My smile fell a little. Really, at this point, what even were we? Husband and wife in a forced marriage? Was it even forced anymore if I was going shopping with said husband and his family? The thought hit me like a wall of bricks, and I felt myself go rigid.
I was forced to marry Dom and leave Ethan—the one I had sworn I loved. But did I really? Did I really love Ethan when I had already started fitting into this house and it hadn’t even been a full week?
I tried to laugh it off, but the guilt gnawed at me.
When we finally left the boutique, I was exhausted—not from the shopping, but from the weight of everything I was holding inside. I needed a breather, some space away from the growing tension. As we entered a fancy restaurant for lunch, I excused myself to the bathroom, grateful for
