I do
974 Words
He was beautiful. He was perfect, like something that could only exist in imagination.
Sharply cut features. Dark hair, neatly combed back. Piercing eyes, neither warm nor cold—just unreadable.
No curiosity. No interest. No resentment.
As if I were nothing.
Nothing more than an obligation.
My stomach twisted.
The weight of my mother’s hairpin pressed against my skull. A reminder to to breathe.
I reached the altar.
My father released me.
And for the first time, I stood beside my husband-to-be.
The ceremony was about to begin.
I barely heard the words being spoken.
The ceremony was a blur of flickering candlelight, solemn vows, and the suffocating scent of roses thick in the air. My father stood beside me, rigid with pride, while the officiant’s voice droned on, binding me to a man I had only just met.
A man who was now my husband.
My pulse was a wild, unsteady thing beneath my skin. I had expected to feel dread, fear, even resignation. But not this. Not the way my breath kept catching, how my stomach twisted—not in revulsion, but something disturbingly close to anticipation.
What was wrong with me?
I stole a glance at him.
Drey Volkov.
He stood beside me, still as stone, exuding quiet power. His suit—black as the abyss itself—fit his tall frame with effortless precision. He looked nothing like the monstrous rumors that had swirled around him for years. No scars, no grotesque deformities. If anything, he was too perfect. Sharp cheekbones, a chiseled jaw, lips pressed into an unreadable line. But it was his eyes that held me captive—dark, assessing, completely devoid of warmth.
I should have been terrified of this man. Instead, my heart pounded so violently I had to remind myself to breathe.
He didn’t fidget. He didn’t shift. He stood like someone who had nothing to prove.
And yet—he was proving something.
To me.
To my father.
To everyone in the room.
He was power. He was control.
And he was mine now.
"I do."
The words left my lips before I could process them, sealing my fate.
Applause broke out, but it felt distant. Like I was floating outside of my own body, watching a girl who looked like me make a decision she could never take back.
A cold weight slipped onto my finger. Drey’s touch was fleeting, barely there, but it sent a shiver through me. My father was smiling, my stepmother looked pleased, and—
I turned just in time to catch my stepsisters' expressions.
Lilian and Irene.
They stood a few feet away, their gazes flickering between Drey and me, their mouths pressed into thin, angry lines.
No one had expected this. Not my father, not the guests, and certainly not my stepsisters, who had spent days sneering at my misfortune. But now? Their envious stares burned into me, and I knew exactly what they were thinking.
It should have been me.
And they weren’t the type to let jealousy die in silence.
Their opportunity came swiftly.
We were gathered in the grand hall, where chandeliers dripped golden light over tables adorned with fine crystal. I was still adjusting to the weight of my new reality when Lilian’s voice rang out, too loud.
“Oh, Alina,” she cooed, feigning sweetness. “It must be overwhelming to be married into such wealth. I do hope you don’t embarrass yourself tonight.”
Soft chuckles rippled through the crowd.
Irene joined in, a delicate sigh leaving her lips. “You know, she’s never been particularly graceful. I remember when she spilled wine all over Father’s documents—”
More laughter. My face burned.
They were trying to humiliate me. In front of my new family. In front of him.
I swallowed hard, willing myself not to react, but before I could speak, another voice sliced through the air.
“Then it’s good that grace isn’t a requirement for being my wife.”
Drey’s voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be.
The hall fell silent.
It was the way he said it. The way the very air seemed to constrict around him.
Lilian and Irene’s smirks vanished. Their bodies stiffened, faces paling.
Drey turned his head slightly, his gaze settling on them with quiet, razor-sharp disapproval.
Not anger. Not irritation.
Something colder.
Something final.
The kind of look that made people remember their place.
My stepsisters looked terrified.
Even my father stiffened, his breath hitching. He had spent his life controlling the people around him, bending them to his will. But standing there, under Drey Volkov’s gaze, he looked smaller.
Weaker.
Drey didn’t say another word. He didn’t need to. His gaze flickered back to me, unreadable, but the message was clear.
It didn’t matter what they said.
I was his now.
And no one else’s opinion mattered.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of whispered conversations and stolen glances. My father basked in his victory, while my stepmother worked to charm the Volkov elders. My stepsisters sulked in the shadows, cowed but not defeated.
But the biggest surprise came at the very end.
I had expected to leave with my husband. To be escorted to the Volkov estate and begin whatever life awaited me there.
Instead, as the last guests departed, Drey turned to me and spoke words that left me frozen.
“I will come for you when the time is right.”
He didn’t elaborate.
He simply turned, nodded once to my father, and left.
Left me standing there, still in my wedding dress, bound by vows to a man who had no intention of taking me with him.
A shiver curled down my spine.
For the first time since this nightmare began, I wasn’t sure whether I should be relieved…
Or terrified.
- Writer
