Amara
It's been a month since the public announcement of our marriage and after a week of nonstop rehearsals and preparations, the day has finally come. Today is our wedding day.
I am now standing in front of the towering grand closed doors that will be unfolded in a minute. I took a deep breath to prepare myself for what's about to happen. The soft melody of the music and the faint excitement of the guests began to rise as the doors slowly opened. My hands started shaking, squeezing the bouquet like a source of oxygen. My breathing became inconsistent and palms were covered with cold sweat. This was it—the harsh realization of there's no going back. I am about to be tied to a man I barely know, yet my sister knows him all too well. This will be my last moment before I enter a life that I hadn't choose.
"Once you're bound to Basil, I'll make sure every day is a living hell for you," Tatiana hissed, cutting me with her smile sharp as a blade.
"You might bear the Hawthrone's name," my stepmother added coldly, "but don't think for a moment that I will ever accept you as one of us."
The last messages that Tatiana and her mother tossed at me kept replaying in my mind like a broken recorder. They might have helped me put everything in place for the day, but their hateful words left a stain on the white gown—a bitterness I could never wash away. I might look like a bride, but in truth, I am a prisoner walking willingly into a cage I can no longer escape.
With a final deep breath, I gathered my remaining strength, and lifted my gaze, eyes scanning the hall filled with unfamiliar faces staring at me, like a peeler trying to reveal the despair behind the mask I created. Then there was Basil—standing with his parents at the end of the aisle with an intense and empty eyes. He's wearing a white tuxedo with a white dress shirt beneath and a black trouser. His cold expression made my heart beat in rush and suddenly a strange magnetic pull from his atmosphere forced me to take my first hesitant step in the path where I met my father and my stepmom. Father greeted me with a formal, practiced smile as he took my hand, while my stepmother linked her arm through mine in a gesture that felt more like a staged display than genuine support. With every step we land, the weight of the gown seemed to grow heavier, pressing down on me like the burden of expectations I'd soon have to bear once that ring was on my finger.
Tears urged at the corners of my eyes, not out of joy, but from a sadness so deep it felt impossible to escape. As a result, my vision became blurry, as if the future I'd once imagined for myself was fading into shadows. Each step down the aisle sync with the heavy pounding of my heart, marking a path I couldn't turn from. At the end, Basil greeted my father and stepmother, while I offered polite kisses to his parents' cheeks, forcing a smile that felt as fragile as glass. Without a word and with an unreadable expression, Basil reached for my hand, his grip steady and distant, guiding me forward to the altar where the burden of this choice would settle like a monument.
I struggled to gather myself, keeping my head up in regardless of the unmanageable flowing tears. They slide down my cheeks in constant streams, and I could practically feel the audience's curious gazes tapping into my back. Next to me was Basil who stood straight and unbothered, his face expression unchanging, as though he could not see my tears. The priest cleared his throat, cutting the loud silence. He opened his book and gave us a quick glance before starting the ceremony.
The priest began, "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the union of Basil Augustus Hawthrone and Seraphine Amara Montgomery. This is a sacred bond, a commitment to love and cherish each other for all the days of your lives. If anyone has any reason why these two should not be married, speak now or forever hold your peace." He paused, his calm tone resonated through the hall.
Although I could feel Basil's hand in mine, there was no comfort in his touch. His grip was firm, yet deprived of warmth. I noticed his eyes drifting over the crowd, searching for someone—Tatiana, no doubt. Perhaps he was expecting her to crash the wedding, to object and stop this show. But, there she was, sitting silently beside her mother wiping her tears away as she watched us, her gaze filled with a pain that mirrored my own. The sight of Tatiana made Basil instinctively release my hand.
Confusion made wrinkles appeard in the priest's forehead as he asked, "Is everything alright?" Basil hesitated for a second before shaking his head, faking a tight smile as he took my hand once more. The priest continued, "Basil Augustus Hawthrone, do you take Seraphine Amara Montgomery to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, until death do you part?"
Basil's jaw tightened, his eyes remained at mine for a time before finally responding, "I do." The finality of those two words stabbed a sharp knife through my lungs, constricting my breath. This was it—the moment my fate was sealed, the beginning of a life I had no choice but to endure.
"And do you, Seraphine Amara Montgomery, take Basil Augustus Hawthrone to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
I couldn't afford to let the audience see any more of our unwillingness; their whispers would soon develop into certainty that this marriage was nothing more than a false formality. Despite the terror squeezing my heart, I pushed myself to stand higher, lifting my head with an air of confidence I didn't really have. I took a big breath, met Basil's stare, and clearly replied, "I do."
The priest nodded and closed his book, "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."
Basil leaned forward, I closed my eyes as his lips brushed against mine—a meaningless kiss locking our fate. When I opened my eyes and looked at him, all I saw was the same emptiness that mirrored my own. The guests rose into applause, their cheers echoing around us like a distant, mocking chorus. Basil offered his hand and led me back down the aisle, each step feeling like pieces of glass piercing my heart, as I walked away from the last fragments of my freedom.
After the wedding ceremony, Basil and I rode back to the hotel in the same car that had brought me to the church, to prepare for the reception. We were silent throughout the trip, the pressure of everything settling deeper now. When we arrived, Basil disappeared into his room, while I am on my own, struggling to manage the heaviness of the gown.
