Bound by Vows and Secrets

The church was grand, draped in white. Guests whispered in hushed tones, eyes gliding over the intricate, luxurious decorations, the perfect image of a high-society wedding. Yet, beneath the beauty of it all, there was a chill that clung to the air like a heavy fog. The bride and groom stood at the altar, their expressions far from what one would expect from a couple pledging their lives to one another. Alessandra Dela Vega, dressed in a luxurious white gown, stood rigid beside Lorenzo Almonte. Her face was impassive, her heart as cold as the diamond tiara resting on her head. The wedding ring on her finger felt more like a weight than a symbol of love. Across from her, Lorenzo, tall and composed in his black tuxedo, wore a mask of professionalism, his jaw tight, eyes distant. There were no vows exchanged, no promises of eternal love. The priest recited the traditional words, but it all felt like a distant echo. It was as if the universe itself knew this marriage was nothing but a contractual obligation. A deal made by their families. Lorenzo’s gaze briefly flickered to Alessandra, but it was not the gaze of a man in love. It was the gaze of a man fulfilling a promise—one he had made to her late brother, Gabriel. I’ll protect her, I’ll take care of her, no matter what. A promise that, at that moment, seemed more like a prison sentence than a noble vow. --- Present Day (Two Years Later) Alessandra's heels clicked sharply on the polished marble floor of the luxury mall as she strolled alongside her two best friends, Samantha Velasco and Isabelle Ramírez. They were deep in conversation, but Alessandra's mind was elsewhere—shifting between the pile of shopping bags in her hand and the nagging thought at the back of her mind that she had no idea where her husband was. "Alessandra, I swear, it's been, what—two years?" Isabelle raised an eyebrow, her voice filled with disbelief. "Two years and you still haven’t had a decent conversation with your husband." Alessandra’s lips curled into a smirk. "And why would I? We're strangers. I barely know the guy." Samantha chuckled beside her. "Is that so? But I mean, doesn't it get boring? A guy who's your husband, but you barely even share a meal together. Sounds so... tragic." Alessandra rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. It’s not tragic, it’s practical. This marriage was a business deal. Nothing more, nothing less." "But you do have a husband, Alessandra. A rich husband," Isabelle teased. "You could at least act like you’re... married." Alessandra huffed, her attention on the next store window as they passed by. "We’ve had dinners on our wedding monthsary, and that’s it. Let’s leave it at that." "Yikes," Isabelle muttered. "Well, you are the one who decided to go along with the arrangement. No one twisted your arm." Alessandra ignored her, her mind drifting to the man who was supposed to be her husband. Lorenzo Almonte. He had been nothing but distant, a ghost who occasionally appeared at the dinner table for their "anniversary" dinners but never spoke a word of affection or even interest. She was used to it by now. Their marriage was like a shadow—a mere formality, nothing more. As they entered another luxury boutique, Alessandra caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Beautiful. Cold. But still... empty. --- Lorenzo's POV Lorenzo sat at his desk, the dim light of his office illuminating the mountain of paperwork before him. His eyes scanned the documents, but his mind was elsewhere. It had been hours since he last spoke to Alessandra—he hadn’t even heard from her since breakfast. They hadn’t shared a word beyond the formalities. It was always like this, and part of him had accepted it. The quiet buzz of his phone interrupted his thoughts. It was Luis Mercado, his loyal assistant. "Sir," Luis's voice crackled through the speaker. "You still remember your anniversary dinner tonight, right?" Lorenzo sighed, rubbing his temples. "Yes, I remember." He’d never forgotten. The dinners were always the same—awkward, cold, like two strangers forced into the same space by the constraints of a contract. But the promise he’d made to Gabriel Dela Vega still lingered in his mind. He was the one who had to protect her now. He had to keep her safe. He closed the file in front of him and leaned back in his chair. His thoughts drifted back to the past—before the wedding, before the death of Gabriel. --- Flashback: Gabriel’s Request The day before graduation, the three of them—Lorenzo, Gabriel, and Damien—sat on the steps of the old school building, basking in the afternoon sun. It had been a joyous day, full of celebrations. But as they all prepared to move on to the next phase of their lives, Gabriel’s expression turned somber. "Promise me something, Lorenzo," Gabriel had said, his voice low, serious. Lorenzo looked at him, confused. "What is it?" "If something happens to me..." Gabriel paused, the words hanging in the air. "I want you to protect Alessandra. Take care of her. Don’t let anyone hurt her." Lorenzo’s heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean? Nothing’s going to happen to you." Gabriel's eyes were heavy with unspoken truths, his face drawn with an unusual intensity. "You never know. I’m asking you to promise me." "I promise," Lorenzo had replied, gripping Gabriel's hand in a firm shake. And it was then that Gabriel had looked at him one last time with a strange peace in his eyes. "Thank you." --- Present Day Lorenzo arrived at the restaurant where he and Alessandra were supposed to meet. He didn’t want to go, but the contract, the promise he’d made—it weighed heavily on his conscience. He had to follow through. He ordered a bottle of wine and sat at the table, waiting for her to arrive. He wasn’t sure if he was hoping she’d show up early or if he secretly preferred the silence that came with her absence. Alessandra arrived an hour later, her high heels clicking across the marble floor as she made her way to the table. The cool, indifferent look on her face mirrored his own. "Happy anniversary," he said, his voice flat. It was routine. They both knew it. Alessandra didn’t even spare him a glance. "Thanks." She took her seat, and the silence between them grew thicker. The waiter came and went, the food was served, but the words never came. Alessandra picked at her food, occasionally glancing at her phone. Lorenzo stared into his wine glass, the swirling liquid a reflection of his inner turmoil. This wasn’t how things were supposed to be. He had promised Gabriel. Yet here they were, trapped in a marriage neither of them wanted. Lorenzo couldn’t deny it—he had feelings for Alessandra, feelings that went far beyond the cold duty he had toward her. But she couldn’t see it. She wouldn’t. As they parted ways that night, Lorenzo watched her walk away, the silhouette of her figure fading into the distance. He had kept his promise to Gabriel. But no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he cared for her, Alessandra remained unreachable, like a distant star he could never touch. And in Alessandra’s mind, the man who was supposed to be her husband was nothing but a shadow—a stranger bound by a promise, nothing more.