The evening air carried a sense of elegance as Bryce and Kasmine arrived at one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city. It was one of those nights where the world outside felt distant—gold chandeliers glimmered overhead, crystal glasses clinked gently, and soft music floated across the room.
Kasmine wore a sleek, body-hugging gown that made heads turn as she walked beside Bryce, his hand lightly resting on the small of her back. For a moment, she felt proud—like she belonged by his side.
But then it happened.
"Katie?"
The voice came from behind, silky and sharp. Kasmine turned to see a stunning woman in a designer dress striding toward them with confidence. Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she leaned up and pressed a kiss to Bryce's cheek, lingering longer than necessary.
"Bryce, darling," Katie purred, her eyes glinting as they flicked toward Kasmine. "It's been too long."
Kasmine froze. She didn't miss the way people around them glanced curiously, whispering.
Bryce's jaw tightened as he straightened. "Katie." His tone was clipped, businesslike. Then, without hesitation, he slid his arm around Kasmine's waist and pulled her close. "This is my wife, Kasmine."
The word wife echoed in Kasmine's chest, filling her with warmth for a fleeting moment. Katie, however, arched a perfectly manicured brow and smirked, as if the word were nothing but a joke.
Kasmine felt her stomach knot. The kiss on his cheek still burned in her mind. Her hands trembled, and before she could stop herself, she pulled away from Bryce's hold and walked out of the restaurant, ignoring the eyes that followed her.
"Damn it," Bryce muttered under his breath before excusing himself and chasing after her.
Outside, Kasmine stood by the fountain, her arms wrapped around herself. The glow of the city lights reflected in her eyes, but her face was tight with hurt.
"Kasmine," Bryce's voice was low, almost warning. "Don't walk away like that."
She turned to him, her voice sharp though trembling. "Why shouldn't I? She kissed you like she still had every right. And you— you just stood there, Bryce."
He exhaled heavily, dragging a hand through his hair. "It was nothing. Don't make it more than it is."
"To me, it felt like everything," she whispered, her chest heaving.
For a long moment, he said nothing. Then his eyes hardened, his walls snapping back into place. "Kasmine. Don't forget what this is. You're my wife, yes—but only for 365 days. Don't start expecting anything more."
The words cut deeper than she expected. Her heart clenched, but she forced her face to remain steady. She nodded once, blinking back the sting in her eyes.
"Fine," she said quietly, turning away from him. "One year. I won't forget."
But as she walked back toward the car, Bryce stood frozen, watching her retreating figure. His own words echoed inside his head, heavy with a weight he hadn't anticipated.
Because the truth was—he was the one who couldn't forget how much she was starting to matter.
The mansion felt colder after that night.
Kasmine no longer waited for Bryce in the mornings. Instead, she rose quietly, prepared his breakfast with care, then left it waiting on the dining table before disappearing into her own routine. The meals were still perfect—scrambled eggs, freshly brewed coffee, toast, roasted fish sometimes—but she never sat down to eat with him.
Bryce noticed the change immediately. At first, he told himself it didn't matter, that it was better this way. Yet every time he walked into the dining room and saw her seat empty, something twisted inside him.
She also moved her things out of their shared room. Now, at night, his bed felt too wide, too silent. He caught himself listening for her footsteps, the sound of her soft breathing, only to be met with emptiness.
Worse still, Kasmine had stopped dressing to please him. No more tight gowns that showed off her perfect curves, no more delicate skirts or fitted tops. Instead, she wore long, free gowns—plain and shapeless. They hid her body, and in some way, they hid her.
Whenever he saw her pass by in the hallway, Bryce felt an irritation that wasn't really anger, more like frustration. His jaw would clench, and he would force himself to look away. She, in turn, barely glanced at him, as though he wasn't worth her attention.
The staff noticed too. The whispers spread quickly through the mansion—how Mrs. Stone no longer smiled, how the master and his young bride barely spoke to each other.
Bryce kept his mask of cold indifference, but inside, the silence weighed on him. He wasn't used to being ignored. Not by her. Not by the one person who had, without him realizing, already found a place in his world.
And yet, pride held him back.
So the days passed with cold stares, untouched breakfasts, and the growing distance of two people who both felt hurt, but refused to admit how much it mattered.
The silence between them might have stretched on endlessly, if not for the unexpected visit.
One afternoon, Bryce's mother arrived at the mansion, her presence commanding yet warm as always. To Kasmine's surprise, her grandmother had also been invited. The two women seemed to have bonded quickly, chatting about the wedding and fussing over the young couple.
For the first time in weeks, Kasmine and Bryce had no choice but to act like nothing was wrong. Over breakfast and lunch with their family, he pulled out her chair for her, placed his hand on the small of her back, even fed her a piece of roasted fish with a quiet smirk. She smiled shyly, though her heart pounded at the forced intimacy.
But somewhere between the charade and the stolen glances, something shifted. Kasmine found herself dressing differently again—no more shapeless gowns. That evening, she slipped into a fitted silk dress that hugged every curve, her hair cascading down her back. Bryce's eyes followed her the moment she entered the room, dark and hungry.
Later, when the house had quieted down, Bryce cornered her in their bedroom. The tension that had built for days finally snapped.
"I was wrong," he muttered, his hand sliding to her waist, pulling her close. "I shouldn't have said what I did that night."
His lips claimed hers hungrily before she could respond. The kiss was raw, almost desperate. She melted against him, her hands clinging to his shirt. His mouth moved to her neck, sucking gently, leaving marks that made her gasp.
Kasmine trembled as his hands roamed, cupping her breasts through the silk, then slipping beneath the fabric to tease her stiffening nipples. He sucked one into his mouth, rolling the other between his fingers, and her knees nearly buckled.
"Bryce…" she whimpered.
He lowered her onto the bed, spreading her thighs gently before settling between them. His kisses trailed lower and lower until he reached the core of her heat. She cried out softly as his tongue slid against her folds, tasting her slowly, savoring her gasps.
Her hands fisted the sheets, her body arching uncontrollably beneath his touch. He was relentless, eating her until she shattered in his mouth, moaning his name.
He looked up at her, lips glistening, eyes dark. "You're mine, Kasmine. Don't ever forget that."
But even in the haze of pleasure, she remembered—there was still no sex. He stopped himself, holding back with effort.
What they didn't know was that just down the hall, his mother had heard. The walls of the old mansion weren't as thick as Bryce assumed. She pressed her lips together, hiding a smile, while Kasmine's grandmother raised her brows knowingly.
By the next morning, both women looked at the young couple with eyes that held more secrets than either Kasmine or Bryce realized.