Baked Into Marriage

ChapterTwo:TheNine-LineText

By the time the officiant pronounced them husband and wife, Raya’s heart pounded so loudly she barely heard anything else. The ring was heavy on her finger. Jack’s hand on her lower back as they turned to face the empty aisle sent shivers up her spine.

“Give me your phone," he said, his tone calm but leaving no room for questions.

Raya paused for a second before handing it over in the same way that a student would bring in a late assignment: carefully, almost reluctantly. He didn’t say a word as he entered his number and called his phone, watching the screen until it lit up in his hand.

"Now I have yours too," he said, matter-of-factly, before passing it back.

She took it quietly and slid it into the pocket of her dress, her fingers brushing the fabric like she needed the grounding.

“We're... married," she said, the words catching in her throat like she was still trying to wrap her head around them.

“Just business,” Jack reminded her. His eyes looked away from her.

“I'm aware of that,” Raya rolled her eyes.

“Do reporters follow you everywhere?” Raya asked, narrowing her eyes. “One literally snapped a picture of us while we were signing the papers.”

Jack didn’t look up from his phone as they walked out. “Was that a real question or just you stating the obvious?”

She folded her arms. “So, that’s a yes?”

“That’s a rhetorical question,” he said dryly.

“Start getting used to it, Raya. I'm sure there are tens of them outside this courthouse,” he said, his eyes lingering a little too long.

The sudden buzz from Raya’s phone jolted him out of his intense stare, which made her uncomfortable. It was a message—the kind that sent her stomach into a slow, sick twist. Just one name on the screen, but it dragged her straight back to one of the worst days of her life.

From Alex?

“I made a mistake.”

She stopped walking.

***********

Three days before what was supposed to be the happiest day of Raya’s life came crashing with a single text message.

She had just left the bridal boutique with her wedding gown securely tucked inside a chic white garment bag that she put over her shoulder. She looked radiant.

“How lucky your fiancè must be,” the salesperson had gushed to her.

Raya returned the smile, her chest glimmering with silent delight. In just seventy-two hours, she’d be Mrs. Alexander Jones. As she walked to her apartment, her fingers brushed the tip of her long, dark brown hair—smiling sheepishly, her thoughts already drifting to vows, roses, and honeymoon beaches.

She stood before her full-length mirror, admiring her wedding dress, when her phone buzzed on the edge of the dresser.

“That must be Sandy hyping me up,” Raya said in total excitement.

Smiling, she reached out for her phone. Her smile vanished as she read the text.

I'm sorry, Raya. I can't do this. Don't call.

Just nine words. No explanation. No warning. Just a text that shattered two years of love, planning, and what she thought was a shared future.

Raya collapsed on the floor, her veil still in her hand, the wedding dress crumpling around her like a sad love letter never mailed. She didn’t cry. Not right away. She reread the message over and over again, trying to make it say something else. Anything else.

“No.” That was all she said.

Her breath caught in her throat, panic rising like acid. Tears welled in her eyes. She called him once. Twice. Thrice. Straight to voicemail. She sent messages. Voice notes. Video calls. His apartment was empty that evening. Her supposed husband was gone.

That night, Sandy came to help with the wedding preparations when she saw Raya lying helplessly on the floor in a pool of tears. She showed up with wine, pizza, and the world’s most-watched romcoms.

“Raya!” she exclaimed.

She handed her phone to Sandy, her hands trembling. Sandy read the message, and tears welled up in her eyes. Without a word, she wrapped Raya in a tight, protective hug and cried along with her.

“You’re allowed to grieve,” she whispered, holding Raya like a mother would a child. “But you’re not allowed to think this was your fault. He's a fool for losing you.”

Tears again and now, mascara-stained cheeks.

As her crushed mind was spiraling to a thousand things to undo—canceling the wedding, refunding the guests, discarding the flowers, and donating the cake to a homeless shelter—a knock came in.

“Alex?!” She broke the hug, and her face lit up for a few seconds. Immediately, she looked disappointed when she was handed a cream envelope.

A letter arrived in a cream envelope, thick and formal. A real handwritten letter from her late Uncle Gary. It had been sent by his lawyer. It read:

My dear Raya,

If you are reading this, I am no longer here to tease your baking abilities or sneak bites of cake while you are not looking. But know this: I've always been proud of the lady you've turned into. I’ve left you a small bakery trust, sweetheart—it is small, but I'm sure you'll make something out of it.

There’s just one little condition. I know you, and I’m guessing you’re still unmarried. And if by some miracle you are married, well then—congratulations! You can go ahead and claim the inheritance right away.

But if not, here’s the deal: You must be married within two months of receiving this letter. Not just on paper—it has to be a legal marriage, and it must last at least two months.

It’s a bit unorthodox, I know. But let’s just say I had my reasons, and deep down, I think you’ll understand them someday. I trust you’ll make the right choice.

With all my love,

Uncle Gary.

She knew her Uncle loved her as much as he loved Ben and Jodi, but it felt like a cruel joke. Was fate playing her? She hasn’t even started to process the wreckage of her engagement. How could she think about another marriage, let alone one rushed and contractual?

Wiping her tears with her left hand, the other shook as she read the letter again, bearing in mind the ticking clock.

“Let’s begin a husband search. Take your mind off Alex,” Sandy muttered. “I'm sure Uncle Gary protected you from Ben and Jodi.”

“Sandy—”

Raya’s mind jolted back to the present, her melancholic flashback dissolving as Jack tapped her lightly with two perfectly groomed fingers—a subtle but firm pull back to reality.

“Something wrong?” Jack asked, looking unbothered.

Raya looked at the message again. Her face was pale.

The ex who broke her heart…could he have wanted her back?

“It's Alex, my ex-fiancè.”

Jack clenched his fists, and a slight hardness slipped into his expression.