daphne finding a place in world

It was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. A day every girl dreams of. A fresh beginning. A promise. But as I stood there in my white wedding gown, staring at the man who was about to become my husband, only one thought echoed in my heart: He’s never truly been mine. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to look at the priest standing before us. He smiled softly, as if he believed this union was built on love, not arrangements, not obligations, not secrets I was too afraid to uncover. My fingers trembled around the bridal bouquet. The hall was silent—too silent for a wedding. There were barely five guests. Five. And except for me, every one of them belonged to him. Mrs. Salvatore—my future mother-in-law—sat in the front row with a stiff expression, her lips pulled so tightly they might crack. Her daughter Hope rested beside her, arms folded, staring at me as if I had stolen something precious from her family. Two bodyguards stood like statues behind them. And the woman responsible for all this—Miranda Salvatore, his grandmother—sat with calm grace, her eyes filled with mysterious warmth. To her, I wasn’t Daphne. I was an answer, a choice, a solution. I didn’t know to what. But I agreed. I had nothing else in the world. I looked back at Mrs. Salvatore. Her face radiated annoyance—the kind that didn’t bother hiding itself. She didn’t want me here. She didn’t want this marriage. She didn’t want me. And when she caught me staring, her eyes narrowed before she turned away, as if even looking at me was an insult. Hope noticed and gave me a glare sharp enough to cut skin. Her eyes practically screamed: “Look away.” So I did. The priest’s voice brought me back. “Let us continue with the vows.” My heart thumped painfully as I looked up at my groom—Gabriel Salvatore. If beauty could be carved out of stone, it would look like him. Sharp jawline. A face sculpted with precision. Lips that hid every emotion. And eyes… stormy, unreadable, drowning in a darkness I couldn’t name. His face remained blank, stern, distant. But his eyes… They told a different story. Full of storms. Full of emotions bursting to escape. But I didn’t know if those storms were made of sadness or anger—or something scarier. I hoped they weren’t sadness. I didn’t want to be the reason behind anyone’s pain. I hated making people sad. I always tried to make others comfortable around me. But Gabriel wasn’t even looking at me as the priest turned to me with the vows. “Daphne Salvatore, do you take—” “I do,” I whispered. With every “I do,” I saw Gabriel’s body tense beside me, his jaw clenched tighter, his shoulders straining as if my words were chains binding him to a fate he never wanted. When the final vow ended, the priest smiled. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” My heart leaped into my throat. My palms went cold. Was he… was he actually going to kiss me? I turned towards him slowly, nervously, only to find him still staring straight ahead at the priest, not at me. Someone cleared their throat. I flinched. Gabriel didn’t even blink. Finally, after a long tense moment, he turned toward me. We stood face-to-face, his presence overwhelming, his body radiating heat. He leaned closer. My breath hitched. Okay Daphne, calm down. It’s just a kiss… a kiss you’ve never had. Deep breath. He was close enough that I could feel his warm breath brushing my lips. But something was wrong. His eyes… They weren’t on me. They were looking past my shoulder. I followed his gaze. Mrs. Salvatore. Standing stiff, hatred burning so bright in her eyes it felt like she wanted to tear me apart. I snapped my gaze back to Gabriel. His mask had cracked. His face was tense, hard, stiff with suppressed anger. And those stormy eyes… Burning. Burning with a fire I didn’t understand. Was he angry at me? At his mother? At this marriage? At fate? I didn’t know. His lips moved closer—but at the last moment, he shifted. His mouth hovered near my cheek. Close. So close it made my breath stutter. But he didn’t touch me. A few seconds passed. Then he pulled away. And reality hit me: He had only pretended to kiss me. Everyone saw what they wanted to see. But I knew the truth. And just like that— I became Mrs. Daphne Salvatore. --- Outside the Hall I stood beside my suitcase, my white gown dragging slightly on the floor, fresh flowers trembling in my hands. It felt like I was waiting for something… something to change… something to begin. Mrs. Salvatore approached with a bright, fake smile stretching across her face. “Congratulations on your new beginning,” she said warmly, pulling me into a hug. Her arms felt stiff, cold, as if she touched me only because she had to. When she pulled away, she stared at my face, expecting a response. I didn’t know what to say. So I just offered a faint smile. She responded with a smile so big it felt wrong. “I know you’re scared,” she said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “But trust me, this is the best decision of your life.” Her words were warm. Her eyes were not. “I… I don’t know,” I whispered. “Gabriel didn’t seem happy.” “You’re overthinking, dear.” She looked at her son, standing at a distance while talking coldly into his phone. “He behaves rudely now, but he’ll change. Just give him time.” I turned my gaze to Gabriel. Even from far away, he looked powerful, commanding, intimidating. And unfairly handsome. He didn’t look at me once. "Stop it, Daphne. He’s your husband. Respect him." "And stop thinking of him like that." A car approached, and we walked towards it. Mrs. Salvatore and Hope left in a sleek Lamborghini. Miranda had already flown back to London for a business appointment. And Gabriel and I sat in his BMW. Actually— he sat silently, staring out the window. And I sat next to him, unable to breathe properly. He didn’t glance at me even once. Not once. --- Later… A sudden jerk woke me. For a moment, I didn’t know where I was. Then reality crashed in. I was in my husband’s car. Because today… I got married. But— The passenger seat beside me was empty. Gabriel was gone. Fear wrapped around my chest. Even though I barely knew him… Even though we didn’t talk… Even though he didn’t want me… I still expected him to be there. He was supposed to protect me, right? Isn’t that what husbands do? I looked outside. Darkness. Only the streetlights lit the silence. My heart pounded. Then I heard footsteps approaching. Slow. Heavy. I froze. Someone stood right beside the door. My breath hitched— The door opened— And I almost screamed. “Miss,” the driver said calmly. “We’re home.” Home. He gestured for me to step out. I hesitated, but I had no choice. Cold wind slapped my skin as I stepped out, goosebumps rising instantly. My sweater was in the suitcase… The suitcase in the trunk… I looked up at the grand iron gate. In golden letters: SALVATORE MANSION Someone stepped out from inside the gates. Gabriel. He wasn’t in his wedding suit anymore. He wore a white polo and jeans—simple, casual, making him look dangerously handsome. Like a man who wasn’t affected by anything. Not even marriage. His eyes met mine briefly before shifting to my wedding gown. Expression unreadable. Without a word, he got into another car. The driver closed the door behind him. And he drove away. Just like that. Leaving me standing alone on my wedding night. The maids arrived and led me into a small golf cart. I thought they were taking me to the mansion. But the cart turned. Away from the main doors. Behind the mansion, toward a smaller building. A maid opened the door. Inside was a dusty, old room. Small. Dark. Cold. I blinked in confusion. “This… this isn’t the mansion.” One maid placed my bags down. “Mrs. Jennifer Salvatore instructed us to bring you here,” she said. “If you have questions, ask her.” “No… no, it’s fine. Thank you.” They left. The moment the door closed— My knees gave out. And I cried. Every tear I had buried for years poured out. Because tonight I wasn’t a bride. I wasn’t a wife. I wasn’t a daughter. I was just an unwanted girl… Thrown into a marriage… Into a family… Where love had no place for me.