The grand ballroom of the Blackwood estate sparkled under the chandeliers. Everything looked perfect—fancy, expensive, and full of people dressed in their best.

Myra Morante stood near the entrance, her white gown trailing behind her. She looked like a bride from a magazine, but inside, she felt heavy and nervous. Her chest tightened as her father walked over, pride and something else—maybe guilt—in his eyes.

“You look beautiful,” he said gently. “I know this isn’t what you wanted… but it’s what needs to be done.”

Myra gave a small nod, unable to speak. Her eyes drifted to Damien Blackwood, standing at the altar. He looked calm and serious, his dark hair in place, his face unreadable. When their eyes met, there was no smile. No warmth.

The ceremony started. Myra walked slowly down the aisle, each step reminding her this wasn’t a dream—it was real. At the altar, she and Damien said their vows. Their voices were steady, but it all felt distant, like they were reading from a script.

When the officiant said, “I now pronounce you husband and wife,” there was a pause, He leaned in and kissed her — light, brief, and cold. It meant nothing, just a performance for the watching eyes.

People clapped. But to Myra, the sound was soft and far away.

Later at the reception, they stood side by side, speaking only when necessary. Their conversation was stiff and formal.

“I hope everything is to your liking,” Damien said, his voice calm.

Myra gave a practiced smile. “I’m sure we’ll manage.”

As the night dragged on, Myra slipped away to a quiet part of the house. She stood by a tall window, staring out at the garden lit by soft lamps. Everything looked beautiful. And yet, she felt trapped—like all the gold around her was just decoration for a cage.

Damien found her there a little while later. “Is everything alright?” he asked, voice lower this time.

She glanced at him. “I just needed a moment.”

He nodded slowly. “Maybe we should try to get to know each other… make things easier.”

Myra didn’t answer right away. She wanted to believe he meant it, but she wasn’t sure. “Maybe,” she said quietly. “But I’ll need time.”

He didn’t argue. Just gave a small nod and left her alone.

That night, after all the guests had gone, Myra sat by the window again. The moon was high, and everything was quiet. The day had passed, but the weight hadn’t lifted.

How was she supposed to live like this? In a house that didn’t feel like home, with a man she didn’t know, and a future she never asked for?

She didn’t hate Damien. But she didn’t love him either. And the thought of spending the rest of her life this way made her chest ache.

Still, something in her settled. If this was her life now, she’d find her way through it.

Even if it meant finding a way out.

The Blackwood estate was grand and breathtaking, but in the middle of all that beauty, Myra felt painfully alone.

The bedroom she now called hers looked like something out of a luxury magazine—polished furniture, velvet drapes, soft lighting. But none of it could distract her from the quiet. It was her wedding night, and she was completely alone.

The clock ticked steadily on the nightstand, each second echoing in the stillness. Myra sat on the edge of the bed, her white gown spread out beneath her like a cloud. Everything from earlier—the vows, the applause, the polite conversations—felt like a blur.

She had expected… something. A conversation, a quiet moment, anything with Damien. But instead, he had left shortly after the reception.

“There’s a meeting I can’t miss,” he said, “It’s a critical deal. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

His voice wasn’t unkind. Just flat. Like it was all business.

Now, left in silence, Myra wandered the room. She wasn’t new to luxury—she’d grown up with it—but this felt different. Emptier. She tried to read a book, but her mind wouldn’t focus. The soft cream walls and golden accents didn’t comfort her. They only made her feel more out of place.

Outside the window, moonlight spilled across the garden. It was beautiful, peaceful even—but it didn’t settle her nerves. Instead, it made her think. About Damien. About what kind of marriage this would be. Would it always feel like this? Two strangers living under one perfect roof?

After a while, she walked into the bathroom. The marble countertops shimmered under soft light as she removed her makeup. The warm shower helped her relax a little, and her familiar skincare routine brought a sense of normalcy. She blow-dried her hair, brushing it until it felt like herself again.

Next, she wandered into the walk-in wardrobe—and stopped.

Rows of clothes hung neatly in place. Elegant dresses, stylish casual pieces, even expensive silk nightwear. Everything looked her size. Everything looked like her style.

Her fingers ran over a soft blue blouse, then a delicate cream dress. She hadn’t picked these herself. Damien—or someone—must have made sure it was ready before she moved in. She hadn’t expected that.

She remembered the news headline from a year ago:

“Morante Heiress Engaged to Blackwood CEO — Official Confirmation.”

She hadn’t even been told before the press.

Despite how distant he’d been all day, this felt personal. Quietly thoughtful.

She changed into a silk nightgown—pale pink, soft, and cool against her skin. As she stepped back into the room, she glanced at the clock again. Almost midnight.

Feeling slightly more settled, she walked to the small sitting area by the window. A tray had been left there—grapes, cheese, crackers. She picked up a few pieces, nibbling slowly as she stared out at the garden.

The world looked calm from up here. But inside, her thoughts swirled.

Eventually, she returned to bed, pulled the sheets over herself, and sank into the pillow. The bed was too big. Too cold. Still, the exhaustion of the day crept in, and not long after, she drifted into sleep.

The morning sun filtered through the grand windows of the Blackwood estate, casting a warm glow over the lavish surroundings. Myra felt a mixture of emotions as she awoke alone, the absence of Damien on their wedding night still fresh in her mind.

Determined to make the best of her situation, Myra dressed in a simple morning gown and ventured outside to explore the estate. The gardens were beautifully manicured, their vibrant colors and sweet scents a stark contrast to the turmoil she felt inside. As she wandered, she encountered a few maids, who greeted her with polite nods.

“Good morning, madam,” one of the maids said, her voice calm and formal. The others followed suit with polite nods.

“Good morning,” Myra replied smoothly, her tone composed.

There was nothing unusual about the greeting—she was used to this kind of routine. It was how things had always been in households like hers. Still, the thought lingered at the back of her mind: everything was the same, yet different now. A different house. A different surname.

Later, Myra found herself in the study, a refuge from the isolation she felt. She had just settled into a plush chair with a book when Damien entered, his briefcase in hand and a look of preoccupation on his face. He offered Myra a brief, polite nod before taking a seat at the opposite end of the room, burying himself in work.

“Morning, Myra,” he said, but his tone was more businesslike than affectionate.

“Morning,” Myra responded, her voice neutral yet courteous.

The library was a sanctuary of silence, the only sounds the occasional rustle of pages and Damien’s murmured notes.

For a moment, they sat in silence, the air thick with unspoken thoughts. Myra finally broke the silence, closing her book and looking at Damien. “Did your meeting go well?”

Damien looked up, somewhat surprised by the question. “It did. It was necessary, but I regret the timing.” Myra nodded, appreciating the honesty, though it did little to soothe the sting of his absence. “I suppose work takes priority,” she said, her tone careful.

“It’s not just work,” Damien replied, setting his briefcase aside. “I know this situation isn’t ideal for either of us. I didn’t mean to make you feel abandoned.”

Myra’s gaze softened slightly. “It’s just… something to get used to, I suppose.”

Damien offered a small, almost tentative smile. “We’ll figure it out. I’d like to make this work, even if it takes time.”

There was a brief moment where the distance between them seemed to shrink, but it was quickly followed by an awkward silence. Both seemed unsure of how to continue, so Damien returned to his work, and Myra to her book.

Determined not to let her new life consume her, Myra decided to invite her best friend Lydia over to her house. She needed a familiar face and a confidante to share her thoughts and feelings with. She ended up leaving the library and headed to her room to call her best friend. She called Lydia to come over