Love Me Red ✔️

Bride Of Doom

15

She couldn't sleep the entire night. Overthinking kept her tossing and turning in her bed. Her mind playing and replaying the scene. Their closeness, the scent of their mixed breath, the marathon of her heart when his lips were coming to catch hers. Was he really going to kiss her or was her mind that played tricks on her due to hypertension? She wanted to believe the lie but his citric musk scent that had remained on her shirt was making it difficult.

He really was close to her. The scent was all over her shirt. Scaring her, confusing her, compelling her. One moment she would want to take off the shirt and toss it outside her room but the very next, something inside her would force her to lean closer and sniff that fragrance again and again. Something about it was interesting. It was drawing her closer. Unsuspectingly calming her nerves, soothing the whirlwind of thoughts inside her brain. The scent wasn't ordinary. It was captivating, healing and if she could be honest, she wanted to have one for herself. That compelling it was.

And just like that, time elapsed before she knew it struck eight in the morning. Dim sunlight was peeking through the drapes when someone knocked on the door. Adeline grunted weakly and leapt out of the bed to open the door. Turned out, it was Trenton—waiting outside with a woman. Adeline was blankly gazing at the woman when Trenton broke.

"Adeline, meet Mia. The cosmetic artist who would do your look for today," Mia passed her a bright smile as he introduced. Adeline replied with a forced smile and glanced at Trenton who turned toward Mia and gestured her to step into the room. Adeline stepped aside and let her walk in. Trenton followed Mia's movements before turning to his sister. The softness over his features abruptly morphed into lines of worry as he observed her red-rimmed and puffy eyes.

"Bubbles, you haven't slept or what?" He stepped ahead and grabbed her wrist, showering her in concern. Adeline bit the insides of her lower-lip and shook her head with a smile. Trenton pulled a deep breath and brought her fist to press a kiss.

"Relax, everything's going to be fine," His own conscience laughed at him when it heard him saying that.

He knew lying would do him no good but he would leave no stone unturned to that chirpy shine in her eyes, at least till he could. He had no clue how he would bear them torturing her when only yesterday he couldn't bear her reaction to the black dress. Her heart mourning in silence and her eyes stinging in pain. He noticed it. He noticed it all. And that dress. That wasn't an ordinary dress. He had read about it in the wordbook. It was called a coffin of doom. Women—called the bride of doom—who were to be given to the mafia wore such dresses. The outfit was observing this marriage as a ritual to pay tribute to their late son rather than a marriage between two humans. And as if it wasn't enough, they themed the ceremony as a memorial service, because from tonight her doom would begin. From tonight she would be their slave. Whatever they would do to her, he or his father would have no say about it.

These thoughts were killing Trenton. The urge to take his life never felt this tempting. He felt like burning himself alive but that was no option for him. They would turn her life worse than a living hell. And he could not tolerate that. He had given her enough trouble.

Adeline drew her hand back when he forgot to leave it. He blinked thrice to hide the glossiness in his eyes. "Go," He cleared his throat to open it, "She is waiting for you," Adeline nodded and stepped back, keeping her eyes on him. Trenton matched her gaze and nodded meaningfully until the door closed.

*****

Mia was done styling her hair in an immaculate bun. Now, she was setting the black net-veil over her head. Adeline had kept her eyes lowered, not once she bothered to glance up and see herself. She wasn't feeling like watching herself being dolled up. She felt nothing on this big day, nothing as exciting as she dreamt to be. The eagerness to start her day. The occasional toying of her bridesmaids, the moments of watching herself getting dolled up. And the rest that would follow.