EPISODE 2 — The Groom Who Came Too Late
The sun was rising.
Slowly.
Almost unwillingly.
A soft golden light slipped through the curtains, stretching across the quiet room, touching the edge of the bed… the table… the mirror…
But Smithen didn't notice any of it.
Because his mind was somewhere else entirely.
"Oh no…"
He suddenly sat up halfway, his thoughts crashing into him all at once.
"If I don't sleep now…"
His eyes widened.
"…I'll get dark circles tomorrow."
A pause.
"And if I get dark circles…"
His expression turned serious, almost dramatic.
"…I definitely won't be able to attract my hero—Viran."
A soft, excited laugh escaped him.
He covered his face with his hands, rolling slightly on the bed like someone who couldn't contain his own happiness.
"Tomorrow…" he whispered.
"No… today."
But sleep?
Sleep refused to come.
It was already 2:00 AM.
He turned to the right.
Closed his eyes.
Counted numbers.
"1… 2… 3… 4…"
Opened his eyes.
Turned to the left.
Closed them again.
"1… 2… 3…"
Opened them again.
"…Why am I not sleeping?!"
His thoughts didn't stop.
They only grew louder.
How will Viran react?
Will he look at me?
Will he say something?
What if I look weird?
Am I overweight?
He immediately sat up again.
Pulled at his shirt.
Looked down at himself.
"…Do I look overweight?"
He leaned toward the mirror.
Tilted his head.
Examined his face carefully.
"…No…"
A pause.
"…Right?"
He frowned slightly.
Then shook his head.
"Why am I thinking all this nonsense…"
Another pause.
"…but still…"
A small smile appeared.
Shy.
Soft.
Completely sincere.
"…I want to look good for him."
He fell back onto the bed again.
Staring at the ceiling.
Heart racing.
Mind restless.
Minutes passed.
Then more.
Nothing changed.
Finally—
Smithen let out a long breath.
"I guess…"
"…I don't have any other option."
Slowly—
very slowly—
he rolled his eyes to the left.
There it was.
A dark black drawer.
Quiet.
Still.
Beside it, the night lamp glowed faintly, its golden light falling over the drawer as if highlighting it… as if reminding him of its presence… its purpose.
Smithen stared at it for a few seconds.
Then reached out.
He pulled it open.
The soft sliding sound broke the silence of the room.
Inside—
a small bottle.
Sleeper tablets.
He picked it up carefully.
Looked at it.
Then opened it.
One pill.
He placed it on his tongue.
Swallowed.
Closed his eyes again.
Silence.
Nothing.
His thoughts didn't stop.
His heart didn't slow.
His body didn't relax.
"…Seriously?"
He opened his eyes again, frustrated.
"This is nonsense…"
He turned his head slightly.
Looked at the bottle again.
"I guess I really don't have any other option…"
His voice was softer now.
More determined.
"I have to look the prettiest groom…"
"…standing next to him tomorrow."
He took another pill.
Then paused.
Blinking once.
Then twice.
"…Wait."
A faint realization crossed his face.
"This isn't even the second…"
A small, almost guilty smile appeared.
"…this is the third."
Because the first—
he had taken earlier.
Before his mother and brother even came to tell him about the marriage.
Back when he had already been in a deep sleep.
"…Whatever."
He didn't think further.
He swallowed it.
And this time—
sleep came.
Instant.
Heavy.
Complete.
Morning.
9:00 AM.
Downstairs, Arin stood fully dressed.
Sharp.
Composed.
"Did Smithen leave?" he asked casually.
The maid hesitated.
"I'm not sure, sir… I haven't seen him."
She paused.
"Should I check his room? Usually we don't disturb him on weekends… but today is—"
Arin chuckled.
"He must have left early."
A faint grin appeared on his face.
"He wouldn't have the audacity to sleep today."
So he waved it off.
"No need to check."
And just like that—
they left.
9:40 AM.
Mabthi Auditorium.
The hall stood grand.
Decorated.
Prepared.
But quiet.
Too quiet.
