The Death of the Unwanted Bride

The air smelled of medicine. Too overpowering. Burnt my nostrils each time I tried to breathe. The machines beside me, their sole noise preventing me from succumbing into silence. Beep. Beep. Beep. Slow. Weakening.

I couldn't shift. My body weighed me down. I could only just move my head and, when I did, I saw the group of people at the bottom of the hospital bed. My family.

My dad had his arms folded, his expression displeased. Not fear. Not worry. Just displeasure, as if I was wasting his time.

"Pathetic," he growled. "All that upset, and she still didn't get a chance to make herself useful."

My stepmother, sitting beside him, nodded too. She didn't even look my way. She was too busy checking her nails, her voice flat.

"She never fit in here. If she had just worked at it a bit, Thane could have cared. But see what she is now. Nothing but trouble."

And Liora—my half-sister. She leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, a sneer playing at her lips. She wasn't even pretending to be sad.

"Finally," she whispered, her eyes glinting. "Maybe now Father will pay attention to who really deserves to be a Nightingale bride."

I attempted to speak. I attempted to roar. But my lips hardly moved. The sound that escaped me was fragile, shattered. "Father…"

He finally spoke to me, though, not with love. With only anger.

"You've been a disappointment from the beginning, Nadira. Do you have any idea how much I sacrificed for you? And to what? You couldn't even hold on to your husband. You were supposed to be our key into the Nightingales, and instead you embarrassed us."

My chest tightened up. I looked around for someone else. Someone to save me. Someone to love. But all I got were cold stares.

I thought about Thane.

Where was he?

The husband I had married. The husband I had loved quietly, even when he never looked at me. I wished maybe he would appear. Maybe once, he would show up and defend me.

But the door did open, and when he entered, the faint hope within me was crushed.

Thane Orion Nightingale. My husband. Tall, knife-sharp in his suit, eyes like ice. He entered the room with the same peaceful, detached expression he always had. His eyes flicked to me once, then to my father.

"You said she wanted to see me?" He spoke in a chill, near-bored tone.

"Yes," my father replied. "But you can see she has nothing left to say."

I tried. I forced myself to speak, my throat sore. "Thane… did you ever… love me?"

The room was silent. Even my stepmother looked up, interested in his answer.

Thane's eyes met mine for a moment. There was no love. No regret. Nothing.

"No," he said coldly. "You were never the one."

The words hurt more than any wound.

I attempted to breathe, but my chest closed in on itself. My eyes went blurry. I tried to stretch out, hoping—hoping only—that he would take my hand. But he didn't move. He didn't come forward.

Instead, Liora's laughter filled the room.

"See, Nadira? You were never enough. Not for him. Not for us."

"Not enough," my father growled at her, but there was no real anger behind his words. Only control. Only politics.

My tears streamed down the sides of my face. Warm, wet, worthless. I recalled all the years I struggled. I smiled when they mocked. Kept silent when they tore me apart. Hoped that Thane would notice me. Waited for my father to see me as more than a tool.

I was nothing. Nothing to all of them.

The sound of the beeping diminished. My breaths shortened.

In my last moment of breath, the truth hit me harder than anything.

I was never loved. Never chosen. Not Thane. Not my family. Not anyone.

And yet. deep within me, something whispered. If I had a second chance. If fate was so kind as to grant me another try.

"I'd never be their pawn again," I gasped, my voice barely more than a whisper.

The machine beside me let out a long, flat sound.

Beep—

And then silence.

Darkness closed around me.

.

But then—

I awoke with a start. My eyes sprang open.

I gasped, my chest hurting, my body covered in sweat. Everything was different. No machines. No hospital. No cold stares.

I blinked repeatedly, readjusting my eyes. Velvet curtains. A chandelier above. The smell of designer perfume. The feel of a heavy blanket above me.

And then, the weight. The mattress dipped on the other side. Someone was in it.

I rolled slowly—

And stopped.

Thane Orion Nightingale lay out next to me, his arm across my hip, his face just inches from mine so I could sense the vibration of his breathing.

I knew this room. I knew this night.

It was the night I had married him.

My heart pounded in my chest, louder than anything I had ever heard.

I had died. I was positive of it. And yet… here I was. Back at the beginning. In Thane's bed.