My Good Husband

Chapter Three- The Engagement

I didn’t realize how loud silence could be until the entire house became a construction site for my engagement.

A week had just passed???

"I wondered"....

Every corner smelled like fresh flowers and cold metal from decorators dragging stands around. Someone downstairs was arguing about centerpieces. Another team was discussing lighting angles like they were prepping for a presidential inauguration. Meanwhile, I sat on my bed, staring at a dress that felt more expensive than my entire existence.

The funny part?

None of this felt like me.

My dad acted like this engagement was the most natural thing in the world, as if I’d spent my life manifesting “marry a multi billionaire with a face carved out of discipline and an agenda I don’t understand.”

The contract was already signed.

The date was set.

People were congratulating me on a marriage I hadn’t emotionally subscribed to.

I exhaled and lay back on my bed. The ceiling suddenly became the most interesting part of my life. I wasn’t scared, exactly — just floating. Like my life was moving and I was just tagging along because the story needed a main character.

There was a soft knock on my door before it cracked open.

“Please tell me you’re not dead,” Hannah’s voice drifted in.

I didn’t even turn. “Not yet. Give it time.”

She walked in like she owned the place, dropped her bag on my couch, and plopped onto the bed beside me. Her perfume carried mint and some kind of citrus, like she was trying to make the room feel less suffocating.

“They’re turning your house into a luxury circus.” She nudged my arm. “You good?”

“I’m very... aware,” I muttered.

“That sounds like a lie wrapped in productivity jargon.”

I finally glanced at her. “I’m coping.”

“Again, a lie.”

She stared at me until I sighed and shifted to sit up. She tucked her legs under herself, studying me like I was a complicated formula she wasn’t sure she liked.

“So…” she began, dragging the word out. “This marriage is actually real. Like, real real.”

“Hannah,” I groaned.

“What?” she lifted both hands. “You can’t expect me to walk in and pretend this is some normal Friday update. It’s not. You’re getting engaged tomorrow. To Kazimir. The man is basically a walking stock market.”

I rubbed my face. “Please don’t start.”

“I have to start,” she insisted. “Because nobody else seems to be asking the obvious questions.”

Her tone softened.

That’s when I knew she was shifting from friend-mode to best-friend-mode.

“Okay,” she said, “walk me through this again. You and Kazimir… don’t know each other.”

“Not really.”

“You’ve barely had conversations.”

“Pretty much.”

“And out of nowhere, he’s like ‘Sure, I’ll marry her.’ Just like that.”

I didn’t answer, which was an answer.

Hannah leaned closer. “Sera… don’t you think that’s weird?”

“Everything about my life is weird at this point,” I whispered.

She tapped her nails against her knee. “No, but seriously. What’s this guy’s motive? Why’s he so eager? This isn’t normal behavior for a man who runs an empire.”

“That’s the thing,” I muttered. “My dad trusts him.”

“Your dad also trusted that nutritionist who nearly put him on an all-liquid diet.”

I snorted, which was the first time I’d laughed in two days.

Hannah seized the moment. “Look, I’m not saying the guy is a villain. I’m just saying the optics are—”

“Hannah.”

“—suspicious.”

I stared down at my hands. “What am I even supposed to think? My dad says Kazimir is a good man. Responsible. Disciplined. And he’s… polite to me. That should be enough, right?”

“For a LinkedIn mentor, maybe.”

She nudged me again. “But for a husband?”

I didn’t answer because I genuinely didn’t know.

“If he’s been eyeing you,” she added quietly, “you’d know it.”

I scoffed. “Eyeing me? Hannah, no. We barely meet. And when we do, he looks at me like I’m a spreadsheet he’s trying to optimize.”

“That’s the problem,” she said. “Why did he accept so fast?”

My throat tightened.

“I don’t believe in love at first sight,” I finally said. “It’s fiction. And it’s messy. I don’t even think something like that happens in real life.”

Hannah shrugged. “Maybe not. But motives are real. Patterns are real. And this guy? He’s too rich to need anything from your dad. He has his own empire. So what’s the ROI here?”

She kept talking, but my mind drifted.

Her words burrowed inside me, settling into that quiet part of my brain that overthinks everything.

Exactly the part I’d been trying to shut off.

“What if he wants something?” she added softly. “Or what if he’s not who he seems?”

I inhaled — long, slow, not steady at all.

“I don’t know.”

She leaned her head on my shoulder, like she knew she’d pushed me far enough.

“We’re not assuming the worst,” she whispered. “We’re just… being aware.”

But the damage was already done.

Awareness had teeth.

And as the decorators downstairs continued building the perfect engagement backdrop, all I could think about was the question Hannah planted:

Why did Kazimir say yes so easily?

That question would haunt me all the way into tomorrow.

And tomorrow…

well.

Tomorrow would be the beginning of the rest of my chaos.

The morning of my engagement felt strangely quiet, as if the house was holding its breath with me.

I’d been awake since dawn, sitting in front of my vanity with my hair pinned up halfway, staring at my own reflection and trying to convince myself that everything was normal. My room was already cluttered with fabric, shoes, jewellery boxes that had been opened and abandoned, and the soft rustle of aunties moving around the corridor outside. Every few minutes someone knocked, asking if I needed anything, if I’d eaten, if the makeup artist should come now, if the stylist could begin steaming the dress. I kept saying “soon.” It was the only word I could get out without feeling like I was lying.

The scent of roses drifted in through my open window, my father had insisted on decorating the entire courtyard with fresh flowers. He’d been excited for weeks, practically glowing each time he mentioned Kazimir’s name, bragging about the alliance like it was a trophy he’d earned. I kept trying to mirror his joy, but it sat on me like an oversized coat.

