Chapter Three- The Wedding
1092 Words
One week. That was all it took for Amara’s life to transform into something she didn’t entirely understand.
She stood at the entrance of the hall, fingers trembling around the bouquet as she took in the rows of unfamiliar faces watching her every step. The crowd was far larger than she expected — rows of guests dressed in expensive suits and shimmering gowns, all whispering behind elegant fans and glistening ties. Wealth, class, prestige… all of it on full display.
Her father squeezed her hand gently, his eyes shining with a mix of pride and relief. Her family stood behind him, smiling widely. They had always hated Lucas — they never hid it — so seeing her marry Ethan felt like a miracle to them.
But Amara… she felt something tighten in her chest.
Guilt.
As she walked forward, her feet dragging slightly, she couldn’t stop the memories. She saw Lucas’s face the last time she visited him, the way he told her with quiet confidence to go through with the marriage. She remembered their silly plans — how their first dance would be like, the ridiculous color combinations he wanted for the wedding, the way he promised to lift her veil dramatically “like in the movies.”
And now here she was… walking toward another man.
I’m betraying him, she thought, even though Lucas himself had pushed her into this.
She lifted her gaze — and saw Ethan.
For a second, his eyes widened. His heart thumped hard in his chest, though he immediately blamed it on anxiety.
Of course, it’s anxiety, he told himself.
Anyone would be anxious to marry the fiancée of a criminal. It’s not because she looks… decent today. No.
He straightened, forcing a polite smile when Amara and her father reached the altar. Her father placed her hand in Ethan’s, nodded briefly, and stepped back.
Ethan leaned in, his voice low and dry.
“Dearest wife,” he whispered, a tone edged with annoyance, “You might want to smile. Otherwise, people will think I dragged you here.”
Amara didn’t miss a beat.
“Oh, of course, my dearest husband,” she replied sweetly — fake sweetness dripping like honey — then flashed the crowd a perfect bride's smile.
Ethan clenched his teeth so hard he almost cracked a molar.
The ceremony moved quickly. Vows exchanged, rings slipped on, cameras flashing.
Then the priest smiled warmly.
“You may now kiss the bride.”
Ethan turned, already opening his mouth to politely decline the kiss — but Amara didn’t give him the chance.
She kissed him. Slowly at first, then deeper, her lips moving with a confidence that stole his breath.
The room erupted in cheers.
Ethan stayed frozen, eyes wide, mind blank.
By the time she pulled away, she whispered inside her own head, I will make you fall hopelessly in love with me… and crumble while you do.
The rest of the reception blurred together — greetings, smiles, congratulations. Amara and Ethan moved from guest to guest, smiling for photos that felt painfully fake, not until Amara overheard a quiet whisper behind her.
A woman in a glittering blue gown leaned toward her friend and murmured,
“I’m sure it’s a loveless marriage. Probably arranged so she doesn’t completely crumble after Lucas.”
Her friend sighed dramatically.
“Poor thing. She looks like she’s just… surviving.”
Amara’s jaw tightened.
Surviving?
Oh, she would show them surviving.
With a bright, almost too-sweet smile, she lifted her voice loud enough for half the hall to hear — including the two women.
“Oh, my husband just said he can’t wait to go home!” she announced, beaming like a woman madly in love.
Ethan’s head jerked toward her so fast she thought he might sprain his neck.
She didn’t miss a beat. She turned to him, still smiling like a practiced actress.
“Right, dear?”
Ethan blinked, stunned, completely caught off guard. She pinched the inside of his arm discreetly, hard enough to make him inhale sharply.
“Ah– Yes,” he forced out, voice stiff. “Right.”
The ladies who had whispered earlier exchanged guilty looks before offering polite, impressed smiles, convinced.
An older woman beside them giggled knowingly.
“I understand. Wedding nights should be cherished.”
Which made Ethan nearly choke.
***
The Car Ride Home
Silence filled the car.
Amara stared out the window, Lucas’s face flashing in her mind again. A tear slipped out before she could stop it.
Ethan didn’t notice — he was too busy replaying the kiss in his head, telling himself it meant nothing.
Avoid her. That’s the plan. Avoid her completely.
***
Home
They stepped inside Ethan’s spacious house. Mrs. Penelope, an elderly maid with warm eyes and a soft voice, came forward.
“Happy married life, sir, ma’am.”
Ethan forced a nod.
“Nothing is ‘happy’ about this,” he muttered under his breath.
Amara smiled kindly back.
“Thank you, Mrs. Penelope.”
The maid continued, “Madam, your belongings have been moved into Mr. Ethan’s room.”
Amara’s heart jumped — but she masked it with a calm nod. Ethan, however, caught the flicker of surprise.
Once they entered the bedroom and closed the door, he spoke.
“You looked shocked. Worried about sharing a room?”
Amara scoffed lightly.
“Not at all.”
“Really?” Ethan stepped closer. “You didn’t seem shocked? After the way you shamelessly kissed me in front of everyone? Don’t you claim to love Lucas?”
The words cut.
But Amara didn’t let it show.
“Why should I care for a criminal, Mr. Ethan?” she replied, voice cool and sharp.
Then she turned her back to him, lifting her hair.
“Unzip me.”
He hesitated, fingers fumbling with her zipper. When it finally slid down, he dropped his hands quickly and left the room without another word.
***
Alone
Amara changed and went to the kitchen. Mrs. Penelope had stocked the fridge beautifully — fruits, pastries, bowls of soup, trays of seasoned chicken. Something about the warmth of the kitchen felt comforting.
She ate quietly, washed her plate, and returned to the living room.
Still no Ethan.
Her phone buzzed.
Ethan: Don’t wait. I’m not coming home tonight.
Amara stared at the message.
She exhaled a small, humorless laugh.
“A perfect wedding night,” she whispered.
She didn’t know why the sadness lingered.
But it did.
And it scared her just a little.
- Writer
