Married to my brother-in-law

2

I arrived at the wedding party, and the majestic Foster mansion gleamed with lights and laughter. Elegant guests, including business partners, entrepreneurs, and family friends, filled the spaces decorated with exquisite taste. But for me, the mansion was not just a place of celebration; since Julia’s death years ago, along with her baby, it had been a constant reminder of loss. Julia had been my best friend, my confidant during difficult times. Now, with her gone from my life and Alaska absent, I felt alone amidst the crowd.

I sought a moment of peace in the moonlit garden, feeling how the sadness took over me. Ryan, my brother, noticed my gesture and approached with a hand on my shoulder, concerned.

“How are you, Rubí?” he asked tenderly.

I sighed, feeling vulnerable in the midst of the opulence of the celebration.

“I’m trying to handle it, Ryan. Everything is so confusing… I can’t believe how quickly everything changed,” I murmured, watching the shadows dance under the night light.

Ryan looked at me understandingly, aware of what the marriage to Diego meant to me and how Dad’s sudden decision had altered everything.

“Dad always does what he thinks is best for him, no matter the consequences for us,” Ryan said, bitterness in his voice.

I nodded with a lump in my throat.

“Diego left, Ryan. He left with our sister without saying a word. I can’t understand it,” I confessed, tears welling up in my eyes.

I’ve always known Romina hates me. Since we were little, she’s always been jealous of me, but running away with my fiancé is too much. I don’t understand why she did it. She claimed she loved Michael and ran away with his brother.

Ryan hugged me tightly, as if he wanted to protect me from the pain.

“Romina will listen to me when they return, but you have to be strong, like you always have been,” Ryan said with determination.

I silently appreciated my brother’s constant support.

“Thank you, Ryan. You’re the only constant in the midst of all this,” I whispered, squeezing his hand with gratitude.

Ryan smiled at me sadly, wishing he could change the circumstances for me.

“Let’s go, let’s go back inside. We can’t avoid the party, but at least we can face it together,” he suggested, guiding me back into the bustle of the mansion.

I took a deep breath, determined to face whatever came with the strength my brother had reminded me I possessed.

I walked back with my brother, and at that moment, Michael approached me and guided me to the dance floor. We were both supposed to dance. He looked at me with intense coldness, as if he wanted to kill me. I didn’t understand why he wanted to marry me if he had hated me all my life.

Since I was a child, Michael had always treated me badly. He used to mock me for my weight since I was overweight as a child, and he always found ways to torment me. I didn’t understand why he had decided to become my husband.

The atmosphere at the party seemed to tense around us as we moved rigidly on the floor. Michael didn’t say a word as he led me firmly, his blue eyes gleaming with disdain that made me feel small and defenseless.

“Rubí,” Michael whispered, his voice low but full of authority.

I shuddered at his words, feeling a chill run down my spine. His tone was possessive and arrogant, as if marking his territory.

Michael tightened his grip on my waist slightly, his eyes locked on mine with an intensity that made me mentally recoil.

“You’ll understand soon, Rubí. This is inevitable,” he said in a tone that made it clear there would be no further discussion.

We finished the dance in uncomfortable silence, and as Michael guided me back to the table, I felt the weight of his presence like a stone on my shoulders. The night had just begun, but I already felt the weight of the decision I had just made.

The night continued, and he proudly introduced me to partners and friends. Some murmured about the change in fiancé, but he explained that love had no explanations.

I was terrified when the employees left, and one of the servants guided me to the bedroom. I was so scared of giving myself to a man, and even more to Michael, since it was rumored that he was cruel with his lovers.

I took off the dress and put on a robe. Then I headed to the bathroom, planning to lock myself in there until he fell asleep.

Michael entered the bathroom with fury and gently picked me up, carrying me to the bed where he carefully placed me.

“Let me go,” I said, feeling a mix of surprise and bewilderment.

“You’re my wife, Rubí,” Michael replied firmly. “You won’t do anything different from what you planned to do with Diego.”

My heart raced as I tried to understand what was happening. Michael’s words echoed in my mind, stirring a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts.

I watched as Michael, with a determined expression, began to remove his clothes. His tie fell to the floor, followed by his shirt, revealing a muscular torso and strong arms that contrasted with the tension in the atmosphere. I stood there, hugging myself, unable to hold back the tears. Painful memories of a turbulent past hit me suddenly, reminding me of that heartbreaking moment years ago when I faced the cruelty of a man who tried to hurt me when I was thirteen.

“Rubí, what’s wrong?” Michael asked with a concerned voice, breaking the tense silence that enveloped us.

“Nothing,” I replied with a faint voice, struggling to maintain composure as emotions overwhelmed me.

My mind was a whirlwind of fear and confusion as I dealt with the present and the past intertwining.

I noticed that his cold expression softened for a few seconds. He approached me and gently stroked my cheeks, stopping my tears.

“What’s going on? I won’t hurt you,” Michael said with a soft and understanding voice.

“I can’t,” I whispered with difficulty, feeling a lump in my throat. “I thought I could, but I can’t.”

“Can’t what?” he asked, looking at me with concern.

My emotions were piling up inside me, making me feel vulnerable and confused by the situation.

“When I was thirteen, my father drank and gambled with his friends every night. I was alone in my room, and a man entered. I screamed as loud as I could, but no one heard me.”

Michael stayed silent for a moment, processing my words. Then, with a firm but gentle voice, he asked:

“Did he hurt you, Rubí?”

I didn’t respond, I simply cried. I never told anyone, not my mother, not Ryan, not anyone. I don’t know what happened that night because I passed out when that man hit me.

“I know you wanted me to be a virgin,” I sobbed.

“I don’t give a damn if you’re a virgin or not. What I can’t stand is that someone forced you. Tell me right now who it was,” Michael said firmly, but filled with compassion.

“I don’t remember,” I replied, feeling a lump in my throat.

“Tell me, Rubí,” Michael insisted.

“I was too small, and I couldn’t see his face,” I finally responded, barely audible.