Bound by Fate, Freed by Love

Chapter 5 Words Between Strangers

The silence in the room stretched on, thick and uncomfortable. Amara stood still, her hands fidgeting nervously at her sides as Samar approached her. He didn't call her by name—there was no need to. What name would he use, after all? "Amara" felt too personal, too intimate for a man she barely knew. And "Mira" was a name only her family and closest friends called her.

They were strangers. Strangers on the verge of marriage.

Samar stopped a few feet away from her, his gaze dropping slightly to the floor before rising again to meet hers. For a moment, neither of them spoke, as if they were both waiting for the other to break the uneasy tension hanging between them.

"I suppose we should talk," Samar finally said, his voice calm, controlled, and distant—much like the man himself.

Amara nodded but didn't respond right away. What was there to say? What did you say to a man who was about to become your husband, but who didn't love you—and whom you didn't love in return?

Samar continued, his tone matter-of-fact. "This marriage... it's for Alyssa and Fidel's sake, for the family. We both know that."

Amara looked away, her fingers nervously twisting the delicate fabric of her bridal dress. "I know," she murmured, her voice quieter than she intended. "I've accepted that."

Samar nodded slowly, as though he had expected her answer. "I just want you to understand... I won't interfere with your life. Whatever you choose to do, I'll respect that. And I hope you can offer me the same freedom."

His words were straightforward, but there was an unspoken barrier between them, one that felt impossible to cross. It was clear to Amara that Samar was trying to lay the foundation for their arrangement—an arrangement, not a marriage. He wasn't offering companionship or support; he was offering distance, boundaries, and independence.

It was what Amara had expected, and yet hearing it spoken aloud made her heart feel even heavier.

"I don't have any expectations," she said quietly, her gaze still avoiding his. "I know why we're doing this. I'll keep to myself."

Samar's expression didn't change, but there was a subtle shift in his posture as if her response had confirmed what he already believed. He glanced at the window, his brow furrowing slightly before he spoke again.

"If this becomes too difficult for you, I want you to tell me. I don't want you to feel trapped."

Amara finally looked up at him, surprised by his words. Trapped? Wasn't that exactly what this marriage was? A cage built out of family duty, where neither of them had any real choice?

"I won't," she replied softly, though the weight of her own words felt like a lie.

Another silence fell between them, longer this time, and more suffocating. Amara's mind raced with a hundred unspoken thoughts, questions she could never bring herself to ask. Did Samar resent her? Did he even care about his brother's reckless infatuation with her? Or was this just a business arrangement for him—a problem to be solved?

Samar took a step back, his movements slow and deliberate. "We should get ready," he said, his voice neutral again. "Everyone's waiting for us."

Amara nodded, though her heart wasn't in it. She was about to walk down the aisle, not toward love or happiness, but into a life that felt uncertain, unknown, and cold.

As Samar turned to leave the room, Amara felt the weight of their reality press down on her shoulders. This was their marriage: two strangers bound together not by love or choice, but by obligation and sacrifice.