Married

ANASTASIA 

“Ana, Ana. Come on, it’s almost nine.” 

I yanked the sheets over my head to muffle Maria’s persistent voice. “Jesus Christ, Maria, let me sleep,” 

I yelped when the blanket was torn from my body, the cold morning air of the city taking its place.

“Give me back my blanket. It’s so cold,” my words were muffled against the pillow.

“Someone’s here to see you …get out of bed,” maria’s voice dripped with frustration. She was this close to actually hitting me out of bed.

“Tell them to leave,” I muttered, half-awake.

“I raised you better than this, Ana”

“You raised me not to get enough sleep?” she pulled the curtain open, I groaned once the sunlight hit my face.

“To greet your guests and not keep them waiting” she supplied,

“Argh, who the fuck is it?”

“Ana language” she warned.

“Come on, who is it?” 

Mr. Blackwood is here.”  That one name makes me jolt out of bed, stumbling to my feet.

“What?!”

Maria—the househelp rolled her eyes.

“He’s downstairs,” she shrugged, it's a common thing for a billionaire to show up in my living room by 9 in the morning.

“What? Get someone to tell him to leave.” i snapped.

“Like anyone would volunteer to be murdered,” Rita said, walking into the room on cue.

“What does he want?” I muttered through a yawn.

I pressed my fingers against my forehead in an attempt to calm down, and dragged my tired feet towards the door.

“Don’t tell me you are going down like that?” Rita commented.

I glanced at the mirror. My hair had formed a nest, my face was puffy, and pajamas were crinkled.

“Like I’d put in effort to get ready for him. He should see me like this, know exactly what he’s getting into. He’s not going to get a princess walking in designer clothes, if that’s what he thinks.”

I walked towards the living room, my eyes immediately found him in the large room. He was leaning on my couch, in a gray suit and a checkered tie. I look like the servant in my own apartment. His expression didn't shift. His gaze flickered to my hair.

“Read the documents and sign them,” he said, glancing at his watch. My gaze drops to the documents on the table.

“You could have just emailed it,” his gaze shifts to me.

“It’s faster if we read it together. Do you have yours prepared?” 

I nod. On cue, Rita handed the documents to him. He glanced at me before flipping through them.

“They are unnecessary,” he added, still reading the papers.

“They are my conditions.” I continued reading his papers.

“There’s not going to be a wedding. It’s too much hassle. It’s the same thing, name on paper, that’s all,” I added. I couldn’t imagine myself walking down the aisle with Dominic. He would probably still have a cold expression, even when exchanging vows in front of a million guests.

 “Intimacy is permitted in public or in front of a third person only if both parties consent.”

“So I can say no?” I asked, my eyes fixed on him, His jaw tightened.

“Yes,” he said, like the word tastes bad.

“Good” I muttered and continued reading his papers.

“We can live together after marriage.”

“Under the same roof, there's no way we are sharing a bed though” I added, scribbling my signature on the document. He does the same.

Well, that was it. I’m officially married.  

Except there were no vows, no ‘I choose you’, no ‘till the end of the world’, just marriage on paper.  

To Dominic Blackwood.

I reached up to loosen my shirt when it became difficult to breathe.

His assistant stepped forward, and dropped two matching rings on the table. It looks stunning. The stone sitting on the band was unmistakably a diamond.

“You’re not about to put the ring on my finger?” I asked, my voice dripped with sarcasm. He didn't look up.

He picked up the ring, and slipped it on his finger. I did the same, pausing to look at my finger. It feels heavy against my ring finger, heavier than it was supposed to be.

“Keep your end of the contract,” I added.

“I will send someone to pick you up tonight. It'd be preferable if you don’t bring anything,” he said, standing tall in front of me, his eyes lingering on my outfit.

“Did my sense of fashion hit a nerve?”

“Everything you do affects the Blackwood name, dream like the title you will carry” he explained. I rolled my eyes.

“I will be on my best behavior then, I couldn't possibly be seen with a scandalous outfit,” his eyes dropped to my pajamas, but only for a second, then he adjusted his cuff.

“My assistant will have a copy printed for you.” he said, walking towards the door.

It's undeniable, we are married. It's definitely not a bad dream.

“The marriage is only for a year,” i said more to myself than to him. He didn’t reply, just kept walking.

“Everything’s in the contract,” he added. Once he was gone, the room felt empty without the weight of his presence.

“I wonder how you talk to him,” Rita muttered, releasing the breath I'm sure she had been holding.

“He is an asshole,” my eyes glued to where he had been. He hadn't changed much from when we were seven. He still left the room empty once he was gone.  

***

Immediately after i get to the confines of my room, and I dropped onto the bed. A sigh escaped me as I scroll through my phone. I paused, my finger hovering over the screen, over a picture on the screen of the same man who had once gotten down on one knee, confessing his undying love for me, but with his arms around another woman, staring at her like only she existed.

My grip tightened around the phone.

My supposed fiancé,  

the man my father had trusted everything with. The photo felt like a slap from reality.

I switched to my messages, scrolled through the thousands of unread messages from my mother flooding the screen. Each one a thousand reason why I should crawl back to the man who walked into another woman’s arms.

My eyes drifted to the ring sitting on my ring finger, the diamond reflected a faint glow under the lighting of the room.  

It sat there, mocking me.