Forced Together

Morning light spilled into the room, the golden rays painting the white curtains with warmth I couldn’t feel. I had barely slept. The events of last night replayed in my mind like a haunting lullaby that refused to end. My wedding day had passed, but the reality of my new life had only just begun.

A soft knock came at the door. Before I could answer, the door opened and Michael stepped in. He was dressed sharply in a grey suit, hair perfectly styled, as if the tension of yesterday had never existed.

“We’re leaving in thirty minutes,” he said plainly.

I blinked. “Leaving? For where?”

“My father insists we attend the merger announcement together,” he replied, his tone clipped. “You’re the new Mrs. Michael Adedayo now. You’ll stand beside me and smile like this is exactly what you wanted.”

A bitter laugh almost escaped me. “You mean pretend.”

His eyes met mine, and for a moment, something unreadable flickered there. “Call it whatever you want. Just… don’t make this harder than it already is.”

I wanted to argue, to tell him that I had been the one forced into this mess, but instead, I bit back my words. We had both been trapped, after all.

Thirty minutes later, we were in his sleek black car, the city passing in a blur outside the tinted windows. The silence between us was thick, each of us lost in our own thoughts. I stole a glance at him—his strong jaw set, hands gripping the steering wheel. He looked like a man on a mission, but I couldn’t tell if it was for the business… or for survival.

The event hall was already buzzing when we arrived. Cameras clicked, reporters swarmed, and flashes lit up the carpet. Michael reached for my hand, his grip firm—not gentle, but not cruel either.

“Smile,” he reminded me, just as he had last night.

I curved my lips into a practiced smile, the one I’d perfected in front of a mirror years ago. We walked in together, a perfect picture of unity. The media would write about how stunning we looked, how powerful we appeared—two dynasties united. None of them would know the truth.

During the press conference, Michael’s arm rested lightly at my back, guiding me from one handshake to the next. Our fathers basked in the attention, congratulating themselves on their success. Meanwhile, I felt like a beautiful prop in an elaborate show.

Afterwards, we slipped into a private lounge. Michael loosened his tie, sinking into a chair with a sigh. “You did well,” he said quietly.

“Like a trained actress?” I replied, unable to hide the sarcasm.

His lips twitched, almost into a smile, but it didn’t quite happen. “You think I enjoy this any more than you do?”

I hesitated. “I think you’ve had years to prepare for this kind of life. I didn’t.”

He leaned forward, his gaze piercing. “You think I wasn’t prepared for love instead of duty? I had plans too, Christabel. But they don’t matter anymore. This—” he gestured between us—“is the reality now. And if we’re going to survive it, we can’t be enemies.”

Something in his voice softened the sharp edges in my chest. For the first time, I saw him not as the cold groom who barely touched my hand, but as someone just as cornered as I was.

The ride back was quieter, but less tense. Still, the moment we stepped into the estate, his father called for him, and he disappeared into the study. I was left in the vast, echoing house, feeling like an outsider in my own life.

That evening, dinner was a formal affair. We sat across from each other at a long dining table, servants gliding in and out with silver trays. Neither of us spoke much, but every now and then, our eyes met. It wasn’t warmth—not yet—but it also wasn’t the coldness of yesterday.

When the plates were cleared, Michael stood. “Tomorrow, we start making public appearances together. Charity events, interviews, dinners. They’ll be watching us, Christabel. We can’t give them anything to use against us.”

I nodded slowly. “Then we play the perfect couple.”

His expression hardened slightly, but there was an almost imperceptible hint of agreement in his eyes. “Exactly.”

That night, I lay awake again, staring at the ceiling. We were bound together by duty, trapped in the same cage. But as much as I hated it, I knew one thing—if we were going to be forced together, I needed to learn how to navigate this prison.

Because survival, I realized, wasn’t just about enduring Michael.

It was about enduring myself.

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