he hated it. every single thing about arranged marriages brought a sour taste in his mouth and frustration in his gut.
he grinned sadistically at the girl in front of him, looking scared and out of place in her expensive wedding dress.
he knew it wasn't her fault, but... someone had to pay, right?
🌚🌝
ever since they had arrived in their honeymoon spot he had been purposefully ignoring her, from the six hour ride on the plane to the 30 minute ride to the hotel.
some sort of sick satisfaction rose in him as she looked away, clearly upset only to excuse herself from the over the top meal to go to the room.
he smiled to himself as he wiped his hands delicately on his napkin, dabbing the corner of his mouth gracefully.
it wasn't that he didn't think she was pretty- no. his father was too good at knowing exactly what kind of girl he liked.
if he wasn't forced into it, he would probably have fallen for her by himself. she would have caught his eye at one of the charity galas he always found himself attending. her hair would be in gorgeous curls, her makeup light and tasteful. his lip would curve into a smile over the tip of his champagne glass and maybe he would ask her for a dance.
but now he could only regard her with contempt, unable to associate her attractive features and headstrong attitude with someone he could fall in love with.
even though he knew it would be so easy. she was perfect for him, in every sense, but he wanted her to feel the same constriction he did when his father announced the marriage for him.
after all, she was the one who had asked her father for it.
🌝🌚
she was persistent.
when he came home late from work she would be asleep on the couch, two plates of untouched food sitting on the table. they seemed to glare at him in disgust.
look what you're doing, they say.
we know you see she's lost weight. this is all your fault.
but then he shakes his head and reminds himself that she's the enemy, even when it really is concerning how much shes lost. and the circles under her eyes aren't getting any better; she has a job of her own that is just as stressful as his.
he may be an asshole but he's still a gentleman, which is what he attributes to why he's currently carrying her sleeping figure bridal style up the stairs and to their room, and brushing the knots out of her hair while she leans sleepily on his shoulder.
he lays her down on her side of the bed, and leaves only to undress and prepare for bed before sliding under the sheets next to her.
when he wakes up, she is nowhere to be seen and he feels colder than when he had fallen asleep.
🌚🌝
they continue like that for a while, not talking but still showing small pieces of what he has come to label as affection.
soon, they began to talk at night, when he was less exhausted. they lay staring at each other, bodies far too far apart. and he learned that she was so smart, and eloquent, yet endlessly funny.
and despite himself, he started falling.
he came home from work earlier, telling his father that he has 'a waiting wife with delicious dinner' to take care of, to which the older man let our a good natured laugh and clapped his son on the shoulder.
