Behind closed doors

wedding

The grand, luxurious wedding hall buzzed with excitement, filled with guests in their finest attire. The air was thick with the scent of fresh flowers, and chandeliers sparkled overhead like a thousand diamonds. Damien stepped into the room, his presence commanding attention without a word. His father, visibly anxious, was standing by the entrance, his face a picture of stress.

"Where were you? You know how much we’ve been stressing!" his father barked, his voice sharp with irritation.

Damien, barely fazed, looked at him with a bored expression. "I was hungover," he said nonchalantly, adjusting his suit jacket with a casual flick of his wrist.

His father’s anger flared instantly. "Today is your wedding, Damien! You can’t just waltz in like this!"

Damien raised an eyebrow, his voice dripping with indifference. "So what? I’m here now. What more do you want?"

His father, exasperated, threw up his hands. "Fine, fine, just go on stage."

Without another word, Damien turned and strode toward the stage at the front of the hall, his movements purposeful. The guests began to murmur, some with curiosity, others exchanging knowing glances, but Damien paid them no mind. He was here for a reason, and it wasn’t to please anyone.

As he reached the stage, he took his place next to the altar, his back straight, his gaze unwavering. The room fell into a hush as the music began to play softly, signaling the arrival of the bride.

Then, the doors at the back of the hall opened. A collective gasp filled the air as Sophia walked in, radiant and stunning, as though she had stepped out of a dream. Her white gown shimmered under the lights, and every step she took was a graceful movement of elegance and poise. Her eyes were focused ahead, locked on the man she was about to marry.

Damien couldn’t help but glance at her, his usual expression unchanged, though there was something about her beauty that made him pause for a moment. She was perfect for the role—elegant, poised, and a perfect match for the life he had planned. But his heart was empty, untouched by the grandeur of the day.

Sophia reached the altar and took her place beside him. As their eyes met, she smiled, a genuine warmth in her expression. For a fleeting moment, Damien felt something stir within him, but he quickly shut it down. He had no time for feelings. This was all just a transaction.

The ceremony continued smoothly, vows exchanged, promises made. The guests remained mesmerized by the spectacle, but for Damien, it felt like another routine. The words were all familiar to him—business as usual. But then came the moment that changed everything.

The priest handed them the rings. Damien took the ring for Sophia with a cold, indifferent touch, while she reached for his with an eager, excited expression. Her eyes sparkled with the hope of a new beginning. As she slid the ring onto his finger, there was a glimmer of joy in her smile. She looked up at him, expecting something—anything—a sign that he was as invested in this as she was.

But when it came time for Damien to put the ring on her finger, his movements were abrupt and harsh. He grabbed the ring and shoved it onto her finger, his actions lacking the tenderness that the moment required. It was as though he was simply going through the motions. The force with which he placed the ring on her hand caused her to wince, but she quickly masked the pain with a smile. Maybe it was just a mistake. She thought maybe he didn’t mean to hurt her.

Sophia, trying to keep her composure, glanced at him, her smile lingering despite the roughness of the moment. Damien didn’t seem to notice or care. He just stared ahead, his mind elsewhere. But then, as if on autopilot, he leaned down and kissed her, a quick, fleeting kiss that didn’t carry the warmth or passion that one might expect from a wedding day.

The kiss was brief, just enough to seal the ceremony, and as their lips met, Sophia's heart skipped a beat, hoping that somehow, someday, Damien might change. But deep down, she knew he wasn’t the man she had hoped for.

The guests clapped, and the atmosphere returned to its celebratory tone, but for Damien and Sophia, the real journey had only just begun. And as they stood side by side, the weight of what was to come loomed over them, leaving them both wondering if this union could ever turn into something real or if it would remain nothing more than an arrangement—one that neither of them had truly asked for, but one that they had both accepted.

Sophia sat in the car beside Damien, feeling a heavy silence between them. She had hoped that, maybe, after the wedding, things might change. She was still in shock from the ceremony, but she expected something—a simple gesture, like holding her hand. So, without waiting for him to offer, she gently reached for his hand, only for him to push it away with irritation.

"What? Why are you being so touchy?" Damien's voice was cold, his gaze fixed out of the window, his mind elsewhere.

Sophia was taken aback. The sting of his rejection hit harder than she expected, but she swallowed her hurt and remained silent, trying to convince herself it was nothing, maybe just a moment of impatience.

When the car finally pulled up to their home, Sophia took a deep breath, hoping Damien would show some semblance of affection, or at least some acknowledgment of her presence. But Damien didn't even wait for her to exit the vehicle. He opened the door, stepped out, and began walking toward the house without sparing her a single glance.

"damein, where are you going?" his mother’s voice called out, stopping him in his tracks.

Damien turned, his expression hard and emotionless. "I’m going to take some rest," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

"But you can't just disappear like this," his mother pressed, concern evident in her voice.

Suddenly, Damien paused, pulling out his phone and pretending to receive a call. "I need to go. I'll be back later," he said, not even bothering to explain himself. He turned and left, leaving Sophia standing by herself in confusion.

His mother, seemingly used to his behavior, sighed and turned to Sophia. "I'm sorry about him," she said, her voice soft and apologetic. "You know how it is... the workload. He just needs some space."

Before Sophia could respond, the homies—Damien's friends—approached her with forced smiles. One of them, with a bit of awkwardness, added, "Come with us, Sophia. We’ve prepared a room for you. It’s full of flowers. Just... a little something to make you feel better."