No crowd.
No noise.
No celebration.
Only a few people.
A priest.
Selected bodyguards.
Viran's mother.
Smithen's mother.
Arin.
And one absence.
Smithen.
Arin checked the time.
Again.
And again.
"Why isn't he here?"
Calls were made.
Repeatedly.
No answer.
Tension began to rise.
"Call the house," Arin said.
The assistant dialed.
"Hello, Viran sir—" the maid answered nervously.
"Is Smithen in his room?" the assistant asked quickly.
"I'll check—"
She ran.
Upstairs.
Fast.
The steps echoed loudly.
Her heartbeat matched the rhythm.
She reached the door.
Pushed it open.
And froze.
Smithen—
was still sleeping.
Deep.
Unmoving.
"Oh my god…"
"What?!" Smithen's mother's voice came through the phone.
"Wake him up immediately!" Arin shouted.
"Tell him to come here in 10 minutes—two-wheeler, anything! If he takes a car, he won't make it!"
The maid rushed forward.
"Young master!"
Smithen jerked awake.
"What…?"
His voice was thick with sleep.
"What time is it?"
"9:40!"
Silence.
Then—
"What the hell?!"
Everything exploded into motion.
He ran.
Straight to the bathroom.
Didn't say another word.
Water splashed.
Fast.
Cold.
Rushed.
He grabbed the suit his mother had given him.
Golden.
Rich.
Embroidered with platinum and gold.
Diamond buttons catching the light.
He wore it—
quickly.
Messily.
Didn't tuck it properly.
Didn't fix the collar.
Didn't check the mirror.
One shoe on his foot.
The other in his hand.
No socks.
He ran out.
Didn't stop.
Didn't think.
He grabbed the maid's two-wheeler.
Since there wasn't any other one available at standby.
Started it.
And sped off.
The wind hit his face.
Sharp.
Awakening.
His heart raced wildly.
"Don't be late…"
"Don't be late…"
"Don't be late…"
10:07 AM.
He reached.
Breathing heavily.
Hair messy.
Clothes slightly disordered.
And then—
He saw him.
Viran.
Standing there.
Perfect.
The same suit.
Clean.
Sharp.
Untouched.
As if nothing in the world could disturb him.
Yet—
there was something else.
A dangerous aura.
Cold.
Heavy.
Smithen froze.
His gaze locked onto him.
And it didn't move.
Not once.
Even when he stepped forward.
Even when the ceremony began.
Even when the priest spoke.
Smithen never stopped looking at him.
Viran—
didn't look back.
Not once.
He glanced at his watch.
A flicker of irritation crossed his face.
"…Let's proceed."
The ceremony moved quickly.
Rings exchanged.
No conversation.
No pause.
Smithen's hand trembled slightly—
but his eyes…
remained on Viran.
Admiring.
Focused.
Unwavering.
A single photograph was taken.
And then—
Viran spoke.
"Is it done?"
A pause.
"Can I leave now?"
Smithen didn't react.
Not because he didn't hear.
But because he was still…
looking at him.
Still taking him in.
Still overwhelmed.
He is my husband…
That thought alone filled him completely.
Viran turned.
Left.
Without another word.
Without a glance.
And still—
Smithen's eyes followed him.
Until he disappeared.
Only then—
did he blink.
But the smile on his face remained.
He was happy.
Truly.
Deeply.
Because for him—
this was enough.
"Don't worry, dear."
A gentle voice interrupted.
Viran's mother stood beside him.
She reached out—
and softly patted his head.
"He's a workaholic," she said kindly. "You don't need to worry."
Smithen nodded.
Still smiling.
"I've already prepared your wedding house," she continued.
"You both will stay there."
Smithen listened.
But his mind was still somewhere else.
With him.
With Viran.
Still replaying every second.
Still holding onto that moment.
Still… not understanding anything else.
Because what awaited him—
in that house—
was not what he imagined.
And what this marriage would become—
was far from what he dreamed.
Because sometimes—
loving someone completely…
is only the beginning of losing yourself.