𝑹𝒐𝒔𝒂

𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲; 𝗿𝗼𝘀𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗲

When I envisioned my wedding, I imagined a luxurious affair.

A poofy white dress made of the finest silks.
My hair curled into a bun on the back of my head
A man at the altar waiting eagerly to see his soon-to-be wife.

This day, this wedding was about as lovely as having horseshit shoved in your face.

The white dress, despite being silk, was thin and clung to my body.
My hair messily shoved behind a veil.
A man was stood at the altar, but he looked as though he wanted to be anywhere else.

For once, I agreed with him.

"Ready when you are, Rosie," Nic's voice interrupted my thoughts.

Nicholas was my eldest brother, two minutes older than his twin Sebastian, therefore he was replacing my father in this traditional act of handing me over to my husband-to-be.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

The music began gently humming.

I stepped into the aisle; eyes stared towards me.

I've often wondered if there are people in this world who can read minds; see beneath the outer exterior of a soul and penetrate to its innermost depths.

If they do exist, is it not possible one of them sits in this very room. Hearing my thoughts, my pleas for help and doing nothing about them. Sitting, smiling, waving: knowing I am being forced into a marriage with the devil.

Maybe they were forced to marry a bastard the same as I am now, and no one showed them any mercy.
So why should they feel any for me?

I am just another woman.
Another pawn in this twisted game of chess.
One advance, another defeat.

Before I knew it, I was stood in front of the altar.

"Do you, Rosalie Aria De Luca, take Aiden Carlos Mendoza to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward;
for better, for worse,
for richer, for poorer,
in sickness and in health,
to love and to cherish,
till death do we part,
according to God's holy law.
Do you make this vow in the presence of God?"

I do not.

This was a marriage of convenience, alliance. If I became too attached to the idea of love, the idea we could ever be more than business partners, it would end in a way that made me envy death.

"I do."

My head turned to my left, not by far, though it was just enough to see a smirk appear on my mother's face.
She was enjoying every second of this.

The vicar repeated the process, only this time the names were switched.

Aiden's eyes flicked over to my mine, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"I do," he mirrored my words: filled with just as much hatred, just as much anguish.

A strand of hair fell across my face. Aiden did the thing that I least expected, he leaned over gently pushing the rogue curl behind my ear.

"You should really sort out your hair, you look like a poodle."

Dickhead.

☾︎༒︎☽︎

The celebrations had begun.

Dancing.
Drinking.
Drugs.

It was all occurring tonight.

For the first time all day, I took in Aiden's appearance.
His tie had been loosened, and his suit hung perfectly on his muscular frame.