Arranged Marriage To Another Juliet (GxG)—[ENGLISH VERSION]

Chapter 11

After a few minutes, boredom started to creep in. Veronica seemed busy with her own things, flipping through her book and humming softly, not paying any attention to me. Was she avoiding me? I couldn’t tell if it was because of what I’d said earlier… or if she just genuinely didn’t care. The uncertainty gnawed at me, and with a sigh, I decided to step outside for a bit, hoping the fresh air might clear my head.

The morning breeze was cool and crisp, and for a moment, it felt nice to be alone. Sighing, I grabbed my phone. Selfie time, I thought. Maybe if I focused on my pictures, I could distract myself from the weird tension. I tried to get the perfect angle, but it was hard to fit my full body into the shot—such a wasted opportunity for my sexy figure.

“Let me take your picture,” he said. I froze. Damn, he was handsome.

“Ready?” He snapped me out of my daydream, so I posed.

“Thank you,” I said sincerely.

He held out his hand, a cheeky grin on his face. “I’m Yaul. Don’t let me steal your phone too often, okay?”

I raised an eyebrow but shook his hand anyway. “Zyhra. And I’ll try not to let you.”

“Zyhra… nice. Rolls off the tongue,” he said, smirking.

“Thanks… I guess,” I muttered, feeling my cheeks warm.

“Think I could get a selfie with you? You know, to remember the moment I almost kidnapped your phone,” he teased.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Fine. But don’t make it weird,” I warned, handing him the phone.

We walked around the Highland area, sightseeing. The view of Taal Volcano was breathtaking, and the sunset was perfect. I enjoyed his company—he was a joker, and I laughed at all his stories. I learned he’d only been in the Philippines for two years. He grew up in Canada but was purely Filipino. Thankfully, he spoke Tagalog. He was alone at the resort, lucky to have found me.

“Yaul, I need to go,” I said, realizing I wasn’t alone.

“Let’s have dinner first,” he insisted.

“Well, the thing is—” What could I say? I’m with my wife? He might think I’m a lesbian.

“My treat,” he said, taking my hand. Why did he have to be so annoyingly handsome? I wanted to pull away, but I couldn’t. There was something about the confidence in his grip, the warmth of his hand, that made it impossible to refuse.

He didn’t let go until we reached a nearby restaurant, the city streets flashing by in the car. Thankfully, he had a car—otherwise, I’d probably have walked away out of stubbornness.

He first suggested a seafood place, and I nearly groaned. “I can’t… I’m allergic to most seafood,” I said, wincing at the thought of explaining all the foods I had to avoid.

“Ah, okay,” he replied quickly, undeterred. “Japanese it is, then.”

I had to admit, it was thoughtful of him. And despite myself, I felt a tiny spark of excitement. Maybe this wouldn’t be as awkward as I’d expected…

We took endless selfies. My stomach almost dropped when he suddenly confessed:

“This might sound rushed,” he said, scratching the back of his neck, “but I like you, Zyhra. I’d like to court you… if that’s okay.”

I didn’t know what to say. We had only just met, and now… a confession.

“You’re probably just hungry. Here, eat this,” I said.

“I’m serious, Zyhra,” he said, still staring at me.

“You didn’t even ask if I''m in a relationship… or if I’m married.”

“If you already had someone, they should be with you,” he said, his tone half teasing, half sincere. “I just hope your phone rang earlier… I hope you didn’t agree to dinner with me.”

He had a point. I did. But how could I explain? How could I tell him that this marriage—this whole mess—wasn’t real? That on paper I was someone else’s wife, but here I was, sitting across from him, feeling something I wasn’t supposed to?

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. Words failed me, as they often did when Yaul looked at me like that.

“Ah… forget it. There are so many people around, Yaul,” I said, forcing a light tone, as if brushing it off were that easy.

But inside, my thoughts were a mess. Why didn’t I just agree? Why was I acting like I didn’t have a choice? It was only an arranged marriage—on paper, nothing more. No love, no promises, no expectations. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.

Still, something held me back. A quiet voice reminding me that even if the marriage was forced, even if it wasn’t real in my heart, I was already standing on dangerous ground. And for the first time, I wasn’t sure whether I was afraid of hurting someone else… or of admitting what I truly wanted.

Before I could answer, a shadow fell across the table. I looked up—and there was Veronica. She stood there quietly, close enough that I could feel her presence without her touching me. Her face was unreadable, a perfect poker face. I couldn’t tell if she was angry, jealous, or completely indifferent.

“Do you mind if I join?” she asked, her gaze locking onto mine, steady, unreadable, but impossible to escape.

“Ah—uh—” My thoughts tangled, words failing me completely.

She exhaled softly, a small smile curving her lips, though it never reached her eyes. “It’s fine,” she said quietly. “Finish your dinner date. I’ll wait outside.”

And just like that, she turned and walked away, leaving behind the faintest heaviness in the air—and a guilt I hadn’t expected to feel.

“Hmm, Zyhra?” Yaul held my hands over the table. “I’ll wait for your answer. Can I have your number?”

“Ah, well—” I started, then stopped. My thoughts scrambled, and suddenly I couldn’t find a single word that made sense.

“Fine,” he said with a grin, holding out his hand. “But you have to give it to me. Your friend is already waiting outside anyway.”

We stepped outside and immediately spotted Veronica leaning against her car. The streetlights cast long shadows over her face, making her expression hard to read, almost distant. I couldn’t tell if she was waiting patiently or barely holding something back.

“Yaul, thank you for today. I had fun. See you around?” I said. I didn’t wait for an answer and started walking, but he grabbed my hand and hugged me.

“I’ll text you. I’ll miss you,” he whispered, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead before turning away. It all happened so fast. We had only met today and the gesture felt strangely familiar, tugging at something deep inside me as I watched him leave.

