Anything You Want (English)

They say a woman's wedding day is supposed to be one of the happiest days of her life—a once-in-a-lifetime moment with the person she loves and dreams of spending forever with. And here stood Samantha, frozen at the entrance of the church, staring at the altar where a strikingly handsome man waited. Her heart pounded. I just realized—I’m marrying my first love. The thought sent waves of joy through her, yet fear crept in just as quickly. He looked breathtaking in his white tuxedo, but his expression was unreadable—like the weight of the heavens had crashed down upon him. He didn’t have to say a word. She could feel it—he didn’t want to be standing there. Why would anyone want to marry someone they despised? Of course, it wasn’t his choice. She knew he hated her, hated her family—especially since her grandfather was the reason for his family’s downfall. Threatened into marriage by her grandfather, he had no way out. Her grandfather wasn’t just some businessman—he was one of the most powerful tycoons in the country, feared and respected. But he wasn’t a cruel man. He had his reasons, and this time, it was out of pity. Because Samantha was dying. She was lucky to have made it this far in life. Her case was nothing short of a medical miracle. At six years old, she had survived a terrible accident—one that took her parents' lives. She suffered severe head trauma and fell into a coma for a year. The doctors had warned that her young body might not survive, but somehow, she did. Yet, when she woke up, she was a stranger to her own life. She had no memories—not of her parents, not even of her grandfather. People told her she was fortunate to have lost only her memories, but it never felt like luck. How could she mourn her parents when she couldn’t remember them? Not even their faces. Her grandfather had shown her pictures, but they were just images—empty and unfamiliar. Yes, she had survived. But the damage? It was irreparable. This could kill her. Samantha had spent a year in a coma. The doctors nearly declared her brain dead, but somehow, she remained responsive. She was lucky to have made it to twenty. And that was exactly why her grandfather insisted on this marriage—so that, in the final moments of her life, she could experience what it meant to truly live as a woman. But how? She was marrying a man who despised her family. A man who could very well despise her too. Selfish. That’s what she was being right now. She knew it. The doctors had given her months—no one could say when time would simply stop for her. That was why her grandfather gave her everything she wanted, showering her with all his attention. It was something her cousins and his other grandchildren resented. He had little time for them now; all of it was reserved for her. "How can she marry him? Why is he even going through with it?" The whispered words reached Samantha's ears as she made her way down the aisle. Her grip tightened around her bouquet, fingers digging into her grandfather’s arm. She knew he had heard it too. A gentle tap on her hand. A silent reassurance. "I’ll deal with them later," her grandfather murmured. Samantha let out a soft laugh. "Are you going to pressure their family?" "I won’t let anyone speak ill of you," he said firmly. "You have to stop doing that, Lolo. People will hate you," she sighed. "Doesn’t matter. Only my granddaughter is important," he said without hesitation. "They can call me a devil, and I wouldn’t care. You know you’re my whole world." She looked up at him—the man who had sacrificed everything for her. Her father had been his only son. And after that accident, his life had revolved solely around her. He had to rebuild everything from the ground up when she lost her memories. "Lolo, you should spend time with your brothers. Get close to your other grandchildren too. That way, when I am—" "We’re here." His words cut her off as he suddenly stopped. It took her a moment to realize they had reached the altar. She turned to look at him, heart pounding. She never finished her sentence. "I entrust her to you," the old man said, his voice steady as he extended his granddaughter’s hand toward the groom. "Like I have a choice," the man replied coldly, taking her hand without hesitation, yet showing no emotion. He stood stiffly, like a statue—unmoving, unfeeling. "Lolo, think about what I said," Samantha murmured. "Let’s worry about that later," her grandfather answered gently, his hand reaching up to cup her cheek before he stepped away, making his way to his seat. "Did your grandfather give you instructions on how to make my life even more miserable?" the groom muttered as he turned toward the altar. "Could be. What’s it to you?" Samantha shot back without looking at him. A faint smile flickered on the priest’s face before he gestured for them to step forward. "One year will pass by in the blink of an eye," the man muttered. She didn’t reply. He was right—one year. That was the contract. One year of marriage in exchange for her grandfather returning his family's company to him. But he had no idea. No clue that she had mere months left. He doesn’t need to know. She liked him, but that didn’t matter now. They weren’t marrying for love. This was a transaction, nothing more. Standing at the altar, Samantha’s gaze locked on the crucifix. She whispered a silent prayer. Please, tell him I’m sorry for causing him this pain. One day, I’ll apologize myself. I am truly sorry for what my family did to his. His life was ruined, and now he’s forced to marry someone he despises. I am selfish for allowing this. But just this once—just for a little while—let me have this. I’m not asking for much, only this one selfish wish. Even if it’s just for a short while. Let me be with him. Her fingers trembled as she glanced at him. He was her first love. She didn’t know exactly when it started—one day, she simply found herself watching him, admiring him from afar. He had been the most sought-after boy in university—smart, athletic, kind. Even the professors were impressed by him. But he never knew she existed. He was born into a powerful, well-respected family, destined to be the next business tycoon. Women adored him—how could they not? But unfortunately for them, he was already engaged. The campus king and queen. Everyone believed they’d marry right after graduation. And yet, here he was, standing at the altar with another woman. A woman he didn’t even love. "You may now kiss the bride," the priest announced. Samantha stiffened at the words, her gaze darting to the man beside her. Did I hear that right? She had been so caught up in the whirlwind of emotions that she hadn’t even considered this part of the ceremony. She swallowed hard as he reached up and slowly lifted her veil. "You’re blushing. What’s wrong? Don’t tell me this is your first kiss?" His lips curled into a faint smirk. "F-first kiss or not, it doesn’t matter," she stammered. "I see." He stepped forward, closing the distance between them. Instinctively, she tried to take a step back—but before she could move, his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her against him. The sudden motion made her bouquet press into his chest, her hands trapped between them. She could feel the steady rise and fall of his breath. "Remember this, little princess." His voice was low, cold. "This is your first kiss. A kiss with no love—from the person who despises you the most." And before she could react, his lips crashed against hers. Her eyes widened in shock. It was her first kiss—but it wasn’t anything like she had imagined. There was no warmth. No spark. Only raw, unfiltered resentment. Her fingers curled tightly around the fabric of her dress, her other hand gripping the bouquet with bruising force. The weight of reality sank in, and as much as she tried to hold it back, tears welled in her eyes. She pitied herself. But she couldn’t blame him. "If you cry like that, they might actually believe you’re in love with me," he muttered, stepping away. She lifted her gaze to meet his, her vision slightly blurred. "Look at them. They’re happy for you." He turned toward the guests—standing, cheering, clapping. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she wiped her tears and forced herself to turn to them.