Matilda lay in her bed, eyes wide open, staring at the ornate ceiling of her room. The silk sheets whispered against her skin as she shifted restlessly, her mind a whirlwind of memories and conflicting emotions.
'How did I get here?' she wondered, her thoughts drifting back to the beginning of her life with Lord Blackthorn. The grand wedding, the envious glances, the whispers of admiration that followed her everywhere. For months, she had been the talk of the town, the young beauty who had captured the heart of the most eligible bachelor.
She remembered the initial thrill of her newfound status, the doors that opened, the respect that came with being Lady Blackthorn. The perks were endless - lavish parties, exquisite jewelry, the finest clothes. Yet, beneath the glittering surface, a hollowness had slowly taken root.
'Wife,' she mused bitterly. 'I've never truly felt like his wife.'
