Arranged Marriage; When love becomes duty, trust can become deadly.

CHAPTER 02

You’re definitely Nikolka, huh?” the elderly man asks between breaths as he steps closer.

“Yes, I am,” I nod, shaking his offered hand.

“You probably don’t know me—or maybe you do?” he adds. I set Anička down beside me and shake my head.

“I’m Hanych,” he says. The name knocks the smile right off my face.

“Oh,” is all I manage before my gaze slides to the boy sitting on my bed. Could that be… Marek? He’s changed so much I almost don’t recognize him.

“Hi, Niky. Do you remember me at all?” he asks, walking over.

“Sure. The last thing I remember is you breaking all my dolls—and me slapping you. Does that sound about right?” I say, half-smiling.

Marek bursts out laughing. “I’ll take that. And, well… about the dolls—here.” He pulls a small doll from a bag behind his back and hands it to me.

For a second, I can’t help laughing too, until tears sting my eyes.

“She’s beautiful,” Anička whispers in awe.

“Then she’s yours,” I say, handing the doll to her. She hugs it instantly and grins up at Marek.

“Thank you,” we both say at once.

“Perfect,” Mr. Hanych says, clapping his hands softly. “She remembers us a little—that’s what matters. Now, let’s get through the rest.”

“I’ll make coffee,” my mom says quickly, escaping to the kitchen. Mr. Hanych follows, insisting he’ll help. Suddenly, Marek and I are alone.

“Anička, we’ll do your homework later, okay? Go play outside for a bit.”

She’s gone before I finish, shouting something about finding Zuzka. The door clicks shut, and silence drops between us like a heavy curtain.

We exchange a glance—then both look away. The air feels thick, awkward. My fingers twist around the hem of my sleeve.

Thankfully, Mom’s voice cuts through from the doorway: “Coffee’s ready!”

In the kitchen, the atmosphere is tighter than before. Even the ticking clock sounds too loud. No one meets anyone’s eyes.

“So… we should discuss the wedding details,” Mr. Hanych says at last. His voice has a careful calm to it, almost mournful.

Mom nods, forcing a smile. “Yes, of course. A date?”

“It should be before your eighteenth birthday,” he says, turning to me. “When is that?”

“In a week,” I answer quietly.

“What about August second?” Marek offers. “You’ll be done with exams by then. But—if it doesn’t work, we can change it.”

“It’s fine,” I say. My voice sounds small, detached.

The adults nod, satisfied, moving briskly through practicalities—witnesses, announcements, arrangements. Their words blur together like background noise. When the talk turns to where we’ll live, Marek’s father suggests his apartment, close to town. Marek agrees easily; I only nod. Mom’s eyes glisten, but she stays silent.

“We’ll figure it out,” Marek says softly, turning to me. “After the wedding.”

“Thanks,” I murmur. It feels like the only safe word left to say.

The rest of their conversation washes over me. I just sit there, nodding when someone looks my way. Marek, calm and composed, keeps meeting my eyes—but I can’t tell what’s behind his steady gaze. Resignation? Kindness? Something else?

How can he be so calm? Is he just hiding it? Or… could he actually want this?

No. That’s impossible. Why would he want to marry me? He must have someone—he’s handsome, confident, nothing like the chubby blond boy I remember. Back then, he was spoiled and loud. Now… he’s taller, quieter. A man who thinks before he speaks.

And somehow, that unsettles me more than anything.