Forced promises

Force

The next morning, the weight of the argument from the night before still lingered in the air. I hadn't spoken to Aries since walking away, and I wasn't sure how we were going to get through the day ahead without another confrontation. Today was the day of our pre-wedding photoshoot—another carefully orchestrated event by our families to showcase the perfect couple we were pretending to be.

I soon arrived at the studio, greeted by the photographer's overly enthusiastic assistant, who was eager to make us look like we were madly in love. I could already feel the tension building in my chest as I sat in front of the makeup mirror, my eyes catching my own reflection. A flawless bride-to-be staring back, but it was nothing more than a carefully constructed façade.

Aries arrived shortly after, looking calm and collected as always. He greeted everyone politely but barely glanced in my direction. The photographer, a well-known professional hired for his ability to capture "authentic romance," started setting up the scene—beautiful arrangements of flowers, soft lighting, the whole atmosphere crafted for intimacy. It was almost laughable given how far we were from anything resembling that.

"Alright, let's start with something simple," the photographer said, clapping his hands together. "Aries, stand behind Vivian, wrap your arms around her waist. I want something soft and loving."

I stood stiffly as Aries stepped closer, his presence immediately setting my nerves on edge. I could feel his hands brush against my waist as he hesitated for a fraction of a second before wrapping his arms around me. The contact was awkward, too deliberate, and it felt more like a trap than an embrace. His breath was steady, but I could sense the tension in the way his fingers lightly gripped my waist, as if he was holding back just as much as I was.

"Perfect, perfect!" the photographer called out. "Now, Vivian, lean your head back onto Aries' shoulder. Relax. You're with the man you love."

I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat. My heart pounded, and not in the way it was supposed to in a moment like this. I forced myself to lean back slightly, my head touching his shoulder. I could feel his body tense, and we were both acutely aware of the uncomfortable proximity. It was all for the camera, but it felt like a lie I couldn't escape from.

After a few clicks of the camera, the photographer suddenly stopped, inspecting the shots. He frowned slightly, then waved his hand. "We need more chemistry. More passion. You're getting married soon! Let's try something different."

I could feel what was coming before he even said it. My stomach tightened as he continued.

"Okay, how about a kiss?" The photographer grinned, completely unaware of the tension simmering between us. "It's a classic shot. Aries, turn Vivian toward you. Let's capture the love in your eyes before the kiss."

Aries' body tensed even more beside me, and I could feel my breath catch in my throat. He turned toward me slowly, his eyes locking with mine for the first time in what felt like forever. His expression was unreadable, a mask of control, but there was something else—something deeper and darker—lurking beneath the surface.

We stood facing each other, and the room around us seemed to fade away, the sounds of the camera and the instructions from the photographer blurring into the background. Aries lifted his hand to my cheek, his touch so light it felt like a ghost of a gesture. His thumb brushed my skin, and for a split second, the tension between us became something entirely different—charged, electric.

I could feel his breath against my lips as he hesitated, his eyes searching mine for something—what, I wasn't sure. We were both trapped in this moment, forced to play a part we didn't want to play.

The photographer's voice cut through the silence. "Closer, Aries. Kiss her."

Aries' jaw tightened, and I could see the conflict in his eyes. I knew he didn't want this any more than I did, but we were bound by the expectations around us. Slowly, he leaned in, closing the gap between us. His lips brushed against mine, barely touching at first, and the moment was more painful than I expected. It was soft, delicate, like the ghost of a kiss rather than the real thing. I could feel the forced nature of it in every movement, the way he held back, the way we both did.

For the camera, it was perfect—a picture of two people in love, lost in the moment. But for us, it was a reminder of everything that wasn't right, everything that felt wrong.

As soon as the photographer called out, "That's it! Beautiful shot!" Aries pulled back, his expression cold and distant again. He didn't say anything as he stepped away from me, his hands falling to his sides. I could feel the flush of heat in my cheeks, not from the kiss but from the frustration bubbling up inside me.

"That's a wrap for the intimate shots," the photographer said, oblivious to the tension between us. "Next, we'll do some solo shots, and then we're done!"

Aries and I exchanged a brief glance, but neither of us said a word. There was nothing left to say. We had played our parts for the camera, for our families, and for the world. But when the lights went down and the cameras stopped clicking, we were still stuck in the same painful reality—two people bound together by obligation, resentment simmering beneath the surface.

As Aries walked away to change for his solo shots, I couldn't help but wonder if he at least liked it. His lips were soft. He was gentle but it felt forced. Of course.