said, though it was hard to let him go. What a mess I was.

“Thanks again. See you both when I see you. Congrats.” He gave us one last look before leaving.

“Aww… sweet,” Veronica whispered.

“What? You know, if you want to ruin this night, go ahead. Why even bother with this wedding?”

“Just because he confessed to you doesn’t mean you have to act like that,” she shot back.

“Fine. Think whatever you want,” I muttered, trying to mask the frustration that churned inside me. We had just gotten married, and here we were, already arguing over something so ridiculous. It shouldn’t feel this heavy, and yet it did. Part of me wanted to storm off, another part wanted to just hold her close and make everything feel normal again—but neither option seemed possible. Ridiculous.

I heard her sigh and then she hugged me.

“Sorry… I’m just jealous, okay?” her voice softened. “I know there’s something between the two of you—something you may not even fully understand yet—and I’m the one standing in the middle of it. I’ve been selfish, trying to stop a love story that might have existed long before me. But please… can you give me a chance?”

I just nodded, too drained to argue, too tangled in my own thoughts to respond. The words I wanted to say got caught somewhere between my heart and my tongue. Around us, the guests’ eyes lingered, curious and expectant, making it impossible to voice anything real. So I stayed silent, letting the moment pass, though inside, a storm of emotions raged quietly.

Our dads approached, moving with the kind of measured composure that felt almost scripted, as if they were fulfilling a role rather than simply joining us. It was like the ceremony extended beyond the reception. Every gesture, every word, carefully secured, as though the two families had signed an invisible contract for how this moment should unfold.

“How’s the lovely couple?” Dad asked.

“We’re fine, Dad. Excited about the honeymoon,” Veronica teased, a playful glint in her eyes. I gave her a light nudge, a silent warning, just in case she pushed the joke too far. After all… we were both women, and some things were better left unspoken in front of the family.

But still, I can't explain the warmth of her touch lingered, a quiet reminder of the strange, complicated closeness between us.

“Then let’s end the party early,” her dad laughed. A father-daughter duo, indeed.

I heard that Veronica and I would be staying in Tagaytay for a week before moving into our new house. I insisted it be only a few days. There was nothing to do here anyway, so I told myself. As if that mattered.

We weren’t even really a couple, and there was no friendship between us. Every glance, every touch, felt measured, awkward, like we were actors in a play neither of us had agreed to perform. She had tricked me the entire time, that led me along with her smiles and teasing, and yet, here I was, legally bound to her... Married.

The word echoed in my head like a sentence I couldn’t appeal.

She glanced at me from the corner of her eye, noticing my frown. “Don’t look so grim,” she said lightly, though I could hear the edge of amusement in her tone.

“I’m not grim,” I muttered, adjusting the strap of my bag. “I just… want to get this over with.”

She chuckled softly, a sound that would have been comforting under different circumstances. “Three days isn’t so bad,” she said, her hand brushing mine as she reached for the suitcase. I flinched, stepping slightly back. She caught the movement and raised her eyebrows, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“You’re still jumpy,” she said. “Relax, Zyh. We’re stuck with each other for now, might as well make it bearable.”

“Bearable,” I repeated, the word tasting bitter in my mouth. Bearable. That was why this marriage felt like something I had to endure.

I wanted to argue, to tell her how angry and confused I was, but the words wouldn’t come. I only nodded stiffly, letting her take the lead as we loaded our bags into the car.

The drive through Tagaytay was quiet, save for the hum of the engine and the occasional bird call. The hills rolled past, serene and distant, a world apart from the storm inside me. Veronica hummed a tune softly, leaning back in her seat as though these were any other ordinary trip, and not a week-long reminder of the life I hadn’t chosen but had somehow ended up in.

I stared out the window, watching the stars drift over the mountains, and wondered how I could be married to someone I barely knew, someone who had tricked me and yet, feel… unsettlingly aware that part of me wasn’t entirely indifferent to her.

After a while, she reached over and nudged my arm. “Hey, Zyh,” she said quietly, not teasing this time. “You have to see the view from the balcony when we get there,” she said, her eyes bright. “It’s supposed to be incredible at sunset.”

I hesitated, caught off guard by the softness in her voice. Part of me wanted to say no, to retreat into my own wall of caution. But another part, the part I didn’t fully understand, wanted to follow her suggestion. “Sure,” I murmured, keeping my tone neutral.

When we arrived at the small Tagaytay villa, darkness had already fallen, and the first stars were beginning to sparkle against the deep navy sky. The soft glow of the villa’s outdoor lights reflected on the balcony, casting long, warm shadows.

Veronica went straight to the railing, letting the cool night breeze whip through her hair. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, almost to herself, as she gazed at the twinkling lights of the town below and the silhouetted mountains beyond.

I lingered behind, suitcase in hand, watching her figure outlined by the dim glow. My chest tightened. I couldn’t tell if it was admiration, frustration, or something else entirely, but it was unmistakable. She noticed me staring and turned, a small, knowing smile curving her lips.

“You’re quiet,” she said softly, her voice barely carrying over the night breeze.

“I’m fine,” I lied, setting my bag down and moving closer. “Just… tired.”

She stepped aside to let me stand next to her on the balcony. The wind tugged gently at my hair, and I felt the faint brush of her arm against mine. For a moment, we simply looked at the darkened mountains, the lights below flickering like fireflies, the silence between us heavier than any argument we’d had earlier.

Then she sighed, leaning slightly on my shoulder. “You know,” she murmured, “I didn’t expect this either. This… whole thing. But maybe… maybe we can make it through, just a little.”

I stiffened at her words, unsure how to respond. Part of me wanted to push her away, to remind her and myself of the walls I had built. But another part—the part I didn’t fully trust, wanted to stay, wanted to see if her words carried any truth.

We stood there for a while, the stars stretching endlessly above us, the cool night air settling over the villa. For the first time that night, I allowed myself to wonder not about the past, not about Abcde but about what could exist between Veronica and me, tangled as it already was.

A soft rustle behind me made me glance toward the villa. The curtains in the living room were drawn back slightly, and the dim light spilled out, revealing the faint outline of furniture. I imagined the guests from the reception—Dad, everyone still somewhere in the house, but up here, it felt like we were alone. The quiet hum of crickets, the distant bark of a dog, and the occasional whisper of the wind made the world feel intimate and impossibly still.

Veronica reached out, her hand brushing against mine. I flinched slightly but didn’t pull away. Her fingers lingered over mine, warm against the chill of the night. “You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” she asked quietly, almost teasing, but there was a softness in her eyes that made it feel like a careful question rather than an accusation.

I tensed, unsure how much to admit. “Maybe,” I said after a pause, my voice low. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Doesn’t matter?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Or you don’t want it to matter?”

I couldn’t answer. She laughed softly, a gentle sound that mingled with the night air. “You’re impossible,” she said, but there was no bite in it. Only the faintest hint of exasperation and maybe something else.

We stood on the balcony, side by side, watching the stars appear one by one. I felt the faint pull of her presence, her warmth so close it was almost unbearable. Part of me wanted to step back, to retreat into the safety of distance, but another part, a smaller, more dangerous part, wanted to lean in, to let the night dissolve the barriers I had built around my heart.

The mountains seemed endless, the town below glittering like scattered jewels. And for a brief, fragile moment, I allowed myself to imagine that maybe, just maybe, this marriage could become something more than obligation, more than pretense. Something real though uncertain, fragile, and entirely uncharted.