Mag-log inIris’s POVAt his command, the fabric pooled at my feet and I stood before him in nothing but the lingerie I had bought with my mother and Maya. The emerald silk had been chosen for this exact night though none of us had imagined it would be seen by anyone other than Marcus. Victor's gaze traveled over me slowly and deliberately, the way a collector might examine a piece he had waited years to acquire. "You wore this for him," he said. "I wore it for my wedding night." "But he didn't see it, did he? Not the way I'm seeing it now." "Are you jealous of your own son?" "I'm jealous of every man who has ever looked at you." His hands found my waist, pulling me against him. "But yes. Especially him." He kissed me then and it was nothing like the kisses I had shared with Marcus hours before. Where Marcus had been sweet and careful, Victor was deliberate and consuming, his mouth moving against mine with the confidence of a man who knew exactly what he was doing and had no intention of r
Iris’s POV I stared at the words until they blurred. He was on the eighth floor of this same hotel. Victor had not only planned for this, he had booked himself a room in the building. I am not suprised he did this. The man thought of everything, and what he didn't think of, he quietly arranged. I looked at Marcus, his face was peaceful, his breathing was even as he slept and his arm still draped across me as though he were afraid I might vanish in the night. He deserved so much better than a wife who would leave his bed on their wedding night and pad barefoot down a hotel hallway to another man's room. He had always deserved better. But better was not what he had chosen. He had chosen me, and somewhere along the way, in a hundred small decisions that had each felt survivable until they added up to this, I had also chosen Victor. I slipped out from under Marcus's arm and reached for the hotel robe draped across the chair. Then I walked barefoot across the suite, opened the door, an
Iris’s POV I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Who would have thought that I would end up having to drug my husband on our wedding night? I was brought out of my thoughts by Victor’s next words. "I want you to solve your problem. This is the cleanest solution. He won't question anything if he's relaxed. He'll believe whatever you tell him because he'll want to believe it. When he sleeps, you'll have the whole night to breathe.""This is beyond insane. This is a crime drama waiting to happen.""It's practical. You asked for my help and this is me helping."I pressed my fingers to my temple. The room swayed gently, a combination of champagne and exhaustion and the sheer absurdity of my life. "Where would I even get something like that? It's nearly midnight. I'm in a wedding dress. My purse contains lipstick, blotting papers, and a granola bar Amy forced on me.""I'll bring it to you. There's a service door at the end
Iris's POVThe reception was still ongoing when I slipped away to the bridal suite.Through the walls, the band had shifted into a slow kind of song that meant people were either getting romantic or too tired to keep up with anything up-tempo. My face ached from holding a smile for four straight hours. My feet had gone numb somewhere around the first dance, which I chose to interpret as a blessing rather than nerve damage.The bridal suite had a vanity with a mirror ringed by those old-fashioned bulbs that made everyone look like a movie star. I sat on the velvet stool and stared at my reflection. The dress was still perfect. The veil had survived Amy's enthusiastic hugging. The ring on my finger caught the light every time I moved my hand, which was often, because I couldn't stop looking at it.Then I stopped looking at the ring and started thinking about what came next.For the wedding night, Marcus had booked the honeymoon suite on the top floor of this very hotel. In a few hours, w
Iris’s POV The priest began to speak, and the words washed over me in waves. Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. I had heard these words a hundred times at a hundred weddings, but they felt different now like an accusation disguised as a blessing."Iris," the priest said, turning to me. "Do you take this man to be your husband? To love and cherish, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?"I looked at Marcus. His eyes were wet, his hands trembling slightly. He loved me without reservation, without suspicion, without the faintest idea that I had spent the night before our wedding thinking about another man."I do," I said."Marcus," the priest continued. "Do you take this woman to be your wife?""I do." His voice was steady now, certain. "I absolutely do."The rings were exchanged. My hands shook as I slid the band onto his finger, but his hands were
Iris's POVI did not sleep for a single minute.I lay in my childhood bed with the covers pulled up to my chin and watched the sky turn from black to gray to a soft, hesitant pink through the gap in the curtains. I kept replaying Maya's face in the restroom, the hollow, awful laugh, the way she said she would be there but not to ask her to pretend we were still okay.Around seven, my mother knocked. "Iris? Sweetheart, it's seven. We need to start getting ready."I sat up slowly. My body felt heavy, as though I had been swimming through the entire night and only just managed to reach the shore. "Coming," I said.The next few hours dissolved into a blur of hands and voices and small, intimate violences being done to my person. My mother curled my hair in careful sections, her fingers trembling with a kind of excitement that made her forget she had already asked me three times whether I had eaten breakfast. Amy arrived first, already crying. "I promised myself I would not," she said, dab
Iris’s POV I stared at Victor’s message for a full thirty seconds before I finally typed a response.We need to meet. It is urgent.The three dots appeared almost immediately, which told me he had been watching his phone, waiting for me to say something. I told myself that did not mean anything. I
Iris’s POVI kept my hand over his, my fingers laced with his, and I watched the city lights blur past the window in streaks of gold and red. I should have felt settled. The dinner was over. I had survived. But Victor's voice was still in my head, his words still pressed against my skin like finger
Iris’s POV The house was bigger than I expected. A wide brick place set back from the road, with a circular driveway and tall windows glowing warm in the evening light. Marcus parked behind a line of cars and glanced at me with a small, reassuring smile. Through the windows, I could see people mov
Marcus’s POVSunday mornings used to be my favorite day.I would wake up to the smell of coffee brewing and the sound of Iris moving around the kitchen in her bare feet, humming softly under her breath. I would lie there for a few minutes, just listening, just letting the warmth of knowing she was







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