13
1379 Words
The jet door opened to a rush of warm tropical air. It smelled like salt, flowers, and a kind of freedom I had never known before. For a brief second, my chest expanded easily, like I could breathe deeper here, away from the frozen steel of the pack’s expectations and the weight of everything waiting back home.
Then I saw them.
Even here, even on a secluded runway only meant for private flights, cameras were waiting.
Not as many as the city airport, not a screaming crowd, but still enough lenses to make my pulse jump. A line of paparazzi behind a fence barrier. Long camera lenses pointed at us like hungry wolves watching prey. It was quieter, controlled, but their attention was sharp as always.
Voices lifted the moment we appeared.
“Over here.”
“Smile Cassandra.”
“Kiss for the honeymoon.”
“Chase, give her your hand.”
My instinct was to pull back, to shrink into the shadows, but Chase was already moving. He reached for me without hesitation, slotting his hand around mine like it was the most natural thing in the world. His fingers wrapped firmly, warm against my palm, steadying even as my heartbeat broke into faster rhythm.
He did not look at me.
He looked at the cameras.
His expression softened just enough to look real. His eyes half lowered, his mouth relaxed into something that almost looked like affection. His thumb brushed my palm as we stepped down the stairs, and my stomach flipped.
For them, it was love.
For me, it was survival.
We walked side by side, our steps matched perfectly like we had practiced this dance a thousand times. Chase even lifted our joined hands once to wave casually at the photographers. The noise from the small crowd rose with excitement. The illusion was working. The world saw a fairytale.
Inside the mask, my lips trembled.
I did not know how to do this. Pretending. Acting comfortable. Preparing lies with my body while my mind hid behind veils and layers. Yet Chase made each movement look like truth. His posture said he was deeply in love, proudly showing off the woman he had just married. The way he guided me with his hand said that he owned this moment and everyone watching.
The way he held me made something in my chest ache.
He led me to the waiting car, a sleek black SUV parked beside the runway. Security opened the door and Chase helped me inside, shielding me from cameras until the very last second. The door shut and silence returned, muffled by thick glass.
Only then did I notice my hand still in his. I pulled back quickly, nervous, but his fingers hesitated for a second before releasing me. As if he was reminding me we had a role to play.
As the car drove through winding coastal roads, the scenery transformed into something unreal. Palm trees bent over the road like slow dancers. Long stretches of white sand curved around turquoise water. Cliffs rose from the sea like dark green giants covered in vines and flowers. The horizon was endless blue, interrupted only by the glitter of waves.
My jaw slackened behind the mask.
I had never seen anything like this before. My childhood vacations were small trips to wolf towns and forest camps, not oceans glowing under sunlight like liquid glass.
Chase glanced at me once, catching the way I stared out the window with wide eyes. His expression shifted, as if he wanted to say something, but he looked away before the words formed. He kept his arms crossed, posture guarded now that there were no cameras forcing him to be soft.
After nearly an hour, the car turned up a steep road carved into the cliff. Massive iron gates opened, revealing a villa that looked like a dream carved into earth. It rose with smooth white stone walls and large glass windows framed by dark wood. Bougainvillea vines dripped purple flowers across balconies. A stone pathway curved through lush green gardens toward the entrance.
The car stopped in front of a wide staircase. Local workers waited by the door with soft smiles. They bowed politely when Chase stepped out. I followed, suddenly conscious of how Cassandra might have walked here. Confident. Pretty. Perfect.
I did not know how to be her.
But the mask helped. So did the borrowed clothes. I kept my chin slightly raised and held my sunglasses to shield my eyes, letting Chase take the lead as always.
Workers whispered happily when they saw our hands touch again. One woman touched her heart, smiling so wide it hurt to look at her. She believed the fantasy completely. My stomach tightened.
Inside the villa, air conditioning hugged my skin, cool and scented with jasmine. The interior felt like paradise. A sweeping open floor plan with the ocean visible from every angle. White curtains blowing with the ocean breeze. An infinity pool that melted into the horizon. And behind it all, a private beach so perfect it looked unreal.
I could hear waves crashing rhythmically like a heartbeat.
Then I saw it.
Petals.
Red rose petals everywhere.
They covered the white marble floor in a delicate trail. They formed shapes on the table. They filled glass vases. They floated in bowls of water. And they were spread across the bed visible through the open bedroom doorway, spelled into two words with perfect curves.
Just Married.
My heart stopped.
The bed was large, framed by a canopy draped with silk. Candles decorated the corners. Everything screamed intimacy. Everything screamed romance. Everything screamed honeymoon.
My hand shook inside Chase’s.
Two staff members stepped forward, smiling brightly.
“Welcome home,” one said. “We decorated it exactly as Miss Cassandra requested last month. She wanted it to be a dream.”
The words hit me like a slap.
Cassandra requested this.
Cassandra planned a honeymoon with romance and petals and one bed. Cassandra wanted everything perfect. And Cassandra ran away.
I could not breathe.
Chase’s face went blank. The kind of blank that meant he was controlling every muscle not to show emotion. His jaw tensed, eyes narrowing just slightly. He looked at the manager.
“There is only one room,” he said calmly.
“Yes Alpha,” the woman answered. “Miss Cassandra said one room was romantic. No need to spoil the intimacy of a honeymoon.”
Heat flooded my skin. My ears burned. I stared at the bed, at the petals, at the silly arrangement that now felt like a cruel joke.
One bed.
No escape.
No separate space.
No relief.
They believed I was Cassandra. They believed I wanted this. They believed we were just married, deeply in love, ready to fuse our lives together in this paradise.
Chase stepped forward slightly, his voice smooth but cold.
“We were supposed to have two rooms,” he said. “That was what I requested.”
The manager looked confused. “We only received instructions from Miss Cassandra. She said she wanted every detail to reflect romance. She asked for one bed only.”
Silence settled heavy and suffocating.
My pulse thudded painful and loud.
I felt sick.
Cassandra planned everything perfectly for herself. For her dream. And yet she abandoned all of it. She abandoned him. She abandoned me. And now I was standing in her dream wearing her clothes, living her lie, walking into a bed that was never mine.
A bed meant for her.
Chase stared at the petals for a long moment. The workers waited with hopeful smiles, expecting happiness from the perfect Alpha pair. The villa felt like a stage, and I was the wrong actress standing under the spotlight.
The mask suddenly felt too tight.
I swallowed hard, but my throat offered no relief.
When Chase finally spoke, his voice was quiet. Too quiet.
“Show us the room,” he said.
The workers nodded happily and walked ahead.
He walked behind them without looking back.
I followed, my legs heavy, each step toward that bed feeling like a step deeper into a lie that now had walls, windows, and rose petals spelling a celebration that belonged to someone else.
- Writer
