I was his stand-in wife until he wanted me for real

I shouldn't be doing this.

The thought came again, louder this time, pushing against everything I’ve been trying so hard to hold together as I stood here pretending that I am not seconds away from making the worst decision of my life.

I really couldn’t do this.

My fingers tighten slightly around the bouquet in my hand, the stems pressing into my palm hard enough to ground me, to keep me from doing something stupid like stepping back, turning around, and walking straight out of this room while I still had the chance to.

It’s just one year, I said to myself. I mean, what could go wrong?

One year of pretending to be his wife.

One year of this stupid agreement, I never should have signed in the first place.

I can survive a year.

I have to, I had no choice.

My throat tightens. I swallow it down and lift my head, forcing myself to stay present.

At the altar.

In front of people who mattered to him.

People who didn’t know me or give a fuck about me. I didn’t care anyway.

I didn’t look at them, I just couldn’t.

If I did, I might start thinking about how wrong this looks from the outside.

A woman standing here in a beautiful, hand-beaded wedding dress, about to marry a man who hasn’t looked at her once, as if she belongs anywhere near his life.

That thought slips in before I could stop it.

So I did the one thing I’ve been avoiding since I walked down the aisle.

I looked at him.

Ethan Blake was already looking at me.

Not the way a man should be looking at the woman he was about to marry.

Not even close.

There was no warmth in his eyes. No hesitation. No curiosity.

Just a brief, sharp assessment, like he’s confirming something he already decided and doesn’t need to think about again.

Then he looked away.

Just like that.

Like I was something he needed to check off before moving on.

Something tight settles in my chest, but I don’t let it show. Because I knew what this was from the beginning. From the moment I said “YES”.

I knew exactly what kind of man he was, and I knew what I would be to him and what the hell I was getting myself into.

Temporary.

Necessity.

Nothing more.

“Do you, Ethan Blake, take—”

“I do.”

He didn’t even wait for the full sentence.

He didn’t hesitate.

He didn’t even sound like he was thinking about it.

The words come flat, like he was confirming a contract, not making a vow.

A few people shifted behind us. I heard it. Not loud, just enough to register.

Even they felt that.

Good.

At least I’m not imagining it.

“And do you, Maya Brooks—”

This was it.

The moment when everything can still stop.

The moment when I can say no.

The moment when I can choose something else.

My chest tightens again, sharper this time, and for a second, everything narrows down to that single word waiting at the back of my throat.

No.

I could say it.

I should say it.

My brother’s face flashes in my mind before the thought can fully form.

The hospital bed, the way his hand felt in mine, was weaker than it should have been.

I was running out of time and options.

My grip on the bouquet tightens just enough to hurt.

That’s all it took.

“I do.”

The words leave my mouth steadily.

It was done, I’m married.

Ethan took a step back away from me. That was the first real movement he made after this circus was over.

I lower my hands slowly, placing the bouquet down without looking at where it lands, because I didn’t care.

There’s nothing here that belongs to me.

The door closed behind us, and Ethan didn’t speak again. He walks further into the room, already loosening his cufflinks, setting them down like this is the part of his day he’s been waiting to get past.

Like the wedding was just something in the way.

I watch him for a second, really watch him now that there was nothing else pulling my attention away.

“You will never be her.”

He says it without turning around.

I exhale slowly, shifting my weight slightly as I take a step further inside, not staying near the door like I’m waiting for permission to exist here.

“I didn’t think I was,” I reply, keeping my voice even.

He glances at me then, briefly, his eyes sharp, searching for something.

He doesn’t find it.

“Good,” he says. “Then we won’t have any misunderstandings.”

Then I nod once.“That works for me.”

It actually does because I didn’t come here expecting anything else.

“You’ll stay out of my way,” he continues, turning slightly now, his attention fully on me for the first time since we walked in. “You won’t involve yourself in anything that doesn’t concern you.”

“I won’t.”

“You won’t ask questions.”

“I don’t intend to.”

Another pause.

His gaze lingers a second longer this time.

Like he’s testing whether I mean it.

“You won’t mistake this for anything more than what it is.”

That one lands differently.

I hold his gaze for a moment before answering. “I won’t.”

He studies me, then nods once, like he’s satisfied with that.

“You’ll use the room next door.”

Of course I will.

I didn’t argue, I didn’t ask anything else. I turned and walked toward the second door, pushing it open without hesitation. I step in slowly, letting the silence settle around me.

Then I saw it.

A photograph was placed on the dresser. I walked towards it without thinking. I didn’t need to be closer to know what it was because knowing isn’t the same as seeing.

When I stopped in front of it, everything confirmed itself.

Ethan.

And her.

She stood close to him. And he was looking at her.

Something tight shifted in my chest, but I don’t let it settle. I lifted my hand slightly. But before I could reach it, his hand closed around my wrist.

“Don’t you dare!” He said

I glance at the photo, then back at him. “I wasn’t going to take it,” I said.

His grip tightens slightly, just enough to make sure I feel pain, before letting go. He reaches past me, picks up the photo, and sets it further back on the dresser.

“Don’t touch what isn’t yours,” he says. His eyes met mine, and he stepped closer towards me. “That includes me.”