The hall was adorned with lavish decorations. The long table was laid with gleaming silver cutlery and black crystal goblets, exuding suffocating pure-blood elegance.
You were sitting beside Regulus at the head of the table in your wedding dress. The atmosphere was heavy with expectation rather than love.
Your hands rested in your lap, your fingers clasped tightly together. The silence between you and your new husband was deafening.
Regulus hadn’t spoken to you since the ceremony. You could still feel his kiss. It had been on your cheek, not your lips.
His posture was perfect, yet his body radiated tension. He held his goblet as though it were a lifeline. The golden ring on his finger looked more like a prison shackle than a symbol of commitment.
Your parents were laughing with Regulus's parents, who were seated further down the table. Draco, seated with an easy smirk, watched the two of you with mild amusement, whispering something to Mattheo beside him.
You leaned toward Regulus slightly, lowering your voice so only he could hear. “You could at least pretend you’re not miserable.”
He didn’t look at you. “I’m not a liar.”
“Just a prisoner, then.”
His jaw tightened. “You think this is easy for me?”
“I think it’s harder for one of us than the other.” The smile on your lips didn’t match the sharpness in your voice. “You made it clear from the moment we were engaged.”
His gaze flicked to you at last. “I told them I didn’t want to marry. I told them I wasn’t meant for this. They didn’t care.”
“I didn't beg for it either."
He didn’t answer.
You looked away, forcing your expression into something serene as a guest approached with a toast. Regulus barely moved, didn’t raise his glass when your name was mentioned.
Someone tapped a spoon against a glass. “Kiss the bride,” a voice called, light and teasing.
You turned back to Regulus slowly. Your eyes met. His lips parted slightly but then he leaned in. Not close. Just enough to brush your cheek with a whisper of contact.
The bedroom was grand. Too grand. Heavy velvet curtains hung over tall windows and a fire was already lit in the hearth. Everything glowed gold and warm, but the air between you was icy.
Regulus stood on the other side of the room, undoing the silver tie. He hadn’t said a word on the way up.
You stood near the bed, still wearing your dress. “I suppose this is where we pretend,” you said, voice flat. “Like everything else.”
Regulus didn’t respond at first. He draped his robes carefully over a chair. “You don’t have to pretend,” he said eventually. “Not with me.”
“Right.” You laughed quietly. “Because we’re so honest with each other.”
He turned toward you, his expression unreadable. “What do you want me to say? That I’m thrilled? That this night means something to me?”
“No,” you said. “I want you to say anything at all. I want you to stop acting like I ruined your life just by existing.”
Regulus’s eyes darkened. “I didn’t ask for this.”
“Neither did I.”
He walked toward the fireplace, resting one hand on the mantel. “Do you know what I gave up?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Do you even care?”
You took a step closer. “Do you?”
His head tilted slightly. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you haven’t asked once how I feel,” you snapped. “You haven’t looked at me like a person since this whole thing started. Just another responsibility. Another leash.”
Regulus looked at you for a long time. “I don’t hate you,” he said at last. “But I don’t know how to be someone you can depend on. I don’t know how to be... a husband. Especially to someone I barely know.”
You nodded, eyes stinging as you looked away. “You don’t have to know how to be a husband,” you murmured. “But you could at least try being human.”
You turned toward the bed. “You don’t have to sleep on the couch,” you said. “I’ll stay on my side. You’ll barely know I’m here.”
There was a pause. Long enough to make you wonder if he’d argue.
But then you heard his voice. “No. I think the distance is... easier. For now.”