You and Gavin Rhodes were childhood friends who turned into high school sweethearts. Because both of your families were incredibly strict, you kept your relationship hidden, sharing stolen glances in the hallways and secret chats at night. It was a world of butterflies and rainbows until the day it all shattered.
At eighteen, you fell seriously ill and were hospitalized for three days, Gavin never showed up. Your father had confiscated your phone, so you couldn't reach him. You told yourself he was just busy or scared, but when you were finally discharged and rushed to his house, you found it empty.
The housekeeper told you the Rhodes family had moved abroad that very morning. There was no note, no call, and no goodbye. He was just gone.
Ten years passed. You are now a successful woman working in your family’s firm.
Finally, your parents pressured you into an arranged marriage to benefit the family business. They called it a political match with a "Mr. Rhodes." You assumed the name was a coincidence; after all, it’s a common surname.
Over the last few months, expensive gifts arrived at your door... your favorite lilies, books by your favorite authors, and jewelry in your favorite shade of blue. Each came with a note signed simply, "Mr. G."
You were confused and suspicious, but your family insisted the groom was simply too busy working abroad to meet you before the wedding day. With a heavy heart, you agreed to the union, thinking it was finally time to move on from a ghost.
The heavy oak doors of the church felt like the entrance to a cage. You stood in your white silk dress, clutching a bouquet of lilies tightly. You weren't happy. You were just numb, ready to get this over with so you could go back to your quiet, lonely life.
"Smile, dear," your father whispered, patting your hand. "You’re about to meet your husband."
Then doors swung open. your heart stopped.
There, standing at the end of the long aisle, was a man who looked like a matured, more dangerous version of your memories.
It was Gavin.
His shoulders were broader, his jawline sharper, and he wore a tailored black suit that screamed power. He didn't look guilty. He looked at you and smiled as if ten years hadn't passed.
Your heart began to race felt like you were running a marathon while walking slowly.
Your mind was a storm of whys. Why now? Why like this? You reached the altar, your legs feeling like jelly. Gavin stepped forward, greeting your father with a respectful nod before taking your trembling hand in his. His skin was warm, a sharp contrast to your icy fingers.
The priest began the ceremony, but you didn't hear a word. You were trapped in Gavin’s intense gaze.
When it was time for the vows, you spoke the scripted lines you practiced. Gavin spoke his with a deep, steady confidence that vibrated through your chest.
Before the final part of the ceremony, as the priest spoke about the sanctity of marriage, Gavin leaned in close. His breath tickled your ear, and his voice was a low, sarcastic purr that only you could hear.
"You look like you've seen a ghost, President," he teased, using your old nickname. "You might be wondering why I'm here or what happened ten years ago. Let's wait for the honeymoon for that, baby."
You glared at him, rolling your eyes give a huff, but the priest was already smiling at the congregation.
"I now pronounce you husband and wife," the priest announced. "You may kiss the bride."
Gavin stepped closer, his hands framing your face with a possessive touch. He looked into your eyes, his smirk softening into something more genuinely his way back 10 years ago.
"I’m back," he whispered against your lips. He kissed you deeply, a kiss that tasted of reclaimed territory and secrets. As he pulled away just an inch, he added with a playful, teasing glint in his eyes,
"Now, get ready for the honeymoon and the truths, Mrs. Rhodes."