Eva stood in front of the full-length mirror, smoothing the delicate fabric of her gown with trembling hands. The dress, a sleek, emerald-green creation that clung to her figure, was undoubtedly stunning. It had been chosen for her by one of the stylists Logan had hired, someone who knew exactly what would photograph well under the harsh lights of the high-society gala they were about to attend.
But as Eva stared at her reflection, she couldn't help but feel like an imposter in her own life. This wasn't who she was—she was a simple boutique owner, not someone who attended galas with the city's elite. The weight of the evening pressed down on her, filling her with a sense of dread that no amount of elegance could erase.
A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts, and she turned to see Logan standing in the doorway, impeccably dressed in a black tuxedo. He looked every bit the part of the powerful CEO he was, his sharp features and commanding presence making it clear that he belonged in the world they were about to step into.
For a moment, Eva's breath caught in her throat. He was devastatingly handsome, a fact she couldn't deny even if she wanted to. But the distance between them was palpable, an invisible barrier that neither of them seemed willing—or able—to cross.
"You look beautiful," Logan said, his voice smooth but devoid of warmth. It was the kind of compliment given out of obligation, not genuine admiration.
"Thank you," Eva replied, forcing a smile. She wanted to say more, to bridge the gap that had formed between them, but the words caught in her throat. There was so much left unsaid between them, so many things she wanted to ask him, but the tension from Sophia's visit still lingered, making conversation feel impossible.
Logan stepped into the room, his eyes sweeping over her once before he extended his arm. "Shall we?"
Eva hesitated for a fraction of a second before placing her hand on his arm, the contact feeling more formal than intimate. They walked side by side, like two actors playing roles in a script neither of them had written. As they made their way down to the waiting car, Eva couldn't shake the feeling that this was just another part of the contract—a performance they had to give for the sake of appearances.
The drive to the gala was silent, the tension between them heavy and oppressive. Logan stared out the window, his expression unreadable, while Eva fidgeted with the hem of her dress, her mind racing with anxious thoughts. She had never felt more alone, despite being seated next to the man who was now her husband.
When they arrived at the event, the flash of cameras greeted them, blinding and overwhelming. Logan's grip on her arm tightened slightly, a silent reminder to keep up the act. With a deep breath, Eva forced another smile, hoping it didn't look as strained as it felt.
The grand ballroom was filled with the city's most influential people, all dressed in their finest attire. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a warm, golden glow over the room, while a live orchestra played soft, elegant music in the background. It was a scene straight out of a fairy tale, but for Eva, it felt more like a nightmare.
As they made their way through the crowd, Eva could feel the eyes of the guests on her, their curious gazes following her every move. She was acutely aware of the whispers that trailed in their wake, people murmuring about the sudden marriage, the mysterious woman who had captured Logan's attention.
But it wasn't admiration she felt from them—it was scrutiny. The kind of cold, calculating observation that made her feel like she was being measured and found lacking. She knew they were comparing her to Sophia, the woman they had expected to see on Logan's arm, and she couldn't shake the feeling that she was coming up short.
Logan was the perfect gentleman, guiding her through the throngs of people with practiced ease. He introduced her to business associates, old friends, and potential clients, his charm never faltering. But to Eva, his charm felt like a mask, something he wore to protect himself from the vulnerability of genuine connection.
Every time he spoke to her, it was with the same distant politeness, as if he were addressing a colleague rather than his wife. And every time she tried to engage him in conversation, to pull him out of his shell, he would deflect with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
It was during one of these moments, while they were speaking to a couple from a rival company, that Eva felt the full force of Logan's coldness. The woman, a tall, blonde socialite with an air of superiority, turned to Eva with a saccharine smile.
"So, Eva," she said, her tone dripping with condescension, "how did you and Logan meet? It must have been quite the story."
Eva hesitated, unsure of what to say. The truth was out of the question, but the lie she had been rehearsing in her head felt hollow and forced. Before she could respond, Logan stepped in, his voice smooth as silk.
"We met through mutual friends," he said, the lie rolling off his tongue effortlessly. "It was one of those things where everything just fell into place."
