I MARRIED MY ENEMY FOR REVENGE

The ring between us

I barely slept that night.

Every time I closed my eyes, his voice came back again.

“The person who hurt you the most that day… wasn’t me.”

The words followed me everywhere, refusing to leave my head no matter how hard I tried to push them away.

And that irritated me more than anything.

Why should I even care?

Why should one sentence suddenly matter after years of bitterness, humiliation, pain, and anger?

This was the same man who had girls around him all the time back then. The same man who played with people’s feelings like it meant nothing. The same man who stood there while my heart broke into pieces.

So why was part of me still thinking about what he said?

It made no sense.

And I hated that.

“Avalan!”

My mother’s voice pulled me away from my thoughts before my bedroom door opened. She stepped inside, carrying different fabric samples and jewelry catalogs, looking far too excited for someone arranging her daughter’s marriage to a man she barely trusted.

“You’re not ready yet?” she asked, surprised.

I blinked slowly. “Ready for what?”

“For the engagement preparations.” She frowned lightly. “His family will be here soon.”

Right.

The engagement.

For a second, I completely forgot this was actually happening.

My chest stiffened immediately.

I forced myself out of bed while my mother moved around the room talking about decorations, guests, colors, and family expectations. Her words blended together into the background after a while because my thoughts were louder.

Why did he come back now?

And why did he suddenly sound like there was more to the story?

No.

I shook the thought away immediately.

That was exactly how people like him worked.

Confusion, Half truths, and Manipulation. Everything he said is a lie, all lies.

He had always known how to make people question themselves.

But not this time.

By afternoon, the house had turned chaotic.

Relatives moved around excitedly while voices filled every corner of the sitting room. Fabrics covered the sofas, jewelry boxes sat open on the table, and different family members argued over decorations like the wedding was happening tomorrow.

I sat quietly while one woman adjusted the sleeve of a dress against my arm.

“This color fits her perfectly.”

“No,” another disagreed immediately. “Gold would look richer.”

“The engagement should happen quickly,” someone else added. “People are already talking.”

I looked down instantly.

Of course, they were talking. They would always talk.

Situations like this were never really about the people getting married.

It was always about reputation.

Appearances.

Family image.

“Avalan, sit properly,” my aunt scolded lightly when I shifted uncomfortably.

I straightened without replying.

Everything about today felt exhausting.

Too loud and fake.

And somehow, in the middle of all that noise, I still noticed the exact moment he walked in.

I didn’t hear the door open.

I didn’t hear anyone call his name.

But my body reacted before my mind did.

The atmosphere shifted almost immediately.

And when I finally looked up,

his eyes were already on me.

The room suddenly felt smaller.

He stood beside his father near the entrance, calm and composed as relatives greeted him warmly.

Anyone looking at him would think he was perfect.

You would think him Respectful. Controlled and trustworthy.

I almost laughed.

If only they knew.

“Avalan, come and sit beside him.”

My aunt tapped the empty space beside him excitedly.

My stomach stiffened immediately.

I didn’t want to.

But refusing would create attention I wasn’t ready for.

So I stood slowly and walked over, painfully aware of every step I took. The moment I sat beside him, tension settled heavily between us.

We were close.

He was sitting too close.

I could smell his cologne faintly now, and the familiarity of it irritated me instantly because it dragged old memories back before I could stop them.

“You look tired.”

His voice was low enough that nobody else noticed.

I kept my eyes ahead. “And you sound concerned.”

A brief silence followed.

Then quietly, “Maybe I am.”

I turned sharply to look at him, searching his face for mockery or manipulation.

But his expression stayed calm.

That alone annoyed me more.

Before I could reply, his mother suddenly placed a small velvet box on the table with a smile.

“We finally picked the engagement ring.”

Excitement immediately filled the room.

Everyone leaned closer.

Everyone except me.

My chest stiffened as she opened the box carefully, revealing a beautiful ring resting against white satin.

And suddenly, reality hit me all over again.

This was real.

I was actually sitting beside the man who once pulled my world down… preparing to marry him while our families smiled around us like this was some perfect love story.

