The Secret Groom of My Wedding Night

It was my wedding night, and I was supposed to be in bed with my husband—an old man my foster mother had sold me to because, to her, I was nothing more than trash.

I lay stiffly on the bed, waiting for the nightmare to begin.

A rosy pink blindfold covered my eyes tightly. Earlier that evening, after the wedding ceremony, I had discovered the strange tradition of this house: the bride’s eyes must remain shut until her husband had “claimed” her. Fear curled deep inside my chest.

“I only need tonight to escape this mess,” I whispered to myself.

By morning, I would pack whatever little belongings I had left and disappear from this cursed mansion.

Or so I thought.

The room smelled nothing like I expected. Instead of medicine and old age, the air carried a rich masculine scent—fresh, warm, and intoxicating.

The bed beneath me was soft and comforting, almost gentle enough to make me forget the terror sitting in my chest.

For a moment, I remembered the dreams I once had growing up. I had imagined my first night with the man I loved would feel magical. But reality was cruel. I had been sold to an old man. Suddenly, a hand brushed slowly against my thigh... I froze. The touch was smooth, warm, and far too firm to belong to a weak old man.

My breathing became uneven. Then soft lips crashed against mine.

I gasped against the kiss.The man didn’t smell old, He didn’t feel old either.

His lips moved expertly against mine, patient yet demanding, stealing every confused breath from my lungs. My fingers curled tightly around the bed sheets as panic and strange excitement battled inside me, excitement battled inside me. No.

This had to be wrong. This was not what I imagined an old man would feel like. His hand slid to my waist, pulling me closer until my body rested against a firm chest. Firm, Not frail. Not weak, Strong. My heart pounded wildly. “W-Wait…” I whispered shakily.

But the words disappeared when his lips found the sensitive skin beneath my ear.

A soft sound escaped my throat before I could stop it.

Embarrassment immediately flooded me. What was wrong with me?

How could my body react this way to a man I didn’t even know?

The stranger’s fingers tangled gently in my hair while his kisses became slower, deeper, more dangerous. I hated how natural it felt. I hated how my fear slowly melted into warmth. Most of all, I hated the fact that a part of me didn’t want him to stop.

“You’re trembling,” a deep voice murmured against my lips. I stiffened.

His voice. It was young, Not old..., Not even close. My thoughts became chaotic. Was this some kind of joke? Had someone entered the wrong room?

Before I could ask another question, his mouth claimed mine again, swallowing every thought inside my head.

The kiss deepened until my entire body felt weak. My chest rose and fell rapidly as heat spread through me.

I had never been touched like this before. Never kissed. Never held.

The tenderness in his touch shattered every horrible expectation I had carried into this room. At some point, my resistance faded. His hands explored me carefully, almost as though he was afraid of breaking me.

And for the first time in years, I didn’t feel like trash. I felt wanted.

The realization scared me more than anything.

That night, the lines between fear and desire blurred until I no longer knew where one ended and the other began.

Hours later, exhaustion finally pulled me into sleep.

When I woke up the next morning, sunlight warmed my skin.

The bed beside me was empty. My heart skipped. The blindfold was gone.

I quickly sat up and looked around the massive bedroom. No one.

Only silence greeted me. Confusion flooded my mind.

Had last night been a dream?

Then I noticed something lying on the pillow beside me.

A bracelet. I slowly picked it up.

It was dark silver, carefully knitted with black threads and an engraved symbol that looked expensive. Definitely not something an elderly man would wear. My hands trembled. Images from last night flashed through my head. The strong arms. The deep voice. The firm chest. The passionate kisses.

“No…” I whispered. My pulse raced violently. Did I really spend the night with an old man?

Or had someone else entered this room?

Before I could think further, the bedroom door suddenly opened.

I nearly jumped out of my skin.

An elderly woman dressed in black walked in with a respectful bow.

“Good morning, young madam,” she said politely.

I tightened my grip around the bracelet.

“Where is my husband?” I asked immediately.

The woman’s expression changed for the briefest second. Almost like panic.

“He has already left the mansion,” she answered carefully.

Left?

Without seeing my face? Without saying a word? Nothing about this marriage made sense.

“Who brought me here last night?” I asked again. The woman avoided my eyes.

“No one besides Master entered this room.” A chill crawled down my spine. She was lying. I could feel it. Then my eyes landed on the bracelet again.

And suddenly, one terrifying thought entered my mind.

What if the man from last night…

Wasn’t my husband at all?