Eva forced a smile, nodding along with his story, but inside, she felt a pang of hurt. He didn't even give her a chance to answer for herself, didn't trust her to navigate the social minefield on her own. It was as if he saw her as a liability, something he had to manage rather than an equal partner.
The conversation continued, but Eva found herself withdrawing, her earlier confidence eroding with each passing minute. She could feel the woman's eyes on her, judging her, and it took everything in her not to crumble under the weight of it.
Finally, when they had a moment alone, Eva turned to Logan, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why didn't you let me answer?"
Logan's expression remained neutral, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—annoyance, perhaps? "Because I knew what to say," he replied, his tone matter-of-fact. "This isn't the place for mistakes."
Eva recoiled at his words, the implication clear. He didn't trust her, didn't believe she was capable of handling herself in this world. It was a blow to her already fragile self-esteem, and she couldn't help but feel like she was sinking, the pressure of it all threatening to drown her.
As the evening wore on, the distance between them only grew. Logan continued to play the role of the perfect husband, but to Eva, it felt like a charade, a performance for the benefit of those watching. The coldness between them was no longer just a private matter—it was on display for everyone to see.
At one point, Henry appeared, his familiar, warm smile a welcome respite from the suffocating atmosphere. "You're looking lovely, Eva," he said, his tone sincere as he took her hand in his and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles.
Eva couldn't help but smile back, grateful for his kindness. "Thank you, Henry," she replied, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly in his presence. "It's good to see you."
Logan, who had been speaking to someone nearby, turned at the sound of Henry's voice. His expression was unreadable as he watched the interaction, but there was something in his gaze that made Eva's heart skip a beat. Jealousy? No, she couldn't be sure, but there was a tension in his posture that hadn't been there before.
"Henry," Logan said, his tone cool but polite. "I didn't expect to see you here."
Henry straightened, his smile never faltering. "I wouldn't miss it," he replied easily. "Besides, I wanted to see how the newlyweds were faring."
There was a beat of silence, during which Eva felt the weight of Logan's gaze on her. She couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes, afraid of what she might see there.
"We're doing fine," Logan said finally, his tone clipped.
Henry raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of them. "Fine? Well, that's good to hear," he said, but there was an edge to his voice that suggested he wasn't entirely convinced.
The tension between the three of them was palpable, and Eva found herself longing for an escape, a way to get out from under the microscope she felt she was under. The gala, which had seemed so glamorous from the outside, had turned into a prison, each moment more suffocating than the last.
"Logan," Eva said quietly, her voice barely audible over the music. "I think I need some air."
Logan hesitated, his expression softening slightly as he took in the strain on her face. "Of course," he said, his voice gentler than it had been all evening. "Let's step outside."
They made their way to the terrace, the cool night air a welcome relief from the stifling atmosphere inside. The city skyline stretched out before them, a glittering expanse of lights that seemed so far removed from the turmoil swirling within her.
For a moment, they stood in silence, the tension between them hanging in the air like a heavy fog. Eva wanted to say something, to break the wall that had formed between them, but the words wouldn't come. She felt trapped, caught between the reality of their situation and the facade they were forced to maintain.
"Eva," Logan said finally, his voice low. "I know this isn't easy. But we have to keep up appearances. It's what we agreed to."
His words
were logical, rational, but they did nothing to ease the ache in her chest. "I know," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "But it's hard, Logan. It's harder than I thought it would be."
Logan turned to face her, his expression softening as he took in the vulnerability in her eyes. For a moment, it seemed like he might say something, offer her the reassurance she so desperately needed. But then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the softness was gone, replaced by the cold, distant mask he always wore.
"We'll get through it," he said, his tone flat. "We have to."
And with that, the moment was over. The wall between them remained intact, the distance between them as vast as ever. Eva felt a deep sense of loss, a yearning for something that seemed just out of reach—a connection, a spark, something to make this marriage feel real.
But as they turned to rejoin the party, Eva couldn't shake the feeling that whatever it was she was searching for, it was slipping further and further away. And she didn't know if she had the strength to reach for it before it was too late.