The irony made me sick.

“What do you think?” my mother asked softly.

“It’s nice,” I answered quietly.

Too quietly.

Because beside me, I felt his attention shift toward me immediately.

Watching and observing.

Like he noticed every tiny change in my voice.

Of course he did.

That irritated me, too.

“Put it on her,” one of my aunties said excitedly.

Before I could react properly, the ring was already in his hand.

The room suddenly felt too warm and small.

I kept my breathing steady as he turned toward me, reaching for my hand slowly.

The moment his fingers touched mine, my body reacted instantly.

And judging from the slight pause in his movement,

so did his.

I hated that.

I hated how years later, my body still remembered him before my mind could stop it.

His fingers wrapped around my hand gently as he slid the ring onto my finger.

The contact was brief.

But dangerous.

Memories rushed back too quickly.

The younger version of me who once wanted this.

Who once dreamed about him looking at her this way.

I almost pulled my hand back immediately.

Almost.

When the ring settled properly onto my finger, his thumb brushed lightly against my skin before he let go.

A small movement.

Maybe accidental.

But it was enough to make my chest stiffen painfully.

His eyes lifted to mine slowly.

And there it was again.

That look.

That unreadable look makes me feel like he was trying to say something without actually saying it.

“You don’t have to force yourself.”

His voice was quiet enough that only I could hear.

A bitter laugh escaped me before I could stop it.

“That’s interesting,” I murmured. “Coming from you.”

Something shifted across his face.

It was regret.

This time, I saw it clearly.

The noise around us slowly faded into the background while tension stretched tighter between us.

“You still think I wanted to hurt you,” he said quietly.

My throat stiffened instantly.

Because the worst part was,

I didn’t know why he was suddenly acting like this.

Why now?

Why after years?

And why should I believe a single word from someone who had lied so easily before?

Before I could respond, my cousin clapped excitedly from across the room.

“We should take engagement pictures!”

The room immediately burst into agreement.

“Yes! Stand closer together.”

“They look good already.”

“Wait, let her fix her hair first.”

Closer?

My chest hardened immediately.

I stood too quickly from the sofa. “I need water.”

Nobody stopped me.

Nobody except him.

The moment I turned away, his hand closed around my wrist.

Not hard.

But firm enough to stop me completely.

The room around us continued moving, relatives talking, laughing, discussing decorations, but for me, everything suddenly slowed.

I looked down at his hand around my wrist.

Then, slowly back at him.

And for the first time since all this started, his calm expression cracked slightly.

“Avalan.”

My name sounded different coming from him now.

It sounded tense, frustrated.

It's almost desperate.

“Stop looking at me like I’m your enemy.”

The words hit something sharp inside me immediately.

Enemy?

After everything he did?

A bitter smile nearly escaped my lips.

Slowly, I pulled my wrist free from his hand and stepped back before answering.

“You really don’t understand, do you?”

His brows hardened slightly.

“You destroyed every good thing I ever felt for you years ago.”

The room around us remained loud and cheerful, completely unaware of the tension building quietly between us.

“And now,” I continued, holding his gaze firmly, “you suddenly expect me to believe whatever story you want to tell?”

“Avalan”

“No.”

I cut him off immediately.

Because if he kept talking, a part of me feared I might actually listen.

And that was exactly what I couldn’t allow.

Not with him.

Never again.

“You don’t get to confuse me anymore,” I said quietly, my voice steadier now. “Not after what you did.”

Something shifted in his expression.

I wasn't sure if it was pain.

Or frustration.

At that moment, I honestly didn’t care which one it was.

Because this stopped being about love a long time ago.

Maybe once, years ago, I would have done anything for him.

But that girl no longer existed.

What stood before him now was someone built from years of pain, bitterness, anger, and taste to get back at him in a hard way.

Someone who remembered every moment she hated herself for loving him.

And if he thought marriage would erase any of that, then he clearly didn’t know me at all.

I held his gaze for one final second before stepping away from him completely.

But this time, my heartbeat wasn’t racing because of old feelings.

It was racing because, after years of pain,

I finally had the chance to hurt him back.