The grand hall sparkled with lights that shimmered like stars. White roses lined the aisle, and a string quartet played softly in the background. It was the kind of wedding every girl dreamed of — elegant, extravagant, perfect.
Except the bride wasn't smiling.
Liana Blake stood at the altar, her hands trembling beneath her satin gloves. The gown she wore was a masterpiece — handmade lace, pearls, a flowing train fit for royalty. But no amount of beauty stitched into the fabric could make her feel beautiful.
Whispers danced across the room like smoke.
"She's so… not what I expected."
"Why him? He could've had anyone."
"Is that Celeste's stepsister? I heard she paid for the wedding herself."
Liana heard them. Every word stabbed a little deeper, but she kept her head high. Not because she was confident — because she had learned how to pretend.
Standing beside her was Damien Hart, the man she had loved for ten long years. Tall, striking, dressed in a custom black tuxedo that made him look like a prince out of a dream. But the way he looked at her felt like a nightmare.
His eyes were cold, blank, distant. Not a trace of joy — not even politeness.
"I do," she whispered, forcing her voice steady.
There was a long pause before Damien finally replied, "I do."
When the priest announced them husband and wife, he didn't kiss her. Instead, he turned away first, leaving her to awkwardly smile for the flashing cameras.
---
That night, the mansion was quiet — too quiet for a newlywed couple. Liana sat on the edge of the bed, the heavy dress still clinging to her, waiting. Hoping.
Damien entered the room after hours, already loosening his tie.
"You should sleep in the guest room," he said casually, not even looking at her.
She stood up. "Damien, I—can we talk?"
He sighed, clearly annoyed. "If it's about today, don't bother. We've done what we had to. We're married. Let's not make this more complicated."
Liana's heart squeezed. "But… you didn't even look at me. Not once."
He finally turned. "Because I didn't want to." His words were sharp, unfiltered. "You think this marriage means something? My parents forced me into this. You were convenient. That's all."
Tears blurred her vision. "I've loved you… for ten years."
Damien scoffed. "Then you've wasted ten years of your life."
The silence after that was louder than any scream. He left the room without another word, slamming the door behind him.
---
Flashback — Ten Years Ago
A sixteen-year-old Liana peeked around a school pillar, hiding behind a worn sketchbook. Damien stood near the fountain with Celeste, gently fixing a ribbon on her uniform. The whole scene was like a picture from a romance drama.
Liana clutched the book tighter — his name was scribbled all over the pages.
He didn't even know she existed. Not then. Not yet.
But she promised herself: One day, he'll see me.
---
The morning after the wedding, the sun barely rose before Celeste appeared, dressed in a soft pink dress, her hair tied in waves.
"Congratulations, big sister," she said sweetly, sipping tea in the lounge. "So… how was your wedding night?"
Liana stood frozen by the stairs. Her voice was quiet. "Celeste… don't start."
Celeste laughed, twirling her cup. "Relax. I'm just saying — Damien looked so miserable yesterday. Honestly, I thought he'd call it off."
Liana's lips trembled. "Why are you doing this?"
"Because I can." Celeste leaned closer. "Face it, Liana. You got the ring, but you'll never have his heart. That belongs to me. Always has."
Liana turned away before the tears could fall. Again.
---
Later that night, she sat on the bed alone, clutching an old letter she had written but never sent.
> Dear Damien,
I know you'll never look at me the way you look at Celeste.
But I've loved you in silence for so long. I don't want anything from you. Just a chance.
Even if you never love me… I'll still love you.
She crumpled it and threw it away.
Her hands sank into the soft fabric of her wedding gown as tears slipped down her cheeks, silently soaking the silk. The room was beautiful, yet it had never felt more like a cage.
The silence was interrupted by a soft knock at the door.
She wiped her face quickly. "Who is it?"
No response. Just the click of the door handle.
Damien stood there, his shirt half-buttoned, a glass of whiskey in one hand. His hair was slightly tousled, his tie missing.
"I'm sleeping in here tonight," he muttered.
Liana's heart thumped. "You—what?"
"I'm drunk. I don't want to sleep downstairs," he said bluntly, walking in like the room didn't belong to her too.
She shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to do.
"You can take the bed," she said quietly, standing to leave.
"Just stay," he muttered, already collapsing onto one side of the bed.
She stood frozen. Her mind screamed for her to leave — but her heart? It clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, this was a start. Maybe he was trying.
Minutes passed. Then, just as she moved to grab a pillow and sleep on the couch, his voice called out.
"You love me, right?"
She turned, startled. "W-what?"
"You said you've loved me for ten years." He slurred slightly. "Why?"
She opened her mouth, but the words tangled in her throat.
He sat up, his eyes glossy from the alcohol. "You think love is enough to make me want you? Look at you. Look at me." His gaze dropped to her body with distaste. "You really think we belong together?"
She felt something inside her fracture.
"I know I'm not beautiful, Damien," she whispered. "But I've never asked for anything from you. I just… I just wanted a chance."
He laughed bitterly. "A chance to what? Trap me?"
"I didn't—!"
Before she could defend herself, he leaned in, the glass falling to the floor. He grabbed her arm, pulled her roughly, and crushed his lips against hers — not with passion, not with love, but with bitterness and confusion.
She gasped, stunned. "Damien—stop, you're drunk—"
But his grip tightened. That night, Liana didn't cry. She lay still afterward, staring at the ceiling as her husband turned away and drifted into unconsciousness, not even realizing what he had done.
Not even realizing how much he had broken her.
---
The next morning, Liana sat alone on the bathroom floor, arms wrapped around her knees. Her gown was still on the floor from the night before. Everything in the room looked the same — and yet, nothing felt the same.
She walked to the mirror and stared at herself. Puffy eyes. Swollen lips. Hair undone.
She touched her stomach unconsciously.
A storm had begun, and she didn't even know yet that life had already started growing inside her.
End of Chapter One
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