Clara Harper and Alex Grant's wedding looked like it came straight out of a high-society magazine,a perfect match between two powerful families. Held at the elegant Rosehill Estate, the venue was filled with ivory flowers, gold accents, and soft music under glittering chandeliers. Guests arrived in sleek cars, greeted by waiters in white gloves and a red carpet that led past a grand fountain. Clara walked down the aisle in a custom gown, her face calm and composed beneath a thin veil. Alex waited at the altar, smiling smoothly as always. To everyone watching, it seemed like the perfect wedding. But behind Clara's quiet smile and steady steps, doubt stirred because even the most beautiful weddings can hide the deepest sadness.
After the wedding, the moment the room door shut, Alex's charm faded. The kind, confident fiancé disappeared, and in his place was someone colder, someone who looked at her like something he owned. Without warning, his hands were on her, rough and demanding, his breath hot as he pushed her toward the bed. His touch made her stomach turn, more controlling than caring, his words edged with force. Clara's heart pounded. The silk sheets beneath her felt cold and unfamiliar as she pulled away, her voice barely a whisper, trembling with fear.
"Not yet," she whispered. "I'm not ready." For a moment, the entire room froze. Alex's hands stopped, but the energy in the air changed.
His grip around her waist grew taut, bruising, and Clara could feel the fury simmering just beneath the surface of his composed expression. Then, with mechanical ease, he released her and pulled back, forcing a smile onto his face that was so controlled it chilled her. "Of course, my love," he murmured, cupping her cheek with a thumb that moved too slowly, too deliberately, across her skin. His voice was soft, but it carried an edge that scraped against her bones.
"We have all the time in the world." But his eyes were cold. They didn't see her. They saw ownership. Territory. Clara sat frozen on the edge of the bed, watching him retreat to pour himself a drink at the bar, her body still rigid from the encounter. That was when it sank in, this marriage had no reciprocal love.
*****
The university was full of spring energy with students laughing as they moved between classes with coffee in hand. Liam walked his usual path from the Economics building to the courtyard. He hadn't expected to see Clara again.
But then, he did.
Clara sat quietly on a stone bench under the tree. She wore a simple blouse and cream skirt, her hair loosely tied back with a few strands falling around her face.
Liam paused when he saw her, tempted to keep walking and leave her alone, away from the emotions stirring in him. Clara stood slowly, smoothing her skirt with her usual calm, though her eyes held a mix of softness and hesitation.
"Clara," Liam said, his voice steady though it tightened his throat.
"Liam," she replied, polite and calm. He nodded toward the bench. "Mind if I sit?"
She waited a beat, then gave a small smile. "Sure."
They sat side by side, not quite looking at each other, letting the silence stretch between them until Liam finally spoke. "I saw the news. Congratulations… on your wedding"
Clara turned slightly, offering a cool, composed smile. "Thank you. It's been… overwhelming."
Liam let out a dry, quiet laugh. "I can imagine."
Liam looked at her closely this time, and there it was the tension in her shoulders, the tightness in her smile, the quiet weight in her eyes. "I hope you are happy," he said softly, and this time, he meant every word.
"Thank you." She met his gaze, her own faltering for a second before steadying. "And I hope you'll be happy too," she murmured, softer now. "Someday with someone you love." The words landed between them like a weight, too heavy to ignore. Liam swallowed hard.
Eventually, Clara rose, smoothing her skirt, her expression composed once more. "I should go. My next class starts soon." Liam stood too, the moment slipping between them like sand through fingers. "Of course." She offered one last smile, the kind that would haunt him more than any goodbye. "Take care, Liam." "You too, Clara." And just like that, she turned and walked away, her silhouette growing smaller as it moved down the sunlit path, framed by falling petals and everything that could have been.