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“Let’s get through this together,” he suggests, his voice laced with sincerity.
“Let’s just do what we must,” I retort, refusing to let him see how vulnerable I truly am. I see a flicker of disappointment in his eyes, but he simply nods.
“Very well,” the priest continues. “Mikhail, Caterina, you have come together for the holy sacrament of matrimony. This union is sacred and should not be entered into lightly.”
The irony of his words does not escape me, and I struggle to suppress the bitter laughter threatening to escape my lips. I focus on maintaining my composure, my breathing slow and steady.
As the ceremony progresses, Mikhail’s fingers linger against mine, his thumb gently caressing my knuckles. The subtle intimacy of his touch catches me off guard. I tense, ready to pull away, but stop myself short. Father is watching. The whole world is watching, and I’m brave enough not to make an impulsive display of emotions.
At least, that’s what I tell myself to ignore the growing sense of comfort his touch brings.
I’m confused. I was supposed to hate the feel of him, so why does his touch make me feel so calm?
“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the priest declares, his voice ringing with finality. And just like that, my fate is sealed.
But we’re not done just yet.
The priest’s voice echoes through the lavish hall. “You may now kiss the bride.”
My stomach drops. This is the moment I’ve dreaded, having to feign intimacy with Mikhail in front of prying eyes.
I take a small step back, averting my face slightly. But I feel the heat of my father’s glare blazing into me. Clenching myfists, I slowly turn toward Mikhail. His piercing hazel eyes search mine, glinting with unspoken emotion. He leans in, those full lips parted…
Inches from my mouth, he pauses. I know he senses my tension, my anger simmering beneath the surface. “Caterina…” he begins softly.
I cut him off with a subtle shake of my head, my body rigid. We stay frozen in this awkward stance, the lingering kiss postponed. The guests shift uneasily as hushed whispers spread.
After an agonizing moment, I steel myself and lean closer, grazing his lips with my own. Suddenly, I yearn to reach over and graze his cheek with my hand, pull him closer. The fear of longing overwhelms me and I pull back instantly, giving him barely a kiss at all.
What is wrong with me? I’m not supposed to want him!
Mikhail’s brows knit together, his jaw tightening. I know he expected more from me, some sign I still care. But I refuse to indulge his wishes after the way he left me.
With quiet focus, I take his arm and face forward, his gaze still searching my averted face. But I keep my eyes fixed ahead, my expression an impassive mask.
The bond between us now is only for show. If Mikhail wants more, he has a long way to go to regain my trust. For now, my heart remains locked away, safe from further hurt. I will play the role of the obedient wife, and nothing more.
***
We get in the car to head to the reception. We sit silent for a while, until Mikhail turns to me. “Caterina, I know thingshave changed between us, but I want you to know that I still care about you. I will do everything in my power to make this marriage work, and to protect you.”
His words should bring me comfort, but instead they fuel my fury. How dare he think he can waltz back into my life and pretend that everything will be fine? Did he forget the heart-wrenching pain he put me through when he left?
“Save it, Mikhail,” I snap, bitterness dripping from every syllable. “This marriage is nothing more than a business arrangement. Don’t fool yourself into thinking it’s anything more.”
He flinches at my harsh tone, a flicker of hurt crossing his face before he schools his expression back into neutrality. “As you wish, Caterina,” he says, his voice laced with resignation. “I won’t push you any further.”
I nod curtly, turning my attention back to the trees outside. Minutes later, we arrive at the reception venue.
***
The reception is a sea of opulence, guests in their finest attire mingling under the glittering chandeliers. I can feel the weight of my wedding dress, the heaviness of the fabric reminding me of my predicament. I try to focus on the small talk around me, but my mind keeps drifting back to the kiss we shared after the ceremony.
“Quite the bold move, don’t you think?” A venomous voice cuts through the chatter around me.
I turn to face Mikhail’s sister, her ice-cold gaze boring into me.
“E-Excuse me?” I mutter, confused.
