Chapter 2: The Night We Became Strangers
837 Words
The room was too quiet.
Not the peaceful kind of quiet, but the kind that pressed against the ears, making every breath feel louder than it should. The wedding suite was decorated in soft gold and white, roses placed neatly on the table, candles flickering like they were unsure whether they should stay lit.
She stood near the window, fingers clenched tightly around the curtain.
Tonight was supposed to be special.
That was what everyone said.
But all she felt was fear.
Behind her, the door clicked open.
She didn’t turn around, but she knew it was him.
His footsteps were calm, unhurried. Confident. The kind of confidence that came from a man who had never needed to ask permission for anything in his life.
“You can take off the veil,” he said.
His voice was low, distant. Not unkind—just empty.
She swallowed and slowly reached up, removing the delicate fabric from her hair. When she turned around, their eyes met for the first time that day without a crowd watching.
He looked exactly like he had at the ceremony.
Impeccable. Untouchable. Cold.
The man she had just married—her husband—stood there like a stranger she had been forced to trust.
“You don’t have to be nervous,” he added, loosening his tie.
The words sounded polite, almost rehearsed.
She let out a small, bitter smile.
“How could I not be?”
He paused.
For a brief moment, something flickered in his eyes. Surprise, perhaps. Or annoyance.
“This marriage,” he said, “is an arrangement. You knew that before you agreed.”
“Yes,” she replied softly. “I knew.”
What she didn’t say was that knowing didn’t make it any easier.
He took off his jacket and placed it carefully on the chair, as if tonight were just another business meeting. Every movement was controlled, distant. He kept his space, never stepping too close.
It should have made her feel relieved.
Instead, it hurt.
“You can sleep on the bed,” he said, gesturing toward it. “I’ll take the couch.”
She looked at him in disbelief.
“That’s it?”
His brows furrowed slightly. “Is that a problem?”
“No,” she said quickly. “I just… thought…”
“That you’d be doing your duty tonight?” His tone sharpened, just a little.
Her face burned. “I didn’t say that.”
“But you thought it.” He met her gaze steadily. “Don’t worry. I’m not interested in forcing anything.”
The word forcing hung heavily between them.
She hugged her arms around herself. “Then why did you marry me?”
Silence.
For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t answer.
“Because I needed to,” he said finally.
Not because I wanted to.
Not because I chose you.
Just needed.
Her heart sank.
“I won’t touch you,” he continued. “As long as you remember your place and don’t cross boundaries.”
“And what is my place?” she asked quietly.
He looked at her, truly looked this time, as if evaluating her for the first time.
“My wife,” he said. “In name.”
That hurt more than she expected.
She nodded slowly, forcing herself not to cry. “Understood.”
She walked to the bed and sat down, carefully smoothing her dress. The weight of the day crashed down on her all at once—smiles, congratulations, promises whispered by people who didn’t know the truth.
Behind her, she heard him lie down on the couch.
The distance between them was only a few steps.
But it felt like miles.
The lights were turned off, leaving the room dim and unfamiliar.
She lay on her side, back facing him, eyes wide open. Sleep refused to come.
“Do you regret it?” she asked suddenly.
He didn’t answer right away.
“No,” he said. “Do you?”
She hesitated.
“Yes.”
His breath stilled.
“I regret believing this marriage could be something else,” she continued, voice barely above a whisper. “I know it’s a contract. But I’m still human.”
He sat up.
She felt the shift in the air, the tension thickening.
“You shouldn’t expect feelings from me,” he said. “That would be a mistake.”
“Then what should I expect?” she asked.
“Respect,” he replied. “And silence.”
Tears slipped down her temple, soaking into the pillow. She closed her eyes tightly, ashamed of her weakness.
“I’ll try,” she said.
The couch creaked as he lay back down.
“Get some sleep,” he said. “Tomorrow, we start acting like a real couple in front of everyone else.”
Acting.
That was all this was.
She turned her face toward the wall, her chest aching.
Tonight, she had gained a husband.
And lost the right to hope.
- Writer
