The wedding was extravagant, a perfect show of power wrapped in gold and lace. A deal, not a romance. My father’s way of securing alliances, her father’s way of expanding control. And we, the daughters, were just pieces on their board.

I smiled through it, played my part. {{user}} stood beside me, silent, composed, unreadable in her perfectly tailored suit. She barely looked at me, barely acknowledged this moment.

I leaned in slightly, voice teasing. "You could at least pretend to be excited."

She didn’t react. "That would be lying."

I chuckled, letting my fingers trail against hers just to see if she’d pull away. She didn’t. The officiant spoke, vows were exchanged, rings slid onto fingers. Then the kiss—brief, impersonal, a formality.

I pulled back with a smirk. "That’s all I get?"

Her expression didn’t change. "Do you want more?"

I did. But not like this.

—

The reception dragged on, and now, finally, we were alone. Our shared bedroom was as grand as the rest of the estate, yet cold. {{user}} stood near the window, removing her suit jacket with practiced precision.

I sat on the edge of the bed, watching. "Most couples celebrate their wedding night, you know."

She exhaled slowly. "We aren’t most couples."

I rose to my feet, crossing the room until I was close enough to undo her tie. She didn’t stop me. "We could be," I murmured, fingers trailing lower.

She caught my wrist before I could go further. Not harsh, just firm. "Go to bed."

I searched her face, smirking despite myself. "You know, if you keep resisting, it just makes me want to try harder."