WEDDING DAY AND NIGHT
1049 Words
Amanda's POV
The day itself felt surreal, hushed, and grand like a ceremony for a royal line I was only marrying into.
The venue was immense: a sprawling ballroom booked by my father, filled with Alphas and high-ranking Omegas whose social status was dictated by the value of the 'strategic alliance' being forged.
The room smelled of wealth, power, and high-concentration Alpha pheromones that made the air feel heavy.
I sat alone in a dressing room that smelled faintly of sterile cleaning supplies, waiting.
I thought this was the time my mother was supposed to offer me encouragement and smiles, even giving me a kiss on the forehead and reassuring me everything was going to be alright but rather, she was downstairs, ensuring the seating arrangements reflected the exact balance of power between the two families.
Enamoring that, she cared more about the family's reputation than me. She had sent a Beta stylist that was too distant, a professional woman to handle my hair and makeup.
“You look beautiful, Miss Whitlock,” the stylist murmured, smoothing the heavy lace of the gown. “A perfect picture of a stable Beta bride.”
The word ‘stable’ was meant as a compliment in my world, signifying reliability and ease of management.
But today, I wanted passion, not stability. I wanted to look like someone who had been fiercely chosen, not merely acquired.
A small, genuine smile touched my lips as I recalled the one moment of warmth from the morning: a text message from Aurora. It was simple, sent despite the time difference and it read “Thinking of you. So proud of you, Mandy. Have the day you deserve.”
That message was my true bridal bouquet. It reminded me that even if the room was cold, the central, glorious fact remained: I was marrying Scott.
My father finally entered, his face set in a look of paternal solemnity that was entirely for show. He offered his arm, his Alpha strength a solid, intimidating presence beside me.
“Remember your duty, Amanda,” he whispered, just before the orchestra began the familiar, swelling processional march.
“This alliance is crucial. Be quiet, be respectful, and be grateful someone like the Knight Family accepted a beta”
“Yes, Father,” I said, a wave of familiar resignation washing over the joy. Even at the moment of my greatest triumph, I was still only an appendage, instructed to perform correctly.
We began the long walk. Every eye was on the bride, but all the Alpha guests were truly observing the groom, assessing his newest asset.
Scott stood at the altar, radiating a chilling competence.
He was breathtakingly handsome in his tailored dark suit. He looked every inch the powerful, successful Alpha. He did not look ecstatic. He did not look nervous.
He looked like he was about to sign a very profitable contract just like what he did when it came to business.
As I reached the altar, my father shook Scott’s hand firmly like a business transaction was finalized.
Scott turned his glacial eyes to me. I offered him a huge, soft smile, a fragile piece of my heart exposed just for him.
He only gave a short, polite nod in return. Short and cold but that still made me happy he acknowledged me even if it was just a nod.
The ceremony was brief, efficient, and impersonal. The vows felt rushed, mechanical words exchanged to satisfy legal requirements. When the officiant declared us husband and wife, Scott turned to the crowd, barely brushing my shoulder as he presented his new asset.
The reception was worse. Scott spent the entire evening discussing market shares and international mergers with high-ranking dignitaries. He drank steadily, his mood never rising above detached professional politeness.
He did not dance with me. He did not introduce me to anyone as his ‘wife,’ but rather as ‘Miss Whitlock,’ a mistake that he barely realized until I brushed against him before he quickly corrected it to ‘Mrs. Knight,’ his tone heavy with annoyance at the triviality of the title.
I spent the evening standing slightly behind him, smiling until my cheeks ached, enduring the silent judgment of the Omega wives who viewed me, the Beta, as a temporary fixture until Scott found a woman truly worthy of his lineage.
Finally, the night ended.
We were transported to the massive Knight mansion, which was now officially our shared home. The house was enormous, cold, and quiet, designed more like a museum than a place for human warmth.
Scott took his coat off, tossed it onto a priceless antique chair, and spoke the only sentence of personal instruction he gave me all day.
“The master suite is upstairs. I expect you to be settled.”
“Yes, Scott,” I breathed, my heart starting to pound. This is it. The door is closed. The world is outside. Now, it is just us.
He walked past me, heading not toward the stairs, but toward a small, dimly lit study off the main hall.
“I have a few final things to review for tomorrow's market opening. Don't wait up.”
He disappeared into the study and closed the heavy door with a decisive thud.
I stood alone in the vast, echoing marble hall, my beautiful lace gown pooling around my feet. It was past midnight. It was our wedding night.
The ecstatic euphoria that had sustained me for three weeks began to fissure. I climbed the grand staircase alone, entered the master suite alone, and undressed in the silence. I put on a silk nightgown the kind of expensive, delicate fabric I had bought specifically to impress him.
I waited on the edge of the enormous, cold bed. I told myself he would finish his business quickly. He would come. He would finally acknowledge me.
The hours ticked by. One a.m. Two a.m. The moon was high, casting long, stark shadows across the empty room.
I finally fell asleep, still sitting upright on the edge of the bed, the silk nightgown cold against my skin.
He never came.
- Writer
