Bound by Duty

#2 - The Wedding

The morning of the wedding was nothing like what Elena had imagined a wedding would be. There were no grand displays of joy, no flutter of excitement in the air. Instead, the house was filled with the sounds of her mother barking instructions, the rustle of delicate fabric, and the occasional hum of a maid as she set the room in order. Elena had always imagined a day like this would feel... different. But today, there was nothing but the weight of expectation.

Her wedding gown—a masterpiece of lace and satin—was laid out on the bed, its pristine white hue looking almost too innocent for what it represented. Elena ran her fingers over the fabric, but it did nothing to calm the swirling nerves in her stomach. The dress was meant to signify purity, a fresh beginning, but all it did was remind her of the world she was leaving behind and the unknown future that awaited her.

A knock came at the door. "Elena, darling, it's time."

Her mother's voice was soft but firm, the same tone she used for all important moments. Elena didn't have the heart to argue or ask for more time. There was no more time. Everything had been arranged, finalized, and now there was only the inevitable to face.

She stood slowly, turning toward the full-length mirror. For the first time that day, she took in the reflection. The dress fit her perfectly, but she felt as though it didn't belong to her. There was something foreign about the woman staring back—someone who looked like Elena, but not quite. Someone caught between who she had been and who she was supposed to become.

The door creaked open, and her mother entered with a smile that was almost too wide. "You look beautiful," she said, smoothing the dress over Elena's waist. "You will make a wonderful wife."

Elena didn't answer. She couldn't. How could she? Her mind was a mess of conflicting thoughts, and her heart ached with the uncertainty of it all. She thought about running. Just for a moment, the thought crossed her mind. But no. There was no running from this. There was no escaping her duty.

Her mother took her arm, leading her down the stairs toward the front door. The house had been transformed for the occasion—candles flickered in every corner, fresh flowers adorned every surface, and the air was heavy with the scent of perfume and anticipation. The carriage was waiting outside, decorated with ribbons and bows, its horses pawing the ground impatiently as if they, too, understood the significance of the day.

The drive to the cathedral was a blur. Elena kept her hands folded in her lap, her eyes fixed on the window, though she wasn't really looking at anything. Her thoughts kept drifting back to Adrian. What would he be like? Would he be kind? Would he even like her? The uncertainty gnawed at her. This wasn't the life she had imagined. This wasn't love.

When the carriage pulled to a stop, Elena took a deep breath, steadying herself. The church was beautiful, its towering spires reaching into the sky like a monument to something holy, something unyielding. She stepped out of the carriage and onto the stone steps, her heart racing with each step. The sound of church bells rang in the distance, signaling the arrival of the bride, but to Elena, the bells felt more like a countdown—a reminder that there was no turning back.

As she entered the grand cathedral, the hushed murmurs of the guests filled the space. She could feel their eyes on her, their whispers of approval, their quiet judgments. It wasn't a moment of joy or celebration for her. It was a performance. A moment she had to get through. A duty she had to fulfill.

The altar seemed miles away, and her gaze flicked nervously around the room. Then, at the front, she saw him. Adrian.

He was standing tall, his back straight, eyes forward. His dark hair was neatly styled, and his black suit was impeccably tailored. He didn't look at her as she entered, and for a moment, Elena wondered if he was even aware of her presence. She caught sight of his profile—a sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and lips set in a firm line. He looked... distant. Cold, even.

As the music began, Elena walked toward him, each step heavy with the weight of her future. When she reached the altar, she took her place beside him, still avoiding his gaze. She could feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating. He stood rigidly, as though bound by some invisible force.

The ceremony proceeded without incident, the priest's voice echoing in the large, vaulted space. Elena repeated the vows mechanically, her voice almost lost in the sound of her racing heart. "I do," she said, the words slipping from her mouth like they were someone else's. Adrian did the same, his voice low but clear, his eyes never meeting hers.

Then, the moment of the kiss arrived. Adrian turned toward her, his face impassive, and leaned in. His lips touched hers lightly, a perfunctory gesture, a formality. It was nothing like the kiss she had dreamed of as a girl. No sparks, no warmth, just cold duty. And then it was over. He stepped back, and the priest announced them as husband and wife.

Elena was married. To a stranger.