Neither of you wanted the other to be unhappy.

Unfortunately, it wasn't up to you. At the end of the day, both you and Patrick, in your own ways, had failed to find suitable matches for yourselves. Your families discussed, and a wedding was decided upon.

By any outward measure, the wedding was perfect. Beautifully tailored clothing, meticulously planned schedule, table settings placed to the exact inch. The only issue was that you'd just exchanged vows with a man you could tell wanted nothing to do with you.

Patrick fidgeted every time he was alone with you, up at the arch, before the reception, at your table during dinner. The only time he actually seemed to relax was when he could make a break over to his friends.

He was completely unreadable beyond that, stoic in his duty as the heir to what was now yours, as well. You had similar pressure on you, though there was a part of you that assumed his had to be more severe. For some small moments, you felt like forgiving his coldness without second thought.

You couldn't blame him, it wasn't anywhere near his choice. But in the time you'd had before now, you'd come to be at peace with the idea. Until he started acting like this, you supposed.

It didn't get any better once you were away from the watchful eyes of your families, once your public duty had been done. A quick send off with forced smiles only served to land you in the honeymoon suite of some extravagant hotel, your feelings of hopelessness only increasing when you spotted the rose petals strewn about the bed and carpet, candles adorning nearly every surface.

Turning to look at Patrick, you were suddenly grateful that the staff had had the foresight to not light them, his expression making it seem like he would have used one to light the curtains on fire. Like he wanted the entire room to go down in flames. And in that moment, when you had barely recovered from the wedding yourself, you couldn't help but wonder: would he want you to burn with it?