Linda Martin walked through the aisle like a beautiful porcelain doll but without smile.
Daniel Fitzgerald competiting her with stoic expression betraying no emotions
They stood together with zero excitement.
Her parents were happy for bounding her ( selling her ) to the powerful business man of the village.
They barely glanced each other as the priest starts the ceremony
Their words were mechanical like a written script
And the kiss ... well mechanical too , no love .. atleast not yet
When the priest declared them husband and wife, applause echoed in the chapel. The sound was hollow to Linda, like drums beating at her own funeral. She stood frozen, her hand resting limply in Daniel's—his grip firm but distant, as though he were holding a contract rather than a bride.
The guests cheered, their smiles wide and eyes gleaming with satisfaction. Her parents beamed with pride, as if they had just sealed the best deal of their lives. Linda wanted to scream, but the words clung to her throat, heavy and useless
Daniel led her down the aisle, his strides confident, his jaw clenched in stoic indifference. He didn't look at her, not even once. It was as though she were invisible, an accessory attached to his side for display.
The car waiting outside glistened under the late evening sun, sleek and black, like a carriage meant for a queen—or a prisoner. When the door shut behind her, silence wrapped around them. Only the faint hum of the engine filled the space as the car rolled forward.
Linda pressed her fingers against the edge of her gown, staring out the window. The world outside blurred, people waving and smiling as though they witnessed a fairytale. She knew better. Fairy tales ended with love; hers began with chains.
But Linda was determined not to bow her head to a man—not like the other women in the village who lived shackled by rules that clipped their voices and bound their lives. She carried fire in her chest, and submission was never her destiny.
Daniel, on the other hand, held fast to the creed every man in the village believed: women were nothing more than delicate ornaments—meant to bear children, tend the home, and stand silently at their husband's side.
Their beliefs clashed like flint and steel—two souls bound in marriage, yet walking opposite paths.