After he left, Veronica got into the car. The ride back to the resort was silent, thankfully short, the quiet pressing against me like a weight. Then my phone vibrated. I glanced down—an unknown number. Veronica noticed, her brow furrowing slightly, but her face remained a perfect poker mask.

I hesitated for a moment… then opened it.

090652—Hi, this is Yaul. Save my number

I stared at it for a moment. Just a simple greeting… nothing more. I slipped the phone back into my pocket, trying not to overthink it. Veronica shifted beside me, still quietly watching, and I realized some things were more complicated than a simple text.

After parking, Veronica turned off the engine and got out. I followed, though I had no idea where she went, so I decided to shower first. When I came out, she was already lying on the bed, eyes closed, looking peaceful. Who said we were going to sleep together?

She was fully dressed, clearly had showered earlier. I wrapped myself in a towel and changed, trying not to think too much about the strange intimacy of sharing the same room.

The quiet felt heavy, and for a moment I just watched her from across the room, wondering how we had ended up here—married on paper, strangers in practice, yet somehow bound by circumstance.

I sat on the edge of the bed. I didn’t want to be too close, but there was no sofa. With a sigh, I lay down beside her. She was already asleep, breathing softly, unaware of me.

Her face, calm and gentle in the dim light, felt… familiar, as if I had always known her. The warmth of her presence seeped into the room, and for the first time, I wondered if this marriage. It is forced, awkward, and official only on paper.

I didn’t move. I just watched her sleep, memorizing the small, unguarded details: the way her hair fell across her cheek, the faint rise and fall of her chest, the quiet rhythm of her breathing. It was strangely comforting, and terrifying at the same time. Somewhere deep inside, a part of me recognized her.

Suddenly my phone vibrated—Yaul again.

Goodnight, he texted.

I’ll wait for your answer.

I stared at the screen, unsure whether to reply. Part of me wanted to ignore it entirely. After all, we had just met today and there was no reason for this drama.

Before I could decide, Veronica’s presence reminded me she wasn’t far behind. Her arms slid around my waist from behind, soft but firm. I froze, her skin pressing against mine as her warmth pressed in.

“Don’t even think about texting him,” she whispered in my ear, playful but serious.

I tensed. “V-Veronica…” I started, but she cut me off with a gentle shush.

“I’ll make sure you don’t do anything stupid with your thumbs,” she murmured, tightening her hold just enough to be felt. Her breath brushed against my neck, carrying a faint hint of strawberry and something uniquely hers.

I stayed still, trapped between wanting space and not wanting to upset her. Her closeness was… disarming.

My phone buzzed again. I ignored it, slipping it into my pocket. Veronica’s arms remained around me, and I realized I had no choice but to deal with her first—this mess was hers and mine, not some stranger’s.

For a moment, I simply let the quiet tension settle, the warmth of her body pressing against mine, wondering how the day had spun so strangely out of control.

I felt arms wrap around my waist. Veronica. I froze. A back hug. Her face was close to my neck. I could feel her breath, faintly scented with something sweet and warm. She held me tightly, pressing against me.

My phone vibrated again and still, it's Yaul.

I was about to reply when Veronica whispered, “Talk to him? You’ll just keep texting.” Frustrated, I swatted at her lightly.

“What did you say?” I exclaimed, hitting her with the pillow.

“Ouch,” she murmured, shielding herself.

“Don’t scare me!” I swatted again.

She grabbed the pillow—and my hand—her face was serious. She leaned closer. So close my body wanted to resist… but it didn’t.

Her lips hovered near mine, one inch away. My breathing hitched.

“I’m serious, Zyhra,” she whispered, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips.

“Oh really?” I teased back, though my heart was racing.

“Wanna try?”

“Get off me. Let go of my hands!” I protested, but she didn’t. She inched even closer and…

And kissed me. I closed my eyes instinctively. I didn’t know why I responded, but it was… overwhelming.

The kiss was soft, lingering on my lips, then trailing to my neck. “Ahh—” I moaned. Why? It felt incredible.

She pulled back and stood, her gaze sharp.

“Do you know this is our honeymoon?” Veronica’s voice was quiet but sharp, carrying the weight of frustration I couldn’t ignore.

“I’ve been holding back all day… and instead of being with me, you were outside… with that guy.” I froze, caught between guilt and embarrassment. My chest tightened, words failing me. She wasn’t yelling—just… hurt. And it hit me harder than anything anyone had ever said.

“I… I didn’t mean—” I started, but she cut me off with a look that silenced everything else.

For a moment, all I could do was watch her, noticing the small tremble in her fingers, the quiet vulnerability she usually hid. And in that instant, I realized it wasn’t just about the “guy” outside.

“Go to sleep. Early day tomorrow,” she added, lying down.

I didn’t know what to say. Should I speak? We were married… but not really. I wasn’t her real wife. I touched my lips, still tingling from her kiss.

Sleep wouldn’t come. My mind raced, too many thoughts. Tomorrow would be early, and I wanted to make it up to Veronica, but we weren’t really married. I didn’t feel anything… right? My head ached from overthinking, twisting every memory, every touch, every word into a mess I couldn’t untangle.

The room was quiet except for her soft breathing. It should’ve been comforting, but it only made me more restless. My phone buzzed again, and I ignored it, pressing my face into the pillow, trying to will my thoughts into silence.

But they wouldn’t stop. The day, the kiss, the laugh, the teasing, it all replayed like a loop. I couldn’t pause.

I exhaled sharply. “Just… sleep,” I muttered to myself, though my heart didn’t listen.

The night stretched on, heavy and still, and I realized one thing: tomorrow, whatever happens, would demand that I face all of this. And I wasn’t ready.