Alex closed her eyes the moment she entered the car. The dull vibration of the engine grounded her, forcing reality to sink in.
What was she even doing? Who was this man beside her, and why had she agreed to marry him? Why hadn't his father been at the wedding? Elizabeth had mentioned him more than once, but he hadn't shown up. Why hadn't Julian invited any of his friends? And most of all, why had her mother agreed to this madness? Catherine was many things, but Alex knew she loved her. So why push her into something like this?
Those questions tangled inside her head, racing one after another with no answers. Her chest felt tight, her heart heavy. Unable to fight her exhaustion, she let her lashes fall and drifted into uneasy sleep.
---
Julian carried her upstairs when they arrived. She was light in his arms, but the act itself weighed heavily on him. By the time he laid her on the bed prepared for a future he hadn't envisioned with her, he already knew better than to stay. The last thing he needed was for her to wake up in the middle of the night and hurl something at his head—or worse, scream the whole house down.
He lingered for a second, looking at her against the white sheets, before he pulled away and left the room.
The house was his. He had designed it, built it, and furnished every corner. And yet, he had never once slept in this particular room—this room meant for a wife. The room next to it, however, had been his for six years. That was where he belonged tonight.
He dropped onto his bed, exhausted from the day, tugging loose his tie and shutting his eyes. But sleep evaded him. Instead, the image of the woman in the next room kept breaking through.
How was she supposed to cope with all this? She clearly hadn't wanted the wedding, and he couldn't blame her. What kind of life could he honestly promise her? What had possessed him to even agree? Was it a mistake? Should he tell her the truth? No. He couldn't—no matter how much guilt burned in his chest. She deserved better than this arrangement… but he couldn't walk away. Not now.
His thoughts turned to the wedding. She had been through a lot of stress, preparing for the wedding in such short time. He had buried himself in his work to avoid thinking about it. He had wanted to help, to relieve her of the burden but his mum had insisted that they could do it alone. He had gone to his parent's house sometimes, meeting them discussing the wedding plans. He always noticed her polite smile to his mother but under that smile was something else.
She deserved more than what she got today, and he knew it. He remembered the kiss, the reckless challenge he had given in to. Stupid. Probably the dumbest thing he had ever done. She despised him, yet he had kissed her anyway, just to prove her wrong. And God help him, he still felt it.
Then there was his father. The thought of his absence twisted Julian's stomach with anger. He had known the circumstances, but that was no excuse. Not showing up had been unforgivable.
Julian opened his eyes with a sharp breath, forcing the thoughts away. Dwelling wouldn't change a thing. What he needed was rest—to survive whatever storm Alex would unleash tomorrow. He would have buried himself in work if he could, but his mother had "generously" commanded him not to show his face at the office for three days. Three whole days trapped with his new wife.
He almost rolled his eyes, but caught himself. Alex had done that earlier—more than once—and the memory pulled an involuntary smile to his lips.
Eventually, he slipped into sleep. His dreams were far from peaceful. In them, Alex was wide awake the next morning, standing over him with a knife pressed to his throat.