The months between their first meeting and the wedding went by faster than Amy expected. There weren't many dates, not many conversations either. Most of the time, Alexander would sit across from her with that same calm expression, answering her questions with the fewest words possible.
She told herself it was fine. People were different. Some were shy, some were talkative. Maybe he just needed time.
The wedding day came on a warm afternoon. Amy stood in front of the mirror while her mom fixed the last few strands of her hair. Her dress was simple but pretty, and her hands wouldn't stop shaking.
"You're going to be okay," her mom said softly.
Amy nodded, trying to believe it.
Downstairs, the wedding ceremony was small. Just family and a few close friends. When Amy walked in, she saw Alexander already standing at the front. He looked neat and straight as always, suit perfect, tie perfect, posture perfect. His face didn't show anything—not excitement, not nervousness—just that same unreadable calm.
When she reached him, he gave her a small nod.
"You look nice," he said.
Amy smiled, warmth rushing into her chest. "Thank you."
He didn't say anything more.
During the vows, Amy's voice shook slightly, but she meant every word. She promised to care, to support him, to be there. When it was Alexander's turn, he said his vows clearly and respectfully, every word precise.
But he didn't look at her the way she wished he would. Not with softness. Not with love. Just steady eye contact, like he was reading something serious.
After the ceremony, everyone clapped and congratulated them. Amy laughed nervously as relatives hugged her. When she turned to Alexander, he simply said:
"Everything went well."
That was it.
No smile. No hint that anything special had happened.
But he wasn't rude. He stayed by her side the whole evening, making sure she had everything she needed. When someone asked him a question, he answered politely. When Amy's aunt tried to tease him, he nodded respectfully. He wasn't cold… just distant.
On their first night in the new house, Amy walked through the hallway slowly, taking it all in. It still smelled like fresh paint and wood. Her parents had helped decorate the place, leaving small touches everywhere.
Alexander showed her where everything was—the living room, the kitchen, their bedroom. His explanations were short and calm, like he was giving her a tour of an office building, not their home.
When they reached the bedroom, he paused.
"If you need anything, let me know," he said.
"Thank you," she replied softly.
He nodded once and went to unpack his things. The room felt strangely quiet, like sound didn't know how to fill the space between them.
That night, Amy lay on her side of the bed, listening to his steady breathing. He wasn't touching her, not even close, but he wasn't ignoring her either. He just seemed… absent. Like his body was there and his heart was somewhere else.
She stared at the ceiling and whispered to herself, "He just needs time. He'll open up eventually."
She believed it. She had to.
But as the days turned into weeks, nothing changed.
Alexander stayed polite.
Alexander stayed distant.
Alexander stayed impossible to read.
And Amy kept wondering if she had married a man who simply didn't know how to love her back.