Chapter 8

Laura receives a call from Chris, asking her to meet him at a location near her company. She takes a taxi, her heart uneasy, and finds him waiting in his car.

Without many words, she slips inside, clutching her purse, and they head together toward the marriage bureau.

When they step out of the car, Laura grips her purse tightly, her palms clammy with nervous sweat.

The official building looms in front of them, simple yet imposing, and suddenly the weight of what they are about to do presses heavily on her chest.

“Why don’t we come back after the wedding?” Laura suggests, her voice low, betraying her doubt. This feels too quick, too final.

Last night, after Avan stormed out, she had called Chris in anger and desperation, telling him she agreed to his proposal.

Surprisingly, he had only said “okay” before ending the call.

No questions, no hesitation. This morning, they had met in a café, calm and businesslike, to outline the terms of their marriage.

Laura needs the contract—needs it to keep her company stable, to secure her position, to prevent the board from using her gender against her. With the shield of a powerful husband, she won’t be easy prey for those waiting to intimidate her.

“Why? Are you scared?” Chris asks. His tone is calm, almost casual, as if this whole thing is nothing unusual to him.

Laura studies him, baffled. Why would a man like Chris, who could have any woman he wanted, agree to a contractual marriage with her? The question lingers on her tongue, but she swallows it. Some things are better left unasked.

“I’m not scared,” she says instead. “I just don’t think it’s polite to register now, only to come back in a few months and annul everything. It feels… wrong. Maybe we should just have a small wedding ceremony first.”

Chris tilts his head slightly, unreadable. “It’s fine if you want to back out,” he replies coolly. “We can pretend this never happened.” He turns to leave, his long strides carrying him away, but Laura panics.

“No—wait!” She rushes forward, grabbing his arm. “Let’s register it, then.” Her voice comes out sulky, like a child forced to do something she dislikes. Chris, however, doesn’t give her the satisfaction of a reaction. He simply pulls away and marches inside.

As they enter, a newly married couple bumps into them, beaming with joy.

“Oh! Sorry,” the bride says cheerfully. “Are you two getting married as well?”

Laura and Chris remain silent, stiff.

“Or… getting divorced?” the groom asks, raising a brow at their silence.

Laura forces a smile, masking her discomfort. “No, we’d have to be married first before getting divorced.”

The woman laughs. “Then you are getting married, aren’t you, Miss Laura?”

Laura blinks in surprise. “I am,” she answers quickly, grabbing Chris’s hand and pulling him deeper inside.

Thirty minutes later, they emerge with a crisp marriage certificate in hand. Laura stares at the document as if it might burn through her fingers.

“Would you like me to drive you back?” Chris offers casually. Before she can respond, he plucks the certificate from her grip.

“What are you doing?” she snaps, her voice sharp.

“I don’t want you to ruin it or lose it,” he teases lightly, though his expression remains unreadable.

Laura rolls her eyes, annoyance bubbling.

"Bye. I’ll get back to work now,” she mutters, flagging down a cab before he can stop her.

Chris watches her leave, a strange heaviness in his chest. After a few minutes, he slips into his own car. His phone rings. His mother. He hesitates before answering.

“Where are you?” she demands the moment he picks up.

“I’m out,” he replies evenly.

“I just met with Mira’s mother. She’s thrilled that you and Mira are finally tying the knot.

Don’t worry, I’ll handle all the wedding arrangements. You don’t have to do a thing, just be present.” Her voice is animated, self-assured.

Chris exhales, leaning back in his seat. “Mum, I’m married.”

Silence stretches on the other end.

“What do you mean you’re married? To who? When?” Her voice rises, sharp with disbelief.

“I will introduce her soon,” Chris answers calmly. “We registered today.”

The rebuke that follows is long and fierce, his mother’s anger pouring through the line until she finally hangs up, demanding he come see her immediately.

Almost instantly, his phone buzzes again. Mira. He ignores the call, turns on his music, and presses harder on the accelerator.

For the first time in a long while, Chris feels relief.

His sudden marriage will shield him from his mother’s endless schemes with Mira, and more importantly, it will keep Mira from clinging to him, spying on his every move. He dials Josh.

“To what do I owe this august call?” Josh teases when he answers.

“Let’s grab a drink,” Chris says bluntly.

“What? Did I just hear right? Chris Hugh calling for a drink in the middle of the day? Have I lived long enough to hear this?” Josh laughs, genuinely shocked.

“I’ll take care of the bill,” Chris cuts in dryly.

Josh chuckles.

“Now I know something’s up. What’s the occasion? Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed?”

“I got married,” Chris says flatly.

“What!” Josh nearly chokes on his own breath.

~

Speculations spread like wildfire. No one knows who the groom is, and whispers fill every corner of the city.

Soon enough, the wedding day arrives.

Laura sits in the waiting room, dressed in a splendid white gown that shimmers with every movement.

A delicate bouquet rests in her hands, her smile poised though her heart pounds nervously.

She whispers reassurance to herself that she is doing the right thing, this is the path she must take.

But as time drags on with no word about the groom’s arrival, her anxiety grows unbearable. She stands, ready to check for herself, when the door opens.

“Ma’am,” Clara enters, her expression carefully controlled.

“The guests have arrived.” Sharon and Nicholas trail in behind her.

“The groom hasn’t shown up,” Sharon sneers, her voice sharp with mockery.

“I hope you realize the people outside are waiting.”

“Congratulations, sister,” Nicholas says quietly, though his tone lacks warmth. Laura ignores them both.

“Clara, please walk my guests out,” Laura orders coldly. Clara nods, ushering them out, though Sharon throws one last scornful glance her way.

“Where is Avan?” Laura suddenly asks when they’re alone.

Clara freezes, startled. She had locked Avan in his room after getting him drunk—anything to keep him from storming in to stop the ceremony. But how can she explain that?

“I’ll try to call him,” Clara says instead, fumbling.

“Don’t,” Laura interrupts softly.

“I just wanted to make sure he doesn’t cause trouble.”

Before Clara can answer, an assistant enters to announce that the groom has arrived.

Laura’s chest tightens. The ceremony begins. She walks down the aisle alone, each step heavy yet determined.

At the altar, Chris waits in a sleek grey suit, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

When he takes her trembling hand, she exhales shakily and forces herself to smile back.

As they turn to face the crowd, Laura feels a piercing stare.

She follows it and her stomach drops—it’s Chris’s mother. 

The pastor begins.

"Do you, Laura Thompson, take Chris Hugh to be your lawfully wedded husband...”

“Yes, I do!” Laura blurts out, cutting him off. Gasps ripple through the room. She flushes, apologizing quickly, and lets the pastor continue.

Chris notices the tremor in her hands and gently squeezes them. She glances at him gratefully, steadied by the small gesture.

They exchange rings and the vows are spoken. Finally, the pastor pronounces them husband and wife.

Applause breaks out. Guests rise to congratulate them and cameras flashes in their eyes.

Clara hurries forward, whispering urgently in Laura’s ear as she hugs her.

“Avan has been rushed to the hospital.”

Laura’s eyes widen. The joy of the moment evaporates instantly. She turns to Chris, breathless.

“I have to go.”

Without waiting, she hands her bouquet to an attendant, lifts her gown, and rushes out with Clara at her side still in her wedding dress toward the hospital.