As I turned left, I came one-on-one with a man I believe I have met before. His attractive features and sharp gaze awaken a memory I couldn't remember. Before I could move forward, he blocked the path with his large frame. My patience instantly got drained, but I hid my irritation with a smile.
"Excuse me," I said, trying to stop myself from erupting. Yet, he didn't move an inch, causing my brows to join together in annoyance, silently wondering why he was standing in my way.
The man laughed softly, "You don't remember me, do you?" He asked, his tone filled with amusement as he leaned closer.
I went forward to accept his challenge, "Should I?" I countered, crossing my arms around my chest and his eyes drifted where it shouldn't. "Eyes up here, sir." I said slicing through his pause.
His confident stance and smirk only irritated me more. "Yes," he replied smoothly.
"And why is that?" I asked, tilting my head.
He stepped closer, his fingers gently tucking a lost strand of hair behind my ear. A shiver ran through me as the tiny hairs on my skin stood on end. "You really want to know?" he asked.
I gasped, my voice delayed as I stuttered, "Y-Yes."
"Well... I was supposed to be your husband. I received your father's proposal first, but when my dad, the rightful heir to Hawthorne Agritech, passed away, everything changed," My lips parted, but no words came out. He continued, "Conveniently, they discovered Basil and Tatiana were related by blood, leaving no choice but to shift the arrangement."
His revelation, left me frozen. My mind stopped working for a minute. He was supposed to be my husband?
"We met on the rooftop after the announcement of your wedding, remember?" He said, his voice blended with amusement and bitterness. "I am Alexander Cross Hawthorne," He added.
His presence was bold, commanding the space between us. I searched his face for a hint of humor, but there was none. He was completely serious. And then it hit me: a fleeting memory, a detail buried in the chaos of that day. "I remember," I said softly, the realization sits in.
"Why are you alone?" He asked with a concerned look. "Where's your room? Let me help you with your gown. Your husband doesn't seem to care anyway." His words were like an elbow to the head, sharp and intentional. I clenched my fists, forcing myself to stay composed.
"Thanks, but I don't need your help," I replied coldly, stepping back to create some distance.
His smirk didn't left his lips, and his eyes stayed just long enough to make my skin crawl. Just as Alexander bent down to lift the hem of my gown, a deep, dominating voice broke through the scene.
"Amara," Basil's voice called out from behind, intense and authoritative.
Alexander straightened immediately, a sly smirk widening his lips as he turned to meet Basil. Meanwhile, I nailed in place, my pulse accelerating at the changes in the atmosphere.
"Hello there, couz," Alexander greeted Basil, his tone drenched with mockery.
Basil's stinging stare locked onto him, completely disregarding the greeting. "Go to your room, Amara. The guests are waiting," His voice icy and stiff, as though Alexander's presence was nothing more than a brief hindrance.
I hesitated, my eyes shifting between the two of them, observing the tension intoxicating the air. Without another word, I turned on my heel, leaving the two cousins behind, worried if their exchange was simply the cap of something deeper.
I stepped into the room, my personal stylist approaching with a quiet motion, but my mind was elsewhere, lost in confusion over Alexander's words. What did he mean by all of it? My father had offered him the deal before Basil? Why? The thought bothered me. If I had been given a choice, would I have chosen Alexander instead? Perhaps I would have, if only to avoid marrying my sister's ex-fiancé and escaping myself to a life of misery. But choice was a luxury I couldn't afford. It seemed I was destined for a hellish existence from the very moment I came into this world.
Once I was ready, I turned the knob of the door, and Basil was standing there with a mask of calm boredom on his face. He held out his arm to me without saying a word. I stood still for a second, feeling the stress of unspoken feelings, and then I put my hand in his. We went down to the reception hall together, the lively energy of the celebration getting louder with every step—a severe and painful difference to the storm of anxiety spinning inside of me.
"Don't talk to him ever again. Ignore him as much as you can," Basil said, his voice faint and hard, cutting through the soft music playing in the background as we watched the same-day edit video of our wedding. His look never blinked from the screen, but the suspense in his tone was beyond a doubt, a warning covered in control.
"Why? Because he was supposed to be my husband?" I scoffed.
Curiosity consumed me, I badly want to know what happened between these two. I wonder why he ignores his cousin, why he's so persistent on keeping me away from Alexander. No matter how many times I tried to hold myself back, the urge to dig Basil's secrets only grew stronger.
"You don't know what kind of person he is," he said, his voice commanding, his piercing gaze now locked onto mine. "Just do as I say."
I met his eyes, refusing to back down, "Maybe I don't, but I do know one thing—he's easier on the eyes than you. So unless you plan to explain yourself, I think I'll take my chances."
Basil's expression stayed cold, his jaw clenching as he moved closer, until our faces were only an inch apart. "Looks can be deceiving, Amara. Soon, you'll learn that trusting the wrong person can be far more dangerous than anything you're willing to face now."
Basil went back to watching, as I sat beside him, mouth opened in muted frustration. I searched for the right words, but nothing came. My mind was a muddled up of thoughts, yet my tongue refused to cooperate, caught somewhere between irritation and something else I couldn't quite name.
Annoyance boiled inside me. Why does he always do this to me? Every time he was near, my mind would scramble for words, but my mouth refused to follow. My pulse intensified, and I hated that he had this effect on me.