Cold Marriage

Scarlett’s POV

The suite was beautiful in the way expensive things often were, polished, but cold. White roses stood in a crystal vase by the window, their scent delicate beneath the heavier aroma of aged wine and candles that had burned too long. The bed was enormous, draped in silk sheets that shimmered faintly under the soft light. Everything looked immaculate, arranged for a fairytale ending, for a “perfect” wedding night between a “perfect” couple.

I sat on the edge of the bed, the white robe soft against my skin, my fingers tangled in the fabric as I tried to steady my breathing. My heart hadn’t stopped racing since the ceremony. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Sienna’s face, tear-streaked, desperate, and heard her voice echoing through the church. And then there was Collins’s silence. The kind that said everything words could not.

Now, that silence filled this room too.

I rose slowly and began pacing, the hem of my robe brushing my ankles. My bare feet sank into the thick carpet, each step a reminder that I was now a wife, his wife. It didn’t matter whether there was love or not, the title remained the same. The thought sent a dull ache through my chest. This room, this night, was supposed to be sacred. Instead, it felt like a test, to see how much humiliation I could endure while pretending to be fine.

The clock on the wall ticked softly, each sound slicing through the quiet. My eyes drifted to the door, again and again. Half of me hoped he wouldn’t come. The other half prayed he would.

When the door finally opened, I froze.

Collins stepped inside, still dressed in his wedding suit. His tie was loosened, his dark hair slightly disheveled as though he’d run a hand through it too many times. The faint scent of alcohol clung to him. He looked tired, no, not tired, resentful. His blue eyes locked on mine with an expression colder than the winter sea.

“You’re here,” I said quietly, my voice betraying my nerves.

He didn’t respond. He stood motionless for a moment, gaze sweeping over me briefly before dropping to the floor. Then I noticed the paper in his hand. My fingers curled against my thigh instinctively.

Without a word, he walked closer and held it out.

“Take this. Sign it.” His tone was flat, businesslike, as if he were finalizing a transaction instead of speaking to his wife.

I hesitated, then reached for it. The paper was crisp and heavy. As I unfolded it, my breath caught. The words blurred for a moment, then sharpened. Terms, conditions, restrictions. A marriage contract.

I looked up at him. “What is this?”

“I’m sure you can read,” he said coldly.

I forced myself to glance back at the document, scanning the lines while my stomach twisted.

His voice cut through the silence, clipped and detached. “There will be no intimacy in this…” He paused, searching for a word that didn’t disgust him. “…marriage.” The word came out like venom. “We’ll make occasional public appearances when necessary. And once I’ve secured my inheritance, there’ll be no need to continue this charade. We’ll file for divorce.”

The last word struck me like a slap. My pulse thundered in my ears, the paper trembling in my grip. Still, I forced myself to stay composed.

He stood there, emotionless, as if reciting a speech he’d already practiced. “This marriage,” he said, “is for the families, for the cameras. Don’t mistake it for anything else.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, jaw tightening. “We’re not a real couple, Scarlett. Don’t expect us to act like one.”

Each word landed sharper than the last, cutting deeper until I almost forgot to breathe.

I blinked slowly, setting the contract on the bedside table. “So that’s all this is?” I asked quietly.

He gave a short, bitter laugh. “That’s all it ever was.” His voice grew harder. “My father insisted on this alliance to preserve the Radford line. Your grandmother made sure it was you instead of Sienna. Said you were the dependable one.” He made air quotes mockingly. “Sienna was too unpredictable for the family name. Maybe she was right, but that doesn’t mean I wanted this.”

His anger wasn’t just directed at me. It was at the situation, at his father, at Sienna, at fate itself. But I happened to be the one standing in her place.

Something twisted deep inside me, but I refused to let it show.

I took a slow breath, picked up the pen beside the hotel notepad, and looked up at him. “Then there’s no reason to delay,” I said evenly.

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

I signed my name at the bottom of the page. My hand trembled slightly, but my face stayed calm. When I finished, I placed the pen down and held the paper out toward him.

“There,” I said softly. “It’s done. I couldn’t care less what you do, Collins. After all…” I managed a faint, practiced smile. “We’re not a real couple anyway.”

He stared at me, caught off guard. His lips parted as if to speak, but nothing came out. He’d expected tears, rage, perhaps even begging. Instead, I gave him nothing. And that silence unsettled him more than anything I could have said.

For a long moment, the only sound was the ticking clock and the faint hum of the air conditioner.

Finally, he reached out and took the papers from my hand, his fingers brushing mine briefly. Something flickered in his eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it came.

Without another word, he turned and walked out, the door clicking shut behind him.

I sat back on the bed, staring at the empty space where he had stood. My chest ached, but I didn’t cry.

 The contract lingered in my mind like invisible chains tightening around my heart.

But beneath the humiliation and pain, something stronger began to stir within me.

If this was how Collins wanted our marriage to begin, so be it. I was not going to beg for his love.