18

He guided her down gently, his hands firm on her shoulders until she gave in and sat on the chair. Elara didn’t resist this time.

The strength she had been holding onto seemed to slip right out of her the moment she sank into the seat.

She shook her head slowly, like she was trying to erase the thoughts crowding her mind, but they refused to leave.

Her breathing was uneven.

Her fingers trembled slightly on her lap.

Alex stood in front of her for a moment, watching her closely. A strand of her hair had fallen across her face, sticking slightly to her damp skin. Without thinking too much about it, he reached out and gently tucked it behind her ear.

His heart aches to see her cry, and deep down he wished to do nothing but beat the hell out of that man. Some men don't even know how to treat good women and it annoys him a lot.

The small gesture lingered longer than it should have.

Come to think of it,it applies to both sides, because some women don't value good men too.

“He left me…” Elara finally said, her voice breaking in the middle, fragile and strained. “To be with my best friend.”

The words came out like a confession.

Alex froze for a second, his jaw tightening as the meaning settled in.

“Fuck…” he muttered under his breath, the word slipping out before he could stop it.

Not directed at her but at the situation, at the betrayal, at the kind of man who could destroy someone like that and walk away.

Elara’s shoulders shook as more tears streamed down her cheeks. She lifted her hand to cover her face, as if hiding would make it easier to breathe through the pain.

“If I tell you it didn’t hurt...” she choked, her voice trembling, “...I’m lying to myself.”

Her words cracked open the silence in the room.

And something inside Alex shifted.

Because he understood not exactly her story but the feeling.

The quiet devastation of having something you thought was permanent suddenly taken away.

He had been there.

He had stood at the edge of something that was supposed to be forever, almost married, already imagined a future with someone.

Only for it to fall apart with a simple sentence, "I’m not ready for marriage."

He never asked for more, never demanded explanations.

Never chased closure.

He simply let it end.

Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

But standing here, watching Elara break down in front of him, It didn’t feel so distant anymore.

“Hey… hey,” he said, his voice softer now, trying to ground her. “Stop crying. He doesn’t even deserve your tears, he's somewhere with your best friend enjoying himself while you're here crying, it's crazy...”

He meant every word, because crying for someone that's possibly enjoying his life is crazy.

Elara lowered her hands slowly, her eyes red, her lashes damp. She let out a shaky breath, but instead of calming down, something defensive rose within her.

“You know what?” she said, her tone shifting. “You won’t understand me.”

Alex frowned slightly, taken aback. “What do you mean? I understand...”

“You don’t!” she snapped suddenly, her voice sharp, cutting him off completely.

The sudden outburst filled the room.

She hated pity, hated the way it made her feel small.

And right now, that’s exactly what she saw in his eyes.

It irritated her.

It made everything worse.

“I…” Alex started, but the words didn’t come out right.

“Your grandma must be waiting for us,” she cut in quickly, standing up and wiping her tears roughly. “Let’s get dressed and get this done.”

Just like that she shut it down, shut him out.

Built her walls back up.

Alex’s expression hardened slightly, his patience thinning.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice colder now. “Let’s get this done. After all, I was stupid to even ask what happened.”

The words came out sharper than he intended.

But he didn’t take them back.

Elara scoffed softly.

And oddly...she felt a little better.

Letting it out, saying it, breaking down, it had taken some of the weight off her chest. She hated that it happened in front of him, but still...it helped.

Even if she would never admit that.

Alex turned his face away slightly, exhaling through his nose. He had tried, just this once, not to be distant, not to be detached.

And she shut him down.

Fine. That was exactly how it was supposed to be anyway.

No emotions. No complications.

“You know what?” he said suddenly, turning back to her.

“What?” Elara raised a brow, her eyes meeting him again, still sharp, still guarded.

Their gazes locked.

Tension filled the space instantly.

“Fuck you.”

Her lips parted slightly before she let out a dry laugh.

“Fuck you too,” she shot back without hesitation, raising her middle finger at him.

The ring on her finger caught the light, sparkling faintly.

A reminder of the reality they were both stuck in, it's just a mere contract marriage, nothing else. Even though he was just trying to make her feel better, she wasn’t ready for that, and at least he did his part.

Alex’s eyes flickered to it for a brief second.

Then he smirked.

There was something almost ironic about the moment.

He turned away from her, his attention shifting to the rack where his suit hung—a perfectly tailored black piece, sharp and powerful, exactly the kind of outfit expected for a night like this.

Behind him, Elara walked over to where her gown was placed.

A white gown, glittering under the soft lighting.

Elegant.

Expensive.

She reached for it slowly, lifting it from the hanger. The fabric shimmered in her hands, beautiful in a way that felt almost cruel.

She sighed.

Not because of the dress but because of what it represented. Even if it hurts that she didn’t marry the man she loves, a win is a win for her.

“Go out,” she said flatly, not looking at him. “I’d like to change.”

Alex didn’t move.

“You’re joking,” he replied.

Elara let out a small chuckle, shaking her head.

“Are you implying I strip in front of you, idiot?” she snapped, her voice rising again.

Without a word, Alex dropped the hanger he was holding, turned to meet her gaze.

The soft thud echoed in the room.

Then he started walking toward her slowly.

Elara blinked. “Hey...”

She instinctively stepped back.

Once.

Twice.

Again.

Until her back hit the wall.

She stopped.

Her breath hitched.

Her heart started racing.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice lower now, uncertainty slipping through.

But Alex didn’t answer.

He kept moving.

Until he was right in front of her.

Too close.

Their faces were inches apart.

Their eyes locked.

Elara swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around the gown in her hands.

His hand moved suddenly wrapping around her waist.

A soft gasp escaped her lips at the contact.

The grip wasn’t rough.

But it was firm and possessive in a way that made her pulse spike.

His other hand lifted slowly, his thumb brushing gently against the corner of her eye, wiping away the faint trace of tears she hadn’t noticed.

The touch was careful, unexpectedly gentle.

And that confused her more than anything else.

Her gaze searched for him, trying to understand what he was doing, what he was thinking, and what this meant.

But his expression gave nothing away but intensity and something unreadable.

“What if I was implying that?” he murmured.

A pause.

His grip on her waist tightened slightly.

“What if I want you to strip in front of me...wifey?”