I rested my head on his shoulder, feeling a sense of peace envelop me. "I never knew love could feel like this," I murmured, my voice filled with contentment.
"Me neither," he replied, his fingers gently playing with my hair. "But I wouldn't trade i...
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Tyler Harrington
Today is my wedding. It's strange to think about it that way—my wedding. Even stranger to realize I'm marrying a girl I barely know. I stood in the grand hall, a restless energy coursing through me as I waited for her to arrive.
Yesterday, I found out about Amelia's past, about her struggles and the horrific abuse she endured. I was shocked, even furious—how could someone so young, so delicate, have survived something so traumatic? Yet here she was, about to become my wife. The more I learned about her, the more admiration I felt. She's not just fragile; she's a survivor, stronger than I could've ever imagined.
I straightened my jacket, feeling the weight of the moment. Suddenly, there was a flurry of movement and whispers that the bride had arrived. My heart leaped unexpectedly. I looked up just in time to see her enter the hall, walking arm-in-arm with Dave, her head lowered. My gaze was drawn to her immediately—her white gown draped elegantly over her slender frame, the soft lighting catching the sparkle of the delicate beads embroidered on her dress. She looked ethereal, but more than that, she looked terrified.
I watched her closely, noticing how tightly she clung to Dave's arm, her every step shaky, uncertain. She was beautiful, no doubt, but what captured me most was her vulnerability. There was something deeply saddening about the way her gaze stayed fixed on the floor, as though the idea of meeting anyone's eyes—especially mine—was unbearable.
As she reached the bottom of the steps, she hesitated for a moment, her eyes fluttering upwards to meet mine. Pain. Fear. That's all I could see in her eyes. It was like a punch to the gut. I wanted to reach out, to tell her she was safe now, but I knew better than to force comfort on her. I simply extended my hand, offering her a silent invitation.
Her eyes darted to my hand for a moment, and I saw the hesitation. But then, slowly, she placed her trembling hand in mine. I gripped it firmly, hoping to offer some sort of reassurance through that small gesture. Her hand was so cold, shaking uncontrollably. I had to bite back the frustration boiling inside me. Not at her, but at everything she had been through to make her so scared of even this—of me.
As we stood on the stage together, I could feel her retreating into herself, her gaze once again glued to the floor as if she could disappear into it. The announcer began the ceremony, speaking of unity, love, and commitment, but I barely heard him. All I could focus on was Amelia—how small and fragile she looked, how broken.
"Do you, Amelia Lockhart, take Tyler Harrington as your lawfully wedded husband, to love and support him until death do you part?" the officiant asked. The entire hall seemed to hold its breath as everyone waited for her response. She glanced at me, wide-eyed, then gulped and nodded quickly, as if she couldn't get the moment over fast enough.
The officiant looked confused. "She's mute," I informed him quietly. He nodded in understanding and moved on, turning his attention to me. "And do you, Tyler Harrington, take Amelia Lockhart as your lawfully wedded wife?"
I didn't hesitate, locking eyes with her as I said the words, "I do." My voice was steady, but my mind was racing. She couldn't say it out loud, but she agreed—she had agreed to this.
"You may now kiss the bride," the officiant said, signaling the moment I had both anticipated and dreaded. I cupped her delicate face in my hands, watching as her lips parted nervously. She was trembling under my touch, and I wondered if this was the first time anyone had held her this way, not with ownership, but with care.
I leaned in, pressing my lips gently against hers. The kiss wasn't long, just a brief meeting of our lips, but in that moment, I felt something stir deep inside me. When I pulled away, I caught a glimpse of her—her cheeks flushed a deep crimson. She was blushing. It was the first time I'd seen her express something other than fear or pain. I couldn't help but smile slightly at that.
"Congrats, bro!" Garry, my brother, appeared out of nowhere, engulfing me in one of his trademark bear hugs. "I'll miss you, man," he fake-cried, wiping away invisible tears. I rolled my eyes. "I'm married, not dead, Garry. Get a grip."
I glanced back at Amelia, hoping the ridiculous antics would relax her. To my surprise, she was smiling—actually smiling—at Garry's antics. That small, genuine smile made something inside me warm. Maybe—just maybe—there was hope for this marriage to be more than a business arrangement.
But then, the inevitable chaos of the wedding reception took over. Amelia's best friend Amber, with her fiery personality, swooped in and whisked Amelia away to talk, while Garry immediately started eyeing Amber like a hawk. Typical.
"I'll be right back," I told Garry, leaving him to handle our nosy business associates. I needed a break from the superficial conversation, and more than that, I needed to check on Amelia.
I found myself outside the bridal room, hearing snippets of conversation through the door. Amber's voice was loud and reassuring, "Amy, you can do this. And if that Harrington guy gives you any trouble, just tell me, and I'll handle him." I could hear the smile in her voice.
Another voice chimed in, a male's. "Yeah, you'll be okay, Amelia. We've got your back."
I frowned slightly. Who was that? Another man so close to Amelia? My protective instincts flared, but I quickly smothered the emotion. She has friends, I reminded myself. Friends who've been there for her longer than I have.
I knocked softly, not wanting to intrude. A moment later, the door opened, and Amber emerged, her arm linked with Amelia's. Behind them, a tall guy who looked like Amber's brother followed. I caught a flicker of suspicion in his eyes when he saw me, but it quickly disappeared as they passed by.
When Amelia returned to the main hall, she was quickly bombarded by business associates and reporters, their questions flying at her faster than she could process. I could see the panic rising in her eyes. Her gaze darted from one person to another, clearly overwhelmed. Without thinking, I stepped forward and slid my arm around her waist, pulling her close to me. She tensed at first but then relaxed, just a little, when she realized it was me.
"I'll handle this," I whispered to her softly before addressing the crowd.
After what felt like an eternity of socializing, answering questions, and cutting the wedding cake, we were finally done. The car pulled up outside the hall, and I helped Amelia inside. As we drove, I couldn't stop myself from glancing at her. She sat quietly, her hands fidgeting in her lap, her lips occasionally caught between her teeth. I couldn't help but feel frustrated. I wanted her to feel safe, but I was failing at it.
When the car pulled up to my estate, Lan, my driver, opened the door for me. I walked around to Amelia's side, just in time to see her stumble as she tried to step out. Instinctively, I caught her, my arms wrapping around her waist. Her eyes met mine, wide with shock. For a second, the world seemed to stop, and it was just the two of us, suspended in this moment of fragile trust.
"Careful," I whispered, my voice unexpectedly gentle. And for a brief second, she didn't seem afraid.
Maybe this marriage was a risk for both of us, but at that moment, holding her in my arms, I decided that I was willing to try and give her the life she deserved.
