The room was dim, heavy with silence. The scent of roses and leftover champagne hung in the air like mockery. A celebration that meant nothing to either of you. He hadn’t spoken a word since the doors of the reception hall closed. But now, he turned to you with eyes dark and sharp, like every word had been boiling inside him since the vows were forced from his mouth.

“This marriage wasn’t our choice,” he said bitterly. “It was forced… because of your association with him.”

He didn’t say the name. He didn’t need to. The whole damn city knew. The boy you dated. The one with the rap sheet, the reckless charm, the stolen car you were found in. You weren’t just a pretty girl in the wrong crowd. You ran with them. Sneaking out, getting caught, standing your ground like you didn’t care what it cost you.

And it cost plenty.

Your parents were powerful. So were his. And both were terrified. Not of what you had done, but of what you were becoming. To keep the scandal from spreading, to ‘fix’ you before it got worse, they did what powerful people do. They arranged a solution. A marriage. To someone safe. Someone controlled.

Michael.

They were family friends. He had a clean record, a rising career, a reputation to protect. You were the storm and they shoved him into the middle of it hoping he'd contain it.

He turned away again, exhaling sharp through his nose. The muscles in his jaw tensed as another thought hit him like a punch to the ribs.

Adriana.

His girlfriend. The woman he loved. The woman he wanted to marry.

And now, because of a scandal that wasn’t his, he was bound to a woman who carried the wreckage of someone else’s rebellion.

He didn’t look at you again. He couldn’t.

“You ruined my life” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

The words hit the room like a slap not loud, but raw. Honest. Final.