The wedding hall glowed with soft ivory lights, chandeliers glittering like stars caught in crystal. White roses adorned the aisle, and every seat was taken—politicians, elites, powerful families. All waiting to witness what looked like a union of love.
Auren Lys stood at the entrance in a perfectly tailored white suit, his soft chestnut hair brushed neatly to the side, eyes shimmering with emotion. His hands trembled—not from fear, but from joy. Today wasn't just a ceremony. It was the moment his heart had dreamed of since childhood.
He whispered to himself, smiling, "This is real... I'm really marrying him."
His gaze traveled down the aisle to the man standing beneath the floral arch.
Damir Voss.
Tall. Imposing. Unreadable in his pristine white coat, hands clasped before him like a statue carved from ice. His jaw was sharp, his eyes sharper—a glacier trapped in a man's face.
But Auren didn't see the coldness.
He only saw the boy he once knew. The one who used to shield him from bullies, who stood by him when their families grew entangled in dangerous alliances. The one he loved quietly for years. And now… his husband-to-be.
Auren took a breath and stepped forward, each stride down the aisle echoing through the hall like a heartbeat. He clutched the bouquet tighter, his smile widening with every step closer to Damir.
When he reached him, he extended his hand gently. "We're finally here."
Damir looked down at the offered hand, then slowly took it—his touch firm, his expression unreadable.
Auren leaned in just a little, their foreheads nearly touching. "You look beautiful," he whispered, voice trembling with sincerity.
The hall erupted in soft applause, cameras flashing like falling stars, sealing a moment that looked perfect on the surface.
The wedding ended with a kiss that looked like a dream — Auren, flushed with happiness, held Damir's face gently in his hands as their lips met in front of the applauding guests. Flashbulbs burst like fireflies around them, sealing a perfect picture
No one saw the coldness in Damir's eyes.
Later that evening, the luxury car pulled into the gates of their mansion — a towering estate of ivory stone and glass, sprawling lawns glistening in moonlight. Auren stepped out first, his hands clasped tightly in front of him, marveling at the new home.
"It's beautiful," he whispered to himself, eyes wide.
Damir walked ahead, expression unreadable. Every guest had gone. The grand marble doors shut behind them with a soft but final thud.
Inside, everything was silent. Chandeliers hung from high ceilings. The walls were lined with art Auren had never seen. He wandered toward the living room, still holding onto the last fragments of his joy.
He turned back and smiled. "It's like something out of a fairy tale. I can't believe this is ours now."
Damir didn't reply. Instead, he unfastened his coat slowly, stepping forward.
Auren, still seated on the velvet couch, looked up. "Damir?"
Without a word, Damir leaned over him, his lips crashing against Auren's. It wasn't like the kiss at the altar. It was rough. Breathless. Hungry. Not with love, but with something darker. Anger. Revenge. Bitterness.
Auren gasped as he was pushed back against the cushions.
"Damir, wait… I can't breathe…"
Damir froze for a second but didn't move back. "Isn't this what you wanted?" he said bitterly. "The fairytale wedding, the perfect husband, the first night."
Auren looked up at him, confusion turning to fear. "What are you talking about? Of course I wanted to be with you… but not like this. I love you."
Damir's eyes darkened.
"Love?" he echoed, voice colder than the marble floor. "You think this is love? Everything I lost, everything I suffered… It's because of you. And now I'm going to show you what a nightmare really feels like.
He shoved Auren back against the couch again.
Auren cried out, "What did I do?! What did I do to you?!"
Damir's voice dropped into a growl. "You exist. That's what you did."
And with that, the fairy tale began to crumble, leaving Auren in the ruins of something he thought was love.
The next moment opened with Auren standing alone.
He stood in front of the mansion's wide, arched window. Outside, the rain fell like liquid glass, painting streaks across the pale sky. His chest rose and fell gently, but his eyes were hollow. He wore a loose white cardigan now, draped over his soft frame like ghost-white armor. His matching pants clung lightly to his legs. He looked like someone who had stepped out of a dream—and walked into a storm.
There was no one else in the room.
He stared out into the downpour, hands folded together, face blank.
Inside, memory bloomed.
A boy with a scraped knee, standing under a schoolyard tree. Damir. Cold, bruised, but proud. Auren had knelt beside him, holding out a strawberry bandage with trembling fingers. "You'll be okay," he whispered. "You're not alone."
Another time, another place: a younger Damir, too proud to ask for help. Auren had walked behind him in the rain, holding the umbrella even when his own shoes soaked through.
Flashbacks flickered like old film reels.
Auren biting his lip, baking cookies with nervous fingers for Damir's birthday. Getting scolded by Damir's uncle, but still staying beside him. Waiting outside the Voss estate gates during winters, just to say goodnight.
He had loved Damir since they were teens. Every smile, every glance, every bruise he hid. Auren had seen it all. And he loved him still—today, on their wedding night
But Damir…
"Love?" Damir's words echoed like thunder in his skull. "Do you really expect me to love you?"
Auren blinked. His chest felt empty. Rain slid down the windows like it was crying in his place.
He whispered to no one: "When did you stop seeing me…?"
No answer. Only the sound of the storm.
And the pain of a love that never truly began.
The door creaked open behind him.
Footsteps. Slow and deliberate.
Damir.
He didn't knock.
"You're here," Damir said flatly, his voice cool as polished stone.
Auren turned slowly, meeting Damir's gaze with eyes hollow from tears that no longer fell.
"I…" he started, unsure if he should speak. But Damir didn't give him the space.
"We have the after-party tomorrow," Damir said as he loosened the buttons of his shirt, tossing his blazer across a chair. "I don't feel like showing up, but I guess we have to."
He walked over to the vanity mirror and adjusted his cufflinks. "We'll go shopping tonight. You—try not to embarrass me. Wear something normal. Tie your braids up."
Auren blinked. That was all? After what had happened? He opened his mouth, but Damir continued, not even looking at him.
"And don't act too affectionate at the event. I know the wedding was public and all. But if people start to talk too much, both our families will be dragged in. That's the last thing I need."
Auren's fingers curled into the hem of his cardigan.
"So that's it?" he whispered. "You brought me here… for show?"
Damir's eyes flicked toward him. "What else did you think?"
A pause. Sharp. Bitter.
"I didn't bring you into this house because I wanted to," Damir said quietly, coldly. "You're just… a piece of a transaction. A gift wrapped up in a family promise. A symbol to keep people quiet."
The words hit harder than the night before.
And yet, Damir kept going.
"You're not special, Auren. You're not chosen. You're a burden I agreed to carry. So don't mistake this for something it's not."
Auren didn't speak. He couldn't. His chest was hollow, a white echo chamber of love now turned into something sharp and dangerous.
Damir walked past him without another word, heading toward the bedroom door. He paused only briefly.
"You'll be ready by 7," he said. "We don't have time for drama."
And then he left, closing the door with a soft click—so gentle it felt cruel.
Auren turned back to the window, his reflection now barely visible in the fading light.
For a long moment, he stood there in silence, unmoving.
And then, with a voice so soft it nearly disappeared into the air, he whispered, "...You used to smile."
(To be continued)
Thank you for your attention.....