As they led her to a room adorned with delicate blooms, Sophia felt a tinge of emptiness. No matter how beautiful the room was, it couldn’t fill the void Damien’s indifference had created. But she followed them, unsure of what else to do, still wondering if this cold marriage was the life she had envisioned.

Sophia waited for hours, staring at the clock as the hands moved painfully slow. The room, filled with flowers, had lost its charm. What was the point of all this beauty if the man she married couldn’t even look at her? She had told herself over and over that she just needed to be patient. That he would come, that he would speak to her, that maybe—just maybe—he would show her the slightest warmth.

Finally, close to midnight, the door creaked open. Damien entered.

Sophia sat up immediately, her eyes lighting up with hope. "You’re here... I was waiting for you," she said softly.

But he didn’t reply. He didn’t even look at her properly. His eyes were dark, unreadable, and full of something she couldn’t place. Without a word, he walked past her, heading straight for the bathroom. The sound of running water filled the silence, and Sophia sat frozen, the excitement draining from her.

Minutes later, he stepped out, dressed in loose black pants and a t-shirt, his damp hair tousled. She waited for him to say something—anything—but he simply walked to the bed and sat beside her.

Sophia’s heart pounded. Maybe now… maybe he’ll talk. Maybe he’ll tell me why he was cold earlier. Maybe he just needs time.

She looked at him expectantly, searching for any sign of softness in his expression. Then, suddenly, Damien reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box.

Her breath caught in her throat. A gift? He bought me something?

As he handed it to her, a flicker of happiness bloomed in her chest. She quickly took it, fingers trembling as she opened the box to reveal a delicate, expensive necklace. Her lips parted in surprise.

"So... you were gone buying this?" she asked, a smile forming, her heart swelling with hope.

For the first time that night, Damien looked directly at her. His gaze was sharp, distant.

"No," he said flatly. "My dad bought it and told me to give it to you. Nothing more."

Sophia felt the air leave her lungs.

The tiny spark of happiness inside her extinguished in an instant, replaced by an aching heaviness in her chest. Her fingers tightened around the necklace as if gripping it could somehow hold together the pieces of her breaking heart.

She lowered her gaze, forcing a small smile to hide the pain. "Oh... I see," she murmured.

But inside, she felt like shattering.

Sophia sat frozen, gripping the necklace so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Her heart was already aching from his cold words, but nothing could have prepared her for what came next.

Damien exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before turning his piercing gaze to her. "Listen," he said, his voice low but firm. "I’m not interested in you."

Sophia blinked, her breath hitching.

"I can’t love," he continued, each word like a blade sinking into her chest. "You’re my wife, yes, but don’t expect anything from me. I married you for one reason—" His eyes darkened, his expression void of warmth. "For a child. That’s all."

Sophia felt her entire world tilt. Her hands trembled as she stared at him, trying to process the cruelty of his words.

A lump formed in her throat, but before she could even react, before she could demand an explanation, Damien reached out and yanked the necklace from her grip. The cold metal slipped from her fingers as he carelessly tossed it onto the table.

"D-Damien…" she whispered, her voice barely audible, but he didn’t give her a chance to speak.

Without warning, he grabbed her waist and pulled her against him. His lips crashed against hers, rough and demanding, with no tenderness—only possession.

Sophia gasped, her hands pushing against his chest, but he was too strong. His fingers dug into her skin, his kiss punishing, claiming her as if she was nothing more than an obligation.

Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

This wasn’t how she imagined her wedding night.

This wasn’t how love was supposed to feel.

Yet, despite the pain, despite the heartbreak, a foolish part of her still hoped.

Maybe... just maybe... he wasn’t as heartless as he seemed.

Sophia’s body trembled as she tried to push him away, but Damien didn’t stop. His grip was unyielding, his actions driven by nothing but control.

"Damien, please…" she whimpered, her voice barely escaping between gasps.

He ignored her, his hands firm as he continued, indifferent to her pain. The moment was supposed to be special—something she had dreamed of since she was young. But now, it felt like a nightmare.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she pleaded again. "I-It hurts… please stop…"

But Damien didn’t even pause. His expression remained cold, detached, as if her pain didn’t matter. When she struggled, he only tightened his hold, silencing her by pressing a hand against her lips.

Her muffled cries filled the room, and she felt utterly powerless.

With every passing second, the truth sank deeper into her heart—Damien Carter didn’t care.

Not about her feelings.

Not about her pain.

Not about her at all.

And that realization shattered something inside her.

The morning light streamed through the curtains, casting a soft glow on the empty bed beside her.

Sophia slowly opened her swollen eyes, her body aching from the night before. She tried to sit up, but pain shot through her, making her flinch. The memories came rushing back—his cold hands, his rough touch, his complete disregard for her pleas.

Tears welled in her eyes again, but she wiped them away. Crying wouldn’t change anything.

She glanced around the room. Damien was gone. Not a single trace of him, as if he had never been there in the first place.

Taking a deep breath, she stood up, her legs trembling under her weight. She made her way to the mirror, her reflection a painful reminder of what had happened. Her skin was marked with bruises, her lips swollen from his forceful kisses, and her eyes held nothing but emptiness.

Her fingers instinctively went to the necklace he had placed on the table last night. The one his father had bought. It was meant to be a gift, a symbol of something special, but now it felt like a cruel joke.

She held it in her hands for a moment before letting it slip through her fingers, hitting the floor with a soft clink.

Her heart clenched.

He didn't care.