The house kept growing louder. Cars pulled up in front one after another, doors slamming, voices rising, laughter spilling into the air. Visitors were already arriving even though it wasn’t time. I could hear my cousins downstairs yelling at each other about the colour of the ribbons, chairs scraping across the tiles, someone testing the microphone for the music. Everything moved too fast for a moment that felt like it should have been slow.

Hannah burst into my room without knocking, because she never knocked. She carried a plate of breakfast I had no appetite for.

“Your face looks like you’re going to your execution,” she announced, dropping the plate on my bed. “Please fix it before your father sees you. He’s practically hovering.”

“I’m fine,” I said, even though the lie felt thin.

Hannah gave me a long look, the kind that always made me feel like she could see the truth sitting behind my ribs. “You don’t have to be fine,” she replied quietly. “Just… breathe. Today is big. Too big, actually.”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have the right words.

A swell of laughter erupted from downstairs. The first wave of guests had entered the main hall. I could hear the clatter of heels, the rise and fall of greetings, the exaggerated compliments people only gave at ceremonies like this. My name floated through the noise more than once, always followed by whispers I couldn’t make out.

“Do you want to go down?” Hannah asked.

“In a minute.”

She sat beside me, adjusting a stray curl that had escaped my pins. “You know,” she said softly, “engagements like this… they aren’t normal. The scale, the people, the security outside… and then there’s him.”

Kazimir.

The name dropped into my stomach like a stone.

“I don’t know what to do with him,” I murmured. “He’s unpredictable.”

“And intense,” she added. “Sometimes too intense.”

I glanced at her reflection in the mirror. She wasn’t smiling. “You think something’s wrong?”

“I don’t think anything yet,” she said carefully. “I’m just saying… be aware. You’re marrying a man people whisper about. That’s not something you ignore.”

Before I could respond, there was a sudden loud call for me from downstairs, my father’s voice, full of excitement and impatience.

Hannah stood. “Showtime,” she breathed. “Let’s go before he storms up here.”

I rose slowly, smoothing the front of my half-worn dress, feeling the weight of the moment settle onto my shoulders. The noise in the house swelled again, the kind of loudness that made you feel tiny in the centre of it.

As we stepped into the hallway, visitors’ faces turned toward me... curious, expectant, assessing. Compliments floated my way. Perfumes mixed in the air. Cameras flashed from angles I wasn’t prepared for.

And still, through all the movement, the greetings, the noise… Kazimir hadn’t arrived yet.

Somehow that made my heartbeat louder.

Kazimir still hadn’t arrived, and the hall seemed to notice it as much as I did. Every time the front doors opened, a few heads turned, expecting him. Then the realization would settle — just another guest, just another bouquet being carried in, just another unnecessarily loud auntie entering like she owned the place.

My father was everywhere at once, greeting people, laughing too hard, adjusting decorations that didn’t need adjusting. Each time he looked up at me, his expression shifted into one of those proud smiles that made my throat tighten.

“Sweetheart, you look beautiful,” he said for the fifth time that morning, and I smiled because it was easier than explaining the unease crawling under my skin.

Hannah stayed glued to my side, responding to greetings on my behalf whenever I froze. She was practically filtering the crowd—blocking certain conversations, redirecting others, giving tight smiles to women who were already comparing their children to me like it was a competition.

The hall kept filling. Soft music threaded through the air. The chandeliers flickered with gold light. A few business partners of my father approached me with the usual praises:

“So elegant.” “Your fiancé is a lucky man.” “This alliance will open many doors.”

I nodded to everything, even when the words bounced off me without meaning. I felt like a painting people had come to observe — pretty, unmoving, pretending not to c***k.

Then the atmosphere shifted.

Not loudly.

Not dramatically.

But silently, like someone had lowered the temperature of the room by a single degree.

The heavy doors at the entrance slid open.

And Kazimir walked in.

He didn’t bring anyone with him. Not a cousin, not a friend, not a best man, not even a driver hovering behind him. He arrived exactly the way he existed — alone, detached, and wholly self-contained.

His presence pulled attention without trying. Conversations thinned out. A few guests subtly repositioned themselves, like they wanted to see him better but didn’t want to seem obvious.

He wore a deep charcoal suit, clean and sharp, and he carried himself with the kind of quiet confidence that made everyone else adjust their posture.

My heartbeat became unnervingly aware of itself.

His eyes scanned the room only once… and then landed on me.

No hesitation.

No polite wandering.

Like he came here only to find me.

I swallowed. My hand went cold. Hannah muttered under her breath, “Well. There he is.”

Kazimir walked toward me with slow, controlled steps. Not rushed. Not theatrical. Just steady, like he was entirely sure of where he was going and why.

When he finally stopped in front of me, he didn’t offer a smile. He didn’t touch me. He didn’t greet the guests fawning over him from behind.

He simply said, low enough for only me to hear:

“You’re shaking.”

I stiffened. “I’m not.”

His gaze dropped to my hands — traitors trembling against the fabric of my dress then rose back to my face with a quiet intensity that made me want to step back and step closer at the same time.

“You don’t need to pretend with me,” he murmured.

The music swelled again, almost drowning him out.

Almost.

Before I could respond, my father approached with over-the-top enthusiasm, clapping Kazimir on the shoulder.

“You’re finally here! We were waiting!”

Kazimir’s expression didn’t change. “Traffic,” he lied effortlessly — his voice smooth, unbothered, not apologetic in the slightest.

My father launched into a stream of praises and small talk, but Kazimir wasn’t listening. His attention stayed on me — steady, unreadable.

I felt like I was being studied.

Measured.

Understood too deeply.

Hannah nudged me when she noticed I’d forgotten to breathe.

The ceremony wasn’t even starting yet.

And somehow, it already felt like the ground beneath my feet was shifting.