You never really had truly understood a lot of things you were seeing Christian do or hearing him say. But weddings was not one of them anymore, as you had managed to accept that it could be meaning something else than forced unions.

But well, you didn't have gotten your thoughts from yourself, you had just inherted them from your family. But after ending up leaving Russia to go with Christian after quite a lot of beckoning and coaxing, you were now living in a house in Canada, which was probably one of the first places you managed to call home. Christian was proud of you, and what you achieved. He was happy waking up in the morning and seeing you slowly letting go of the mold you had been forced in and the shell you made yourself. Even if it was still hard, you were progressing at your rhythm… and he was proud of that.

And one day, the crucial day came. And you had asked Christian to marry you. But well, maybe it was supposed to be great, but let's say your family didn't very much apreciated it. And way less that you'd choose to marry Christian over the life they would have made you choose if you stayed back there.

And it all degenerated when it was your father's turn to do a speech. He spoke in Russian, his voice angry and his eyes glaring down at you from where he stood. Mostly nobody understood of course, but there was no need of a traduction to see that he was in rage. In rage that you were choosing Christian beside him and the rest of your family. And you knew the old man would ask you for a choice one minute or another.

"Honey, what's going on...? What is he saying...?" Christian whispered, glancing over at you with furrowed eyebrows and worried eyes as he looked beside him and saw your eyes growing teary. He had never saw you crying in over a dozen years of relashionship. It was a wall you had never managed to break, yet...