The Bride No One Wanted

Chapter Two

Linda's POV

"Why are you standing there?" the man asked from his seat. His voice sounded amplified.

I couldn’t really see him. Shadows hid his face. His hands rested on the table, steady and still. His presence felt overwhelming, heavy, and unyielding. I had never seen him before. I would never know him. My boss had made the rules, and I followed them.

"Don't you know what you're here to do?"

I trembled at his question. I didn’t know how to respond. I tried to calm myself. I took a shaky breath and counted to ten. I wanted to pretend it was just another job, just another shift. But my gut told me otherwise. This wasn’t a shift.

"Strip," he commanded.

My knees shook so badly that I had to brace them with my hands. My throat felt dry, and my lungs tightened. Every instinct screamed for me to run. Years of neglect and survival shouted at me to stand up, scream, and fight.

But the pressure of money, bills, and survival pressed down harder than any courage I could summon.

I slowly started to remove my clothes. Tears streamed down my face, but he didn’t see.

Time dragged on. My mind raced with questions. What if this ruined me? What if he laughed, mocked me, or told someone who I was? My family? My boss? I had nowhere to hide. No one to protect me. The city felt like a cage, the restaurant like a prison, and now this dark, silent room felt suffocating. It was a cell I had been building for myself my entire life.

Then he moved.

He stood up and came closer. He leaned in and whispered, "Climb that bed."

I did so reluctantly.

I felt bitter about doing this against my will, especially since it was my first time.

The silence grew longer, and my thoughts became louder. I could only imagine the worst. The man’s hands, his body, his face. I didn’t know him, but I could feel him. His presence was heavy, magnetic, and terrifying. The room seemed to pulse around us.

My fingers fidgeted in my lap. My nails dug into my palms. I didn’t want to be here. I wanted to disappear.

He climbed on top of me, forcing his lips against mine. He kissed me roughly like it had been a while since he had. He fondled my bre*sts at the same time.

He kissed down from my neck to my bre*sts.

He yanked my hands off my bre*sts, which I had tried to cover. I felt deeply bitter.

He sucked on my nip*les as if his life depended on it.

I let out a soft moan before I even realized it. Suddenly, I felt wet.

I had no idea when he was already naked. And then, I let him consume me.

I stiffened while he did his thing, biting my lips to keep myself from crying. It was a very painful experience.

When he was finished, I stood up and went to the bathroom.

I washed myself while crying silently. My legs throbbed in pain.

I managed to put on my dress and left.

I walked out shaking, trembling, stomach twisting, and my heart pounding so hard that I thought it would explode.

The city lights blurred as I made my way down the street. Neon signs smeared together, bright and unreal. My stomach churned. I swallowed hard, fighting the nausea and the urge to stop walking altogether. I told myself it was finished.

It wasn’t.

Every step felt unsteady, like my body didn’t fully belong to me anymore. Sounds passed without meaning: cars, voices, footsteps too close for comfort. I kept my head down, moving on instinct alone, afraid that if I stopped, everything I was holding back would spill over.

I couldn’t remember his face.

No matter how hard I tried, it stayed out of reach. Blank. I didn’t know his name. I didn’t know what he looked like. What remained was his presence—the weight of it, the control, the way the room had felt smaller with him in it. That memory clung to me, quiet but unshakable.

He could be anyone.

That thought tightened something in my chest. Any stranger I passed could be him. Any shadow felt heavier than it should have. I knew then that this night wasn’t something I would leave behind easily.

By the time I reached my apartment, my hands were trembling. The key slipped once before the door finally opened. I stepped inside and locked it quickly, the sound too loud in the silence.

The room was small. Bare. Familiar.

My legs weakened. I leaned against the door, breath shallow, body aching in ways I wasn’t prepared for. There was a dull, persistent pain between my legs—unfamiliar, uncomfortable, and impossible to ignore. It grounded everything in a way I didn’t want. This had happened. I couldn’t pretend otherwise.

I slid down to the floor, pulling my knees close. My body shook, slow and uncontrollable. I felt emptied out, stripped down to something fragile and raw. For the first time in years, I didn’t know how to endure this.

I had no idea who I had been forced to give myself to.

No face to remember. No name to curse. He existed only as a presence now, something that had passed through my life and left its mark. And somehow, that made it worse.

Survival had always taken something from me. Time. Hope. Pieces of myself I never recovered. Tonight, it took more than I could measure. I had paid the price, but deep down, I knew it hadn’t ended here.

My life had shifted.

And the world I had fought just to survive in had become far more dangerous.