Love, Eventually

Chapter One: The Engagement

Finnigan had recently purchased Brielle's engagement ring. Despite her strong objections to the arranged marriage, her parents had advised Finnigan to be patient with her. They reassured him that she would eventually come around. Finnigan was uncertain about the future but was determined to do everything he could to make Brielle happy. Their engagement was scheduled for the following day at her house. Brielle hadn't been answering her phone despite his attempts to reach her. Finnigan suspected she was still upset about the marriage situation but was resolute in his commitment.

As the sun dipped below the horizon on a warm summer evening, Finnigan meticulously prepared to visit Brielle's home. Not long ago, his parents had visited her family, strengthening the bond between both households. With anticipation, he retrieved a delicate blue velvet box from its hiding spot and gingerly opened it. He vividly remembered the photograph Brielle had once posted on Facebook, showcasing the engagement ring she had admired for so long. The thought of her dream ring brought a warm smile to his face. Armed with his knowledge of her preferences, Finnigan was determined to win her heart. After carefully securing the small box in his pocket, he left his room, heart racing.

Upon arriving at the venue, he noticed many guests had already gathered. He glanced at his watch and breathed a sigh of relief—it wasn’t yet 8:30 p.m. After parking his car, nerves and anticipation churned in his chest. As he approached the entrance, he spotted his parents and Brielle's parents warmly welcoming guests.

"Here comes our hero," his father exclaimed joyfully.

Finnigan offered a polite nod, greeting both sets of parents before stepping inside, his eyes scanning the room for Brielle.

She stood near a tall, ornate window, gazing out at the sprawling grounds of her family estate. With guests arriving, Brielle remained detached, reluctant to participate in the celebration. Her respect for her parents kept her rooted in place, despite her desire to disappear. The pressure of her family’s status and Finnigan’s reputation only deepened her sense of obligation.

Across the room, Finnigan spotted her, noticing the sadness in her eyes. He hesitated, caught between concern and uncertainty. The weight of their families’ expectations loomed heavily over them both. His heart ached at the thought of her unhappiness, yet he felt powerless against the forces guiding their lives.

A gentle pat on his shoulder startled him. It was Brielle’s father.

"Why are you standing here? Why not talk to her?" he said encouragingly.

Finnigan offered a small smile. "Let her take her time," he replied.

Her father grinned, giving him another friendly pat. "Brielle! Come over here. We're about to begin."

Brielle turned at the sound of her father’s voice, her eyes landing on Finnigan—sharp in a dark tuxedo. A flicker of surprise crossed her face.

"You don’t love him," a voice in her mind whispered.

She walked over without a word, ignoring Finnigan’s polite, "Hello, Brielle," and headed straight to her mother. Finnigan watched her go, masking the sting of rejection with a faint smile to her father, who sighed softly and led him away.

Later, the excitement in the room grew as her father took the stage.

"Tonight, I am overjoyed to share the wonderful news of my daughter's engagement to the extraordinary Finnigan," he announced proudly. "James and I are honored to see our bond grow into something truly precious."

Applause filled the room.

"Finn, thank you for embracing our daughter," he continued warmly. "I know she can be headstrong, but she has a heart of gold."

Finnigan nodded. His eyes met Brielle’s across the room. He longed to bridge the distance between them, but she remained unreadable.

When it came time to exchange rings, the crowd cheered as they stood side by side. Encouraged by the guests, someone called for a kiss.

Finnigan hesitated, then gently held Brielle’s face and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise. Something about the gesture eased the ache in her chest—though she couldn’t explain why.

"You don’t love him," her mind reminded her.

She pulled away gently, and Finnigan stepped back, thanking the guests with a courteous smile. Brielle stood in silence, a storm of emotions swirling inside her.

After most of the guests had departed, Finnigan searched the house for her. Her parents didn’t know where she’d gone. Wandering into the garden, he finally found her standing alone.

"Hey..." he said softly.

She turned slightly but said nothing, her gaze returning to the night sky.

"Can we talk?" he asked.

"What else is there to talk about?" she replied, voice flat.

Standing beside her, he murmured, "About us."

"Us? There is no 'us,'" she shot back. "This marriage was forced on me. I never wanted any of this."

He looked at her, pain flickering in his eyes. "I know. I just... I hoped we could at least try. Pretend, for our parents, if not for us."

She turned to face him fully now, her voice sharp. "Don’t ask me to pretend. And don’t ever touch me again without asking."

Without waiting for a reply, she turned and walked away, leaving Finnigan standing in the moonlit garden, his heart heavy with the weight of her words—and the hatred in her eyes.