The grand ballroom shimmered under the glow of crystal chandeliers, its walls adorned with cascades of white roses.
It was a picture-perfect setting for a wedding, but Clara felt anything but perfect.
Standing at the altar in her ivory gown, she looked every bit the radiant bride, yet her eyes betrayed her.
There was no sparkle, no joy.
This wasn't the wedding she had dreamed of as a girl. This was a transaction, a merger of two powerful families, and she was the bargaining chip.
Beside her stood Aiden, the groom, his tailored tuxedo fitting him like a second skin. He was the epitome of charm, his roguish smile and confident demeanor making him the center of attention.
But even he couldn't ignore the tension radiating from Clara.
He had known from the start that this marriage was purely business, but he hadn't expected her to be so… indifferent.
As the officiant droned on, Aiden leaned slightly toward Clara and whispered, "You know, you could at least pretend to be happy. People are starting to notice."
Clara's lips curved into a faint, sarcastic smile. "I'm here, aren't I? That should be enough."
Aiden raised an eyebrow, intrigued. He had heard Clara was strong-willed, but he hadn't anticipated her sharp tongue. It was a refreshing change from the women who usually fawned over him.
The ceremony concluded, and the newlyweds were ushered into the reception hall. The room buzzed with laughter and clinking glasses, but Clara felt like an outsider in her own life.
She plastered on a polite smile and endured the endless stream of congratulations, her mind elsewhere.
Aiden, ever the playboy, worked the room with ease, charming guests with his wit and charisma.
But his eyes kept drifting back to Clara, who stood alone by the window, staring out at the moonlit garden.
There was something about her quiet strength that drew him in, something he couldn't quite put his finger on.
He approached her, two glasses of champagne in hand. "You look like you could use this," he said, offering her a glass.
Clara accepted it with a nod of thanks but said nothing.
Aiden leaned against the windowsill, studying her. "You know, we're in this together. Might as well make the best of it."
Clara sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. "You know it's not that simple, and... this isn't what I want."
"What did you want?" he asked, genuinely curious.
She hesitated, then met his gaze. "Freedom. A life where I'm not just a pawn in someone else's game."
Aiden's gaze lingered on Clara for a moment.
"Look," he said, his voice calm but tinged with something unspoken, "I know this isn't ideal. But maybe we can find a way to make it work. We're both in this together, so why not try to make it... bearable?"
Clara studied him, surprised by his sincerity. She had expected him to be dismissive, to treat this like just another conquest.
But there was a depth to him she hadn't noticed before.
"Bearable, huh?" she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I suppose that's a start."
Aiden grinned, his usual charm returning. "That's the spirit. Now, how about a dance? It's our wedding, after all."
Clara hesitated, then nodded. As they stepped onto the dance floor, Aiden took her hand, his touch surprisingly warm and reassuring.
The music swelled around them, and for the first time that evening, Clara felt a flicker of something—hope, perhaps, or maybe just curiosity.
As they swayed to the rhythm, Aiden leaned in and whispered, "Who knows? Maybe this won't be so bad after all."
Clara looked up at him, her eyes searching his. "Maybe," she replied softly.
And for the first time that night, her smile reached her eyes.
After the wedding ended, they moved into the house arranged by their families and began their cohabitation.
The sprawling mansion that Clara and Aiden now called home was a masterpiece of modern architecture, complete with floor-to-ceiling windows, a private pool, and a garden that seemed to stretch endlessly.
It was a house fit for a power couple, but for Clara and Aiden, it was more like a beautifully decorated stage where they performed their roles.
They settled into a routine that was surprisingly comfortable. Clara had her wing of the house, and Aiden had his.
They shared meals when necessary, exchanged polite conversation, and maintained the illusion of a happy marriage whenever they were in public. Behind closed doors, however, they lived separate lives, each respecting the other's space.
For Clara, this arrangement was a relief. She had always valued her independence, and the fact that Aiden didn't try to encroach on it was a welcome surprise.
She threw herself into her work, finding solace in the familiar rhythm of her family's company.