Twisted Vows, Hidden Desire

The sun blazed high in the sky, casting golden rays through the stained-glass windows of St. Michael's Cathedral. Inside, the air was thick with the soft hum of whispers, the rustle of silk gowns, and the distant chime of wedding bells. The pews were packed with family members, friends, and distant relatives, all gathered to witness a union that, on the surface, seemed destined for happiness. But beneath the glamour, two hearts lay burdened with unspoken resentment.

Standing at the altar, Ethan Blake tugged at the collar of his crisp, custom-tailored black suit. His jaw clenched as he gazed toward the entrance. His heart wasn't in the grand spectacle before him. His eyes darted briefly toward the crowd, hoping—just maybe—he'd see Claire Bennett, his childhood sweetheart, somewhere in the sea of faces. But she wasn't there. She had promised she wouldn't come. It was too painful for both of them.

His best man, Ryan Hale, leaned in with a smirk.

"Don't look like you're headed to your funeral, bro," Ryan teased. "Smile a little. You're about to marry the woman of every man's dreams."

"Not mine," Ethan muttered, eyes still fixed on the door.

At that moment, the large cathedral doors creaked open. The room stilled. Every head turned.

Dressed in an elegant, off-shoulder white gown that shimmered like pearls under the light, Amelia Reed stepped forward, her hand lightly gripping her father's arm. Her face was a perfect mask of grace and poise, but behind it, her heart beat with rebellion. She didn't want this. She never did. Her dream was to live life on her own terms, adopt children, and build a legacy of her own. Marriage had never been part of her plan.

Her gaze remained straight ahead, determined not to meet the curious eyes of the crowd. She'd practiced this moment a hundred times in her head—chin up, shoulders back, and no second-guessing. Her father, Robert Reed, a man of authority and pride, smiled broadly as though he'd won a great victory. His grip on her arm was firm, a silent reminder that this wedding was as much his triumph as it was hers.

Her mother, Margaret Reed, dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief in the front row, beaming with pride. Her gaze shifted briefly to the Blakes, her in-laws-to-be, seated stiffly across the aisle. Henry Blake, Ethan's father, wore the look of a man who had gotten everything he'd ever wanted in life, while Eleanor Blake sat poised like royalty, her gaze sharp as if inspecting Amelia for flaws.

As Amelia walked down the aisle, her mind drifted. Why am I doing this? Why did I let them force me into this? Her eyes glanced at Ethan, the man she was supposed to call her husband in a few minutes. He stood tall, strong, and undeniably handsome, but he wasn't hers. She knew it, and so did he.

Their eyes met for the briefest moment. She could see it clearly — the same emptiness, the same silent plea. We're both trapped.

---

The priest's voice echoed through the cathedral, calling the couple to attention.

"Do you, Ethan Blake, take Amelia Reed to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, until death do you part?"

A pause.

All eyes were on Ethan. His lips parted, but for a second, no sound came out. He glanced sideways at Henry Blake, his father's piercing eyes boring into him like a warning. Next, his eyes darted to Robert Reed, who tilted his head slightly, as if to say, You dare embarrass me now?

Ryan nudged him lightly with his elbow. "Don't freeze, bro."

With a deep breath, Ethan straightened his shoulders. His gaze found Amelia's. Her eyes were unreadable, but there was no fear. No softness. Only quiet defiance.

"I do," he said, his voice steady but hollow.

The priest turned to Amelia.

"And do you, Amelia Reed, take Ethan Blake to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, until death do you part?"

Amelia blinked slowly, her heartbeat quickening. She felt her mother's gaze on her, her father's authority pressing down on her like an iron weight. From the corner of her eye, she spotted her childhood friend, Hannah Cole, giving her a small nod from the pews. Be strong, Amelia. You're stronger than this.

Her eyes met Ethan's once more. She saw it — the exhaustion, the silent plea to end this charade. But there was no going back. They were already halfway down the road.

Her lips moved slowly, every word feeling like a betrayal of herself.

"I do," she said softly but firmly.

The crowd erupted in applause. Her father grinned like a man who had conquered an empire. Ethan's father leaned back in his seat with a satisfied nod. The two mothers exchanged brief glances of approval, their silent war of pride momentarily put on pause.

"By the power vested in me," the priest declared, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

The applause grew louder. Amelia's eyes met Ethan's. They stared at each other, two strangers bound by duty, each waiting for the other to make a move.

"Shall we?" he asked, his voice low and sarcastic.

She tilted her head slightly. "Get it over with," she replied.

He leaned in, placed a soft, calculated kiss on her cheek, and the crowd cheered as if they'd witnessed a grand display of love. Cameras flashed from every corner of the cathedral. Their parents beamed with pride, completely oblivious to the cold detachment between the couple.

Ryan clapped Ethan on the back.

"Congratulations, Mr. Blake. You're officially a married man," he joked.

Ethan gave him a small, strained smile.

"Yeah," he muttered, looking toward the exit. I'm officially a prisoner.

---

The sleek black limousine cruised down the quiet streets, the newlyweds seated side by side but worlds apart. The weight of the event lingered in the silence between them. The air conditioning hummed softly, but the coldness between them was far stronger.

Amelia glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He was scrolling on his phone, his face illuminated by the glow of the screen. She turned to the window, watching the city pass by. The bridal bouquet lay on her lap like an afterthought.

"Is this how it's going to be?" she asked quietly, still staring out the window.

Ethan didn't look up. "How else would you like it to be?"

She sighed. "You could at least try to act like we didn't just ruin each other's lives."

He chuckled dryly, finally lowering his phone.

"Ruin?" He looked at her, eyes sharp but amused. "No, Amelia. We just postponed our freedom. That's all."

Silence.

Her eyes flicked toward him. "Do you still love her?"

He didn't answer immediately, just turned back to his phone.

"Do you still wish you weren't here?" he shot back.

She gave a small, bitter smile, eyes on the window once again.

"Every second," she replied softly.

---

As the limousine drove on, the city lights danced like fireflies in the night. Two people sat side by side, tied together but not tethered. Amelia leaned her head against the cool window, letting her eyes close briefly. She'd fought so hard to live life on her terms, but here she was, bound by names, trapped in fate's unwritten vows.