Married At Eighteen Who Is He?

...

◉ 𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐚 ◉

I swallowed, the weight of the moment pressing down on me.

I couldn’t understand why I was here, why I was sitting in front of him, but for some reason, looking at him felt like the strangest mix of awe and fear.

Why was he so beautiful?

What was I supposed to do with this?

He didn’t say anything for a while, just watching me, as if waiting for me to say something.

I couldn’t.

My throat was dry, and my mind felt clouded. I could feel the pressure of moment hanging over me, and it all felt like it was happening to someone else.

This wasn’t real.

Finally, he broke the silence with his calm, even voice.

Caelus Di Silvestro (ML)

You’re quiet

Caelus Di Silvestro (ML)

Is that how you always are?

I didn’t know how to answer him. Was that a question? Or was he just stating a fact?

Astria Rodrigues (FL)

*nods slightly*

I nodded slightly, unsure of how else to respond. My heartbeat was still erratic, and I felt a tightness in my chest, as if I was suffocating under his gaze.

There was something about him—about his presence—that made me feel small, fragile. But it wasn’t just his beauty.

There was a darkness in him, something I couldn’t quite place, that made me uneasy.

Caelus Di Silvestro (ML)

Are you nervous?

He asked, his voice smoother now, like he was enjoying the effect he had on me.

I didn’t answer him. How could I?

His gaze softened ever so slightly, but it was almost as if he was amused by my silence, by my discomfort.

He leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers on the edge of the table. The faintest smirk played at the corners of his lips.

I felt something deep inside me tighten. What was this? Who was this man?

He wasn’t just some guy my aunt had arranged for me to meet. There was something more—something hidden beneath that beautiful exterior.

And for the first time, I was scared of it.

The silence between us stretched, long and heavy, as he leaned back in his chair. His eyes never left my face.

There was something unsettling about the way he watched me, like a predator eyeing its prey, yet he did it so calmly, as if everything were ordinary.

Then, he broke the silence with those words—casual, offhand, as if they were a mere afterthought.

Caelus Di Silvestro (ML)

I heard you’ve autism. And what was the syndrome called again... *trails off*

My stomach twisted.

The words hung in the air, heavy with judgment.

Autism

Syndrome

The way he said it, like it was something to be examined, dissected, it made me feel smaller than it already did.

This... this man wasn’t asking to know me. He was asking as if I were some kind of specimen, something to be studied for his own amusement.

Astria Rodrigues (FL)

Asperger's

I finally managed to say, my voice quiet but sharp with the sting of defense.

Caelus Di Silvestro (ML)

Asperger’s *repeats*

He repeated, but there was no empathy in his tone, no attempt to understand.

It was just a word to him, a label, something that didn’t mean anything more than a tool for categorization.

He stared at me for a moment longer, then smiled, but it wasn’t a warm smile.

It was a tight, almost mocking smile, one that made me feel like I was the subject of a cruel joke I hadn’t been told.

Caelus Di Silvestro (ML)

Asperger’s *says again*

Caelus Di Silvestro (ML)

You don’t seem like it.

“You don’t seem like it”—the words echoed in my mind. But what was he really saying?

That I didn’t look the way he thought someone with Asperger’s should look?

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. No answer felt right.

But his eyes never wavered. His gaze was like an unspoken command, pressing down on me.

He was testing me, waiting for me to react. Waiting for me to say something that would reveal more of me, to let him in.

But I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. Not to him. Not like this.

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