Home
1558 Words
~ingrid~
"Could the bride and groom smile for the picture, please?" the photographer asked.
My fingers were locked with a man I barely knew. I stood under the bright lights in a white wedding dress, staring straight at the camera lens, my expression frozen. I had always dreamed of a day like this, but not with a stranger. And yet… I felt relieved.
The contract we signed was simple. I would keep his illness a secret and we would stay married for two years—long enough to make the organ donation look completely legal. In exchange, he would wipe out my debt and take care of my brother’s future.
When the hospital results came back, confirming I was a perfect match, it almost felt like fate was playing some kind of cruel joke. Or maybe... a miracle.
This morning, as I watched my hand move across the marriage certificate, signing my name beside his, something stirred in my chest. Hope.
Ingrid weds Sebastian Hale. Ingrid Hale. The words looked unreal. Like they belonged to someone else’s life. Not mine.
"Smile," he murmured beside me, his voice low enough that only I could hear, I smiled and the camera light went off.
Hours later, the silence of Sebastian's car felt a world away from the bright flashes. The car rolled to a smooth stop, idling outside a set of massive iron gates.
My fingers tightened as I stared at the wedding ring on my hand. It was real. A diamond. I knew diamonds existed, of course… but I had never owned anything like this. Never even imagined I would.
"You don’t like it?" he asked.
I lifted my head. His eyes were already on me.
"No," I said quickly. "I love it." But my gaze drifted back to the ring. "Is this really okay?" I asked quietly.
He didn’t answer immediately. "Leave us for a few minutes," he said.
The driver nodded and stepped out, shutting the door.
"Ingrid."
Hearing my name in his voice for the first time, I looked up.
"I wouldn’t make you do anything you didn't want to," he said. "But we’ve come this far, so let’s make it work. For both of us."
His eyes held mine, almost reassuring me. I swallowed and nodded.
He tapped lightly on the glass, and the driver returned. The engine started again just as the gates began to open.
My breath caught. Beyond them stood a mansion that didn’t feel real. Tall glass windows stretched from floor to ceiling, reflecting the fading evening light. The building itself stood like something carved out of wealth and control—sharp lines, polished stone. You couldn't see the inside. It felt like Sebastian—guarded, unreadable, and out of reach.
Lights lined the long driveway, guiding us forward. The car moved past a perfectly trimmed lawn, fountains spilling water into marble basins.
I pressed my hand lightly against the window, my reflection staring back at me.
This wasn't my world. And yet... I was about to live in it.
****
It had been three days. And I hadn't seen Sebastian Hale since that night. I was shown to a room with no explanation, no conversation, just silence. I woke up the next morning to find a black card on the dining table, along with a short note saying it was for my expenses.
I spent most of my days sleeping. There was nothing else to do. The maid who came yesterday had looked surprised to see me, like I didn’t belong here.
It was night again. I sat alone in the massive living room, but there was something missing.
I was still lost in my thoughts when the door suddenly opened.
My heart jumped. "Sebastian—” I stood up, ready to greet him. But the words died in my throat.
It wasn’t him. A woman stood in the doorway. She wasn't just beautiful. Everything about her, from the way she stood to the way she looked at me, felt refined, the flawless drape of her silk blouse to the confident click of her heels on the hardwood. Her perfectly manicured brows drew together as her eyes swept over me.
“Who are you?” she asked. Her voice was soft. But there was something underneath it. Displeasure.
“I’m Ingrid,” I said. Then hesitated. "…Sebastian’s wife.”
The word tasted like a lie. This was the second time I had said it. The first had been to the maid.
Now this.
Her eyes widened. The disbelief on her face was instant. "Wife?” she repeated slowly. “What are you talking about?”
Then, her gaze drifted past my shoulder. I didn't have to turn around to know she was looking at the framed wedding photo resting on the wall. Her poised posture slipped for a second.
Without another word, she quickly reached into her bag and pulled out her phone. I didn’t even speak. Because if security had let her in… then she had been here before.
For thirty agonizing minutes, the only sound was the frantic tapping of her fingernails against her screen. Often she would glance at the frame then me.
When the door finally opened again, the air in the room shifted. This time it was him. Sebastian.
He stepped inside, his presence filling the room. His gaze landed on me first. A faint shadow of exhaustion bruised the skin under his eyes. I had been waiting for him to come home but he only rushed back because of her.
“What are you doing here, Lana?” he asked. His voice was calm but not relaxed. There was something off, like he was choosing his words carefully.
He moved past us and reached up, loosening his silk tie, then began unbuttoning his cuffs.
"You disappear for six months…” Lana’s voice rose, vibrating with a mix of anger and hurt, “and now what? You’re married?”
I didn’t need anyone to explain it to me. The history between them was heavy in the room.
Sebastian didn’t respond. It was my first time seeing him look unsettled.
He wouldn't meet her eyes, and I felt like an intruder. But I didn't know if leaving was the right thing to do. So I stayed. Watching.
“Give us a moment,” Sebastian said finally. His eyes shifted to me. It was a direct request.
I simply nodded, even though a part of me wanted to stay, to hear every word.
I stepped out and pulled the doors shut, waiting just outside in the echoing hallway. It didn't take long. The doors clicked open, and Lana walked out.
Her face was tight with anger, her jaw clenched. But she didn’t look at me. She just marched past, her heels clicking sharply toward the front entrance.
Every instinct I had told me to turn around and hide in my room instead I pushed the doors open and stepped back inside the living room.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
Sebastian was sitting on the edge of the couch. A cigarette rested between his fingers, the ash burning dangerously close to his skin. He didn't seem to notice. He crushed it out in the ashtray on the coffee table and immediately lit another.
His gaze drifted. To the wedding photo.
“Did you put that up?” he asked, his voice low.
My hand moved instinctively to my wrist, my fingers gripping tight.
“You don’t like it?” I asked quickly. “I can take it down...”
“It’s fine,” he said. His eyes shifted back to me. And I eased up a little.
I walked over and sat down beside him on the couch, leaving a safe distance between us.
“Can I ask who she is?” I asked.
“My ex-fiancée.” He answered.
The word landed heavily in the space between us. I didn’t know what to say to that. So I just nodded.
“You haven’t used it,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence. His gaze flicked to the black card still sitting on the coffee table right in front of us.
“I didn’t know how to,” I admitted. It didn't feel right to use it.
“Use it,” he said. “Get whatever you want.”
“I’d rather you buy things for me.” The words slipped out before I could stop them.
His eyes lifted to mine. Intensely focused.
“Do you feel comfortable here?” he asked, a slight rasp catching in his throat.
Comfortable?. And then, more words spilled out before I could think. “Can't you come home?”
He stilled completely. The smoke curled lazily from the cigarette in his hand.
“You want me here?” he asked. Something almost unguarded in his voice.
“You said we should make this work,” I said, an empty ache settling in my chest. “How can we do that if we don't even see each other?”
He just watched me. Like I was a puzzle he was trying to figure out.
“Fine,” he said finally. He leaned forward and crushed out the second cigarette. “I’ll come home.”
His eyes stayed locked on mine. And for a long moment, I couldn’t look away.
- Writer
