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

Chapter 13

“Veronica… I thought we were staying at the resort for three days?” My voice broke the heavy silence inside the car. We hadn’t spoken since earlier, and my head still throbbed—not from alcohol, but from the remnants of a dream I wished I hadn’t woken up from.

“You don’t even want me with you,” she answered, eyes locked on the road, hands firm on the steering wheel. “Why would we stay longer?”

I turned my gaze to the window, watching the city blur past us. Her words stung more than I expected. Guilt crawled slowly into my chest. Maybe I had been unfair. Maybe I should at least try—just a little—to be decent to her.

“To be honest,” she continued, her voice steady, “this wedding isn’t in my favor either. I was forced to marry you too. There are plenty of women out there who are more beautiful… sexier.”

My lips parted in disbelief. Did she really just say that?

“So,” I said carefully, “I’m not your type?”

She hummed, as if thinking deeply. “You’ll do.”

I scoffed. “Wow. You’re unbelievably arrogant.”

Her lips curved into a short laugh. “It’s not my intention to be mean. I’m just being honest, and—” she paused, exhaling softly. “I’m trying to be nice to you.”I turned to her, confused.

“No matter what happens,” she continued, “we’re trapped in the same cage. Not as criminals—just victims. I’m giving this marriage a chance. Maybe it could work.” She glanced at me briefly before returning her focus to the road. “I’m not asking you to be the perfect wife. But if you ever date someone else… at least make sure no one sees you.” My chest tightened.

“You’re married now,” she added. “People know you’re married to me. What do you think they’ll say? The wife of Mr. Ymor’s only daughter is dating someone else.”

My throat burned. “Are you calling me a slut?” Tears welled up in my eyes, hot and uncontrollable. Was that what she thought of me? Just because I went out with Yaul?

“I never said that,” she replied calmly. Too calmly. “I didn’t say anything like that.”

“You judged me anyway,” I snapped. “Is this about Yaul? Do you really think I’m that kind of person?”

“That’s not my point.”

“Whatever your point is—fine.”

With shaking hands, I grabbed my phone and dialed Yaul’s number.

“Hi, Zyhra,” his cheerful voice greeted me. “You’re back already? Want to hang out later? There’s a bonfire tonight—”

“Stop,” I interrupted. “I’m married. Goodbye.” I ended the call before he could say anything else. The car slowed to a stop on the side of the road.

“Happy now?” Veronica sighed, finally turning to face me. Her expression was unreadable—always calm, always guarded.

“That wasn’t my point, Zyhra,” she said quietly. “I just want you to be careful. We’re married. We belong to one of the most influential families.”

“I get it,” I said bitterly. “You’re protecting your image. But I’m protecting mine too. You know this kind of relationship isn’t accepted. People aren’t just talking about us—they’re judging us.”

She was silent for a moment, then spoke with a conviction I didn’t expect.

“I don’t see anything wrong with same-s*x marriage. They’re just being themselves. When the heart chooses who to love, there’s nothing you can do. There’s no absolute right or wrong in this world—only perspectives.” She paused. “What looks foolish to you might be the wisest choice for someone else.” I listened, stunned. “We’re trapped in a concept that society built,” she continued. “A concept that tells us who we should be. And when we don’t follow it, you're in the wrong path.” I swallowed hard.

“If you’re ashamed of our marriage,” she said softly, “Well, I’m proud of it. The world believes love only exists between a man and a woman. They don’t know that Juliet can love Juliet, or Romeo can love Romeo.” A small laugh escaped her. “It’s not normal—it’s unique. A Uniquecorn.” she added.

The words settled heavily in my chest, not painful, but unfamiliar like something warm I didn’t know I needed. I felt my throat tighten, my heartbeat slowing, as if the noise inside my head had finally learned how to listen. No one had ever spoken about us like that, not with pride, not without hesitation. I didn’t know whether to feel comforted or terrified. A part of me wanted to laugh with her, to brush it off as another clever line from someone who always seemed so sure of herself. But another part was quieter, more dangerous, felt seen and defended. Protected in a way I had never asked for but somehow longed for.

I looked away, afraid she might notice the cracks forming in my composure. I had spent so long convincing myself that this marriage was something to endure, something to survive. But at that moment, her words made it feel less like a sentence, and more like a possibility. And that scared me more than the judgment of the world ever could.

“Yes, my image matters,” she admitted. “But what do people say about my sexuality? I don’t care. I have people who truly accept me. My father supports me. And I know that no matter who I am, God will accept me too. As long as I don’t hurt anyone.”

I couldn’t speak. Her words settled deep inside me, heavy and unfamiliar.

Still, one question lingered in my mind.

Why did Dad choose this for me?

She started the engine again, silence reclaiming the space between us.

Minutes passed.

“Zyhra?” she called softly, but I didn’t respond. “I’m sorry about earlier,” she said. “I never meant to hurt you. I know you’re not that kind of girl. I’m just… confused.” Her voice dropped. “I don’t know if I like you—or if I’m already falling in love with you.”

“I’m not asking you to love me,” I said quietly.

“I know. But I can’t stop myself.” She smiled sadly. “I like you a lot, Angel. And I know how much you hate this—being married to a woman.”

“Then don’t like me,” I replied. “You said it yourself—there are better women out there. Let’s pretend outside, and keep strangers inside. Eventually, we’ll get used to it.”

“Zyhra—”

“Just drive,” I cut her off.

She sighed, and the road stretched endlessly ahead. When we finally arrived at the mansion in Pasig, exhaustion weighed heavily on me. The house was massive—three floors, a pool, a garden. Too big but it is also empty.

“Your room is on the second floor,” Veronica said. “Last door on the right. I had Manang arrange your things. I know you don’t want to share a room with me.”

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“If you need anything, just ask Manang Len,” she added. “My room is across from yours.”

For an arranged marriage, she was kinder than I expected. She never forced anything on me. She even encouraged me to finish my studies. I’m twenty, but still a student—thanks to K-12. I don’t know if I’m ready to face the world again. Or the people who will look at me differently now.

Still, I’m free. Free—but within limits.

Freedom, I realized, wasn’t always about open doors. Sometimes it was simply knowing which ones hadn’t locked yet.

Veronica isn’t cruel. She just looks cold, like a wall built from discipline and expectations. Maybe… we could be friends. That wouldn’t be so hard. Friendship felt safer than anything else. Friendship had rules I understood. Besides, it’s impossible for her to like me anyway. I’m not her type. That’s what she said. Even if I’m pretty. Even if I’m sexy.

I smirked at my own thoughts, shaking my head. Maybe someday, just to prove a point, I’d remind her exactly how sexy I am.

I reached my bedroom door and paused, my hand hovering over the knob. On the other hand was a new life I hadn’t chosen, a marriage I didn’t understand, and a woman I barely knew, but who had already said more honest things to me than most people ever had.

I exhaled slowly and stepped inside.

For now, survival was enough.

Friendship was enough.

Distance was enough.

Or at least, that’s what I told myself.