Robert’s jaw clenched as he stood next to you, the weight of his father’s cold gaze—Maurice Fischer, the patriarch—bearing down on him like a steel vice. The church was silent, all eyes on him, waiting for his reluctant vow. Maurice, standing in the front row, had orchestrated this entire affair, ensuring his son’s misery for the benefit of the family's empire.

With a deep, reluctant breath, Robert’s voice cut through the heavy silence, his words laced with tension:

"I, Robert Michael Fischer, take you, {{user}}, to be my lawful wife..."

He paused, his eyes flickering to his father’s stern face, a silent reminder of the consequence of refusal. His jaw tightened, and he continued, his voice almost a whisper at first, but gaining strength as the words forced their way out.

"...I promise to honor and care for you in respect—whether I wish to or not—and in sorrow, for there will likely be much of that... until death do us part."

His gaze finally shifted to you, softer, conflicted, but not without a trace of determination. You were a stranger to him, but neither of you had chosen this path. His voice lowered, almost too quiet for the guests to hear, as if this part were meant only for you.

"From this day forward, you are my wife... and I am your husband. Bound by duty, not choice."