Trapped In a Loveless Mariage

Chapter 4

The word “valid!” echoed through the room, followed by applause and congratulations from the guests.

Nadira slowly lifted her face. A smile rested on her lips, but it did not reach her eyes. She glanced briefly at the man beside her—Alven Mahendra, the man who was now legally her husband.

Her husband, on paper.

But not in her heart.

Alven stared straight ahead, showing little expression. His face was calm, almost flat. Even from the way he had held Nadira’s hand during the marriage vow, it was clear—this was not about love.

This arranged marriage was merely a business agreement between the Mahendra and Halim families.

A union of two major companies for the sake of the same project.

And Nadira, the only daughter, had become the guarantee of that partnership.

Nadira knew.

Alven knew.

Both of them were simply players on the family stage, pretending to be happy in front of guests who came bearing prayers.

“It’s official now, Nadira.”

Alven’s voice was deep, baritone, yet flat. There was no softness in it, only the courtesy that had to be spoken.

Nadira smiled slightly and lowered her head. “Yes, Mas Alven. Thank you for… accepting this arrangement.”

Her words were gentle but meaningful.

For a moment, Alven turned toward her. Something flickered in his eyes—perhaps admiration for Nadira’s composure, or perhaps annoyance that she dared to speak with such calmness.

Guests cheered, photographers pressed their cameras, and soft music began to play.

Yet among the crowd, one gaze pierced deeper than the others.

Minthea.

The woman in the red dress sat in the middle row. Her hair was neatly styled, her eyes fixed straight toward the stage. Behind her sweet smile, there was a burning fire that even Nadira could feel from afar.

“Congratulations, Alven…” she murmured softly, almost unheard by anyone.

When the greeting session began, Minthea stood. Her steps were steady, her aura of confidence still the same as before. And when she stepped onto the stage, Nadira could smell the expensive perfume that had once been so familiar in their school corridors.

“Congratulations, Alven.”

Minthea’s voice was gentle. She extended her hand with a seductive smile.

Alven shook it, glancing briefly at her. “Thank you, Minthea.”

Nadira sat beside him, watching the scene without reaction. But inside her chest, a bitter feeling slowly dripped. She knew… that look was not ordinary.

It was the look of two people still tied to the past.

Then Minthea turned to her.

“Congratulations as well, Nadira. You’re very lucky. Not everyone gets a husband like Alven Mahendra.”

Her tone was smooth, but the poison was clear.

Nadira smiled faintly. “Ah, I didn’t expect it either. But sometimes God gives blessings to those who are patient, doesn’t He?”

A few people fell silent. Alven glanced at her, almost wanting to interrupt, but Nadira had already looked straight ahead again—elegant, as if nothing had happened.

Minthea chuckled softly. “That’s true. But I hope you two can be happy… even without love.”

The last sentence sounded like a whisper, but enough to make Nadira raise an eyebrow.

She stood and looked directly at Minthea.

“Happiness is a choice, Miss. Love can grow, but resentment?”

Nadira leaned slightly closer, smiling faintly. “That’s the hardest thing to disappear, isn’t it?”

Alven remained silent. Yet his fingers clenched on his thigh. He could feel the tension between the two women—and somehow, he felt… trapped.

Minthea walked away with a thin smile.

And for the first time since the ceremony, Alven truly looked at Nadira.

“Looks like you don’t like losing, do you?”

Nadira shifted her gaze toward him, the small smile on her lips unwavering.

“I just don’t like being underestimated, Mas. Especially in front of someone I once defeated.”

A long pause hung between them.

Then Alven gave a faint smile, cold but honest.

“Seems like this marriage won’t be peaceful.”

Nadira looked back at him.

“Peace is boring.”

And for the first time, their eyes met—not out of obligation, but out of curiosity.

Soft music flowed, cameras flashed, and smiles were maintained as if everyone were truly happy.

Yet beneath the crystal lights, two hearts remained silent for different reasons.

Nadira watched the guests coming forward to offer congratulations. Her hands felt cold, but she knew how to hide it—with a gentle smile and soft eyes. That was life’s most valuable lesson: to look strong even while the heart slowly cracked.

Beside her, Alven sat upright with a calm expression. But his chest felt tight. Since Minthea stood earlier and congratulated him, his thoughts had been in chaos. Her smile, her gaze, the way she looked at him… all felt like an old wound suddenly reopened.

I’m sorry, Thea, he whispered in his heart.

If only I could choose… the one sitting beside me now wouldn’t be her.

But the agreement had been signed. The family name had been spoken. Their relationship—once always hidden from the public because of their difference in status—was now truly buried beneath sacred vows that had never been born from love.

Alven took a long breath, trying to focus, but his eyes unconsciously searched several times for the woman in the red dress among the crowd. Each time their eyes almost met, his heart pounded. And each time he remembered Nadira beside him, that pounding turned into guilt.

The next guest came—Laura, Nadira’s best friend, who had been holding herself back from screaming out of excitement.

“Wow, seriously! You look stunning, Dir!” she said, hugging her friend tightly. Then she quickly whispered in Nadira’s ear, in her usual mischievous tone,

“Hey… your husband’s aura is no joke. Careful, tonight might cause a local earthquake.”

Nadira immediately pinched Laura’s wrist, holding back laughter as sudden embarrassment flushed her cheeks.

“Quiet, La! There are cameras,” she whispered back, still smiling.

Laura just laughed softly. “Sorry, but seriously, he’s the type whose glance alone can slice through feelings. You ready?”

Nadira lowered her head, covering part of her face with the back of her hand as if fixing her bangs, when in fact she only wanted to hide from the camera flashes and her friend’s teasing words. The photographer quickly captured the moment—as if Nadira were shyly glowing with happiness.

In reality, her heart was empty.

Alven glanced at her briefly—not because he was captivated, but because he was confused. How could this woman still smile while he himself was nearly running out of breath from the tightness in his chest?

As Laura stepped down from the stage, waving cheerfully, Nadira straightened her posture again. The smile was still there, but behind it was a sentence she never said aloud:

I know you don’t love me, Mas. But I’m not the kind of woman who will cry just because of that.

Meanwhile, on the other side, Alven swallowed quietly. He wanted to leave this room quickly—wanted to forget all the eyes staring at him, especially the pair of eyes he had once loved with all his heart.

But when he turned, his gaze fell on Nadira’s hands holding the bouquet on her lap.

Firm. Elegant. Yet… lonely.

And for a moment, something trembled inside him—not love, not pity—but a realization:

the woman sitting beside him might be far stronger than he was.