The unwilling bride

Episode 4

Bella's pov

The bridal dressing room was suffocating. Soft golden lights, delicate lace, expensive perfumes,it was all meant to be beautiful, but to me, it felt like a prison cell dressed in silk.

My stomach twisted as I stared at my reflection. The woman in the mirror looked like me, but she wasn’t me. She was someone else. Someone forced into a life she didn’t choose.

I never thought that there could be a day I would be forced into this kind of situation.

"Scout, watch your back," I muttered under my breath, pressing my fingers into the vanity. My jaw tightened. This wasn’t over.

A makeup artist hovered nearby, shifting awkwardly. "These are your options," she said, gesturing toward a row of gowns. Her voice was careful, like she was afraid I might lash out.

"You can choose a different one or wear what Ella picked."

"Ella." The name felt weird in my mouth now, like it belonged to another life. Of course, they all knew. The whispers, the scandal,the wrong twin at the altar.

I exhaled slowly. "Just pick one." I didn’t care. Nothing about this was mine, so why pretend?

She hesitated, then silently picked a dress.

My father’s hand gripped mine as he walked me down the aisle. His fingers were cold, and I was irritated.

The murmur of guests, the rustle of silk, the soft hum of a distant violin,it all faded into the background. My pulse pounded in my ears.

Then I saw him.

Scout stood at the altar, his face unreadable. He wasn’t nervous. He wasn’t uncertain. He was waiting. Watching. Calculating.

As I stepped up beside him, he leaned slightly. "Smile," he murmured, or you will be punished, he threatened.

A slow smirk tugged at my lips. Punish me? That was almost funny.

The priest’s voice echoed in silence. "Do you, Bella, take Scout to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

I held Scout’s gaze, my throat tightening.

The words almost came out on their own . But I swallowed them. The weight of my parents’ lives pressed against my chest like a stone, but my mouth betrayed me.

"No."

A sharp intake of breath rippled through the crowd.

Scout’s fingers tightened around mine, hard enough to hurt.

I wavered. My lips parted.

"I… I mean, yes."

Coward.

Scout’s smirk returned, subtle but victorious. He had won this round, and we both knew it.

"Do you, Scout, take Bella to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do." His voice was steady, unshaken.

The priest called for the rings. Scout slid the cold ring onto my finger ,a perfect, heavy shackle.

"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

He leaned in. I didn’t move. His lips barely brushed mine before I pulled back, my skin prickling with retaliation.

The whispers swelled, but I ignored them.

A woman approached me as the ceremony ended. She had Scout’s eyes. His sharpness, which I assumed to be his mother.

"Behave yourself," she said, her voice smooth but sharp. "You’re a married woman now."

I tilted my head. "Like mother, like son." I muttered enough for her to hear me.

Her nostrils flared. "How rude," she said.

"If you’ll excuse me," I interrupted, walking away without another glance.

I wasn’t in the mood for an argument and didn't want to create a scene.

The reception was loud ,laughter, clinking glasses, music like the world was celebrating something beautiful. But I didn’t feel beautiful.All I could feel was anger and hatred,and what I needed at that very moment was to get drunk .

I found my way to the bar, my fingers trailing over the bottles. I didn’t care what I drank, as long as it was strong.

If I can at least forget everything just for a day, I will be glad .

I poured myself a glass. One sip and another until i was satisfied. The burn spread through my chest, warm and numbing.

The weight on my shoulders lifted, just a little.

I laughed softly, the sound surprising even me.

"I’m free," I murmured, tipping the glass toward the ceiling. "I’m free!" I screamed without caring about the eyes that were staring at me.

The music swelled. My feet moved on their own, my body swaying to the rhythm. The wine loosened my limbs, my mind. I let myself get lost in it, arms raised, head tilted back.

A hand on my waist.

I shrugged it off and kept dancing.

The hand returned, more intent this time.

I turned, ready to snap at whoever it was, but it turned out to be Scout.

His gaze locked onto mine, sharp and unreadable. Something flickered behind his eyes, something I couldn’t understand.

"You’re making a scene," he said.

I grinned. "Am I?" My voice was lighter, looser. "I’m just celebrating my freedom." I murmured.

Can't I have fun again ?Remember, today is my day.

His jaw tensed. "You’re drunk."

I raised my glass in a mockery toast. Was I? But I was just getting started. I pouted my lips as I swayed my hips to the music "It’s my wedding. I can do whatever I want."

He reached for me. I stepped back.

"You’re coming with me," he said, voice low and edged with warning.

I shook my head. "No, I am not going anywhere”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "You don’t have a choice."

I tilted my head, eyes meeting his. "I always have a choice." I shoved him back. "And my choice is to dance."

I turned away, but he was faster.

His fingers wrapped around my wrist, yanking me back.

"Let go of me!" I hissed, struggling against his grip,but his arms were firm.

"You’re embarrassing yourself." His voice was quieter now, but firm.

I glared up at him. "I don’t care." I pulled at my wrist. "I’m not going to let you control me."

The space between us felt charged.

The music kept playing. The guests kept drinking. But eyes were on us now. Watching. Whispering.