I'm sorry. What did you just say? I'm married? My husband has summoned me?"
Aranya Snow blinked at the impeccably dressed man standing in front of her, wondering if she
was hallucinatingāor worse, if someone was playing an elaborate prank on her. It had to be.
Why else would someone appear at her doorstep and deliver something so absurdly
audacious?
Married?Wouldn't she know if she was married? Next thing she knew, this man would say that
her husband was a billionaire. Lol. This was the kind of thing that happened to the female leads
in overly dramatic novels or soap operas, not to her. Certainly not to her- Aranya Snow, who
often felt like she wasn't even the protagonist in her own life.
"This must be some kind of mistake," she said slowly, her words as tentative as her thoughts.
Her eyes darted from the man's calm, composed face to the large, sealed envelope in his
hands. The way he presented it somehow felt ominuous. "I'm sorry, sir, but I think you've got the
wrong person. I'm not married. Iā¦ I just turned twenty-one today. How could I possibly be
married already?"
The older man's expression remained steady, as he asked her in a calm voice," You are Miss
Aranya Snow, born on August 29th, correct?"
Aranya hesitated, her throat tightening. He wasn't wrongāhe had her name and birth date. A
chill crept up her spine as she nodded cautiously,stuttering, "Y-yes, that's meā¦"
Her heart pounded in her chest as her mind raced for explanations. Could this be a scam?
Some elaborate scheme designed to take advantage of her? Her gaze flickered back to the
man's face, trying to read any hints of deceit, but there was none. His kind eyes and patient
demeanor didn't match the cunning she'd expect from a con artist.
The only other possibility was that her aunt had married her off to someone for money. SHe
shuddered at the thought of this and quickly shook her head in denial. If it was her aunt who had
married her off, she would not have let her stay in this house. And according to Millie, the new
maid, in the house, her aunt was still looking for the highest bidder... umm, a groom for her.
With trembling hands, she accepted the envelope he extended toward her. The paper was thick
and heavy and somehow, accepting it made everything all the more real.
A new fear wrapped its tendrils around her thoughts. What if this wasn't just a joke. What if this
so-called marriage was real? She clutched the envelope tighter, a bead of sweat forming at her
temple. No no no! She had been planning her escape today. She was finally supposed to be
free. How could she get stuck in another prison.
"Iā¦ I'll have to confirm this," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "The civil affairs
bureau will have recordsā¦ ifā¦ if it's trueā¦"
The man inclined his head in a slight bow, his gloved hands retreating to clasp behind his back.
"Of course, Miss Snow. I suggest you open the documents. They will clarify everything."
Aranya closed the door quickly, not even waiting for the man to leave, her hands trembling still.
She pressed her back against the door, staring down at the envelope in her hands like it might
explode. At this moment, she might even be happier if it were a bomb.
Looking around at the quiet house, she quickly hid the envelope in her jacket and quickly raced
back towards her room. It was off. That old man had been standing there waiting for her. So,
whoever had sent him probably knew that she was the only one awake at this time and that she
would definitely step out. That thought made her pause for a minute, but then she quickly
rushed up the stairs.
Someone knowing her schedule was the least of her problems right now if... she was married.
Once inside her room, she quickly closed the rickety door and locked it. It wouldn't be much
protection if someone wanted to break in, but it would give her enough time to hide things if
needed.
Aranya placed the envelope on the desk and stared at it, her fingers trembling as she reached
for the flap. Her instincts screamed at her to stop, to throw the envelope into the trash and
pretend it never existed. But her curiosity or rather her stupidity won out.
She slid her finger under the seal, tearing it open with a faint rip. A stack of papers slipped out,
fluttering to the floor like fallen leaves. Aranya sank to her knees, gathering the sheets with
unsteady hands.
Her eyes fell on the topmost document, and her breath caught in her throat. Marriage
Certificate.
The words stared back at her in bold, official lettering, as cold and unfeeling as the document
itself. Beneath the heading was her nameāAranya Snowāwritten in crisp black ink. Her gaze
shifted to the name below hers, her fingers tightening on the edges of the paper.
Mike Sinclair. She was married to someone called Mike Sinclair?
Who was this? She had never even heard the nameā¦