Luna returned home, distant and withdrawn, locking herself in her room. Albert, fully aware of his daughter's attitude, swallowed his frustration, choosing patience over confrontation.
Mother Mary, on the other hand, was consumed with worry. She tended to Luna with quiet devotion—checking on her often, preparing her favorite meals, and making sure she had everything she needed. Even in silence, her presence was a comfort, a soft reminder that someone still cared, even if Luna couldn't say it out loud.
As the days passed, the countdown to Luna's wedding shrank. Ten days remained.
Albert and Mary were ecstatic—finalizing details, beaming with pride. But Luna's apathy was obvious. She went through the motions, her eyes dull, her smile forced, her soul somewhere far away.
One evening, the Blackwoods invited them for dinner. Luna arrived with her parents, her demeanor subdued. The spark expected from a bride-to-be was nowhere to be found.
"What's with her attitude?" Dimple muttered under her breath.
Perry glanced around nervously. "Shh, someone will hear you."
Dimple's eyes stayed locked on Luna, who was quietly chatting with Grandma. Then, her gaze drifted to Xander—tall, composed, focused on his phone. Her expression softened.
After dinner, Luna slipped away, stepping out onto the balcony. She stood still, staring at the pool below, lost in a sea of thought.
"It's not deep," a voice cut through the silence.
She turned to see Xander beside her, eyes fixed on the shimmering water.
"You'll end up with a few fractures," he said blandly. "A broken leg, maybe your arm. You could ruin your face. But you won't die."
Luna smirked. "You should worry more about yourself."
Xander met her gaze, unreadable. "All my worries are tied to you." He arched a brow, sarcasm lacing his tone. "If you get crippled, the wedding gets delayed by a few months. That's all."
Luna stepped closer, her voice barely a whisper. "If that's what it takes to get rid of you, I'd take it."
Then she stepped back, her words sharp as a blade. "Not for me. For you. If you want to die or be paralyzed, that's your choice."
Xander's jaw tightened, his voice low and biting. "Yet you're the one calculating the odds."
She didn't flinch. "Yes. For you."
His face darkened as he stepped forward, eyes flashing. "I won't shed a drop of blood for you," he growled. "Don't even dream of a life."
Luna's voice cracked with rage. "Because of you, every dream I had… shattered."
"Stop," he snapped, his voice like ice.
She held his gaze for a moment longer, then turned on her heel and walked away, disappearing into the house, leaving Xander behind in the night.
Xander followed shortly after—but before he could step inside, Dimple intercepted him, a steaming cup of tea in hand. She held it out, her eyes searching his face.
He looked at her, wary, unmoving.
"Are you starting to regret it?" Dimple asked softly, her voice sweetened with something darker underneath.
Xander finally took the tea, silently, his eyes never leaving hers.
Dimple's gaze turned sly. "Why don't you ask her why she's acting like a lunatic? She doesn't even respect this family."
Her words were gentle, but they curled like smoke—intended to poison.
Then, almost conspiratorially, she whispered, "It's like this. I love you like crazy… and she hates you."
Xander's face shifted, discomfort flashing in his eyes. He looked away, refusing to engage.
"I don't have time for pointless conversations," he said flatly, pushing past her.
He moved inside without another word, leaving Dimple alone on the threshold.
Her smile flickered—faltering—but quickly returned. Her eyes gleamed with dangerous resolve as she whispered to herself, voice trembling with obsession:
"Xander… even if you marry her, I'll never give up. I'll be the mother of your child."
The day of the wedding had finally arrived, and the air thrummed with joy and celebration. Guests laughed and mingled under a canopy of soft music, the entire venue glowing with warmth and festivity.
In the bride's waiting room, Luna sat quietly, a vision in white. Her gown flowed around her like mist, delicate and luminous. Though her face was serene, a careful observer would notice the glassiness in her eyes—the effort it took to keep up the façade. She glanced at her parents, Albert and Mary, who beamed with pride and excitement. For their sake, Luna softened her expression. Today wasn't just about her. It was their dream too.
Luna had kept her guest list small, inviting only a few close friends. When Tiara entered the room, her eyes widened, and emotion flooded her face.
"Luna," she gasped, nearly in tears, "you look breathtaking! Like something out of a fairytale. A true princess."
Luna offered a soft smile, grateful for the kindness.
But not all eyes were filled with joy.
Whispers rippled among some of the Blackwood relatives, subtle but sharp.
"It's not that Luna isn't sweet," one muttered, "but Xander is on a different level. She's just... not a match."
"Exactly," another agreed. "Xander needs someone who can match his drive, his brilliance."
Their murmurs floated like a dark undercurrent beneath the music and laughter, casting a faint but persistent shadow over the festivities.
At the altar, Xander stood tall, commanding attention with his regal presence. His sculpted features and piercing gaze gave him the air of a prince—untouchable, unreadable. He didn't smile, didn't fidget. He simply stood, calm and poised, eyes fixed forward.
As the music swelled, Luna appeared at the end of the aisle, her gown shimmering with every step. On her father's arm, she walked slowly, elegantly, the room erupting into applause. She carried herself with grace, though her heart remained heavy.
At the altar, Albert placed Luna's hand into Xander's. The touch felt mechanical—polite but hollow. No spark. No flutter. Just duty.
The priest began the vows, and Luna's nerves tightened. She glanced at Xander. His expression remained stone-cold. Did he feel nothing at all?
Before she could think further, he took her hand. His grip was steady and warm, his movements precise. He slipped the ring onto her finger, the gold catching the light. Applause echoed once more. Luna smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.
As the ceremony ended, her mind spun. What did this mean for her future? Could they ever be more than strangers sharing a life? Or was this all just a beautifully wrapped illusion?
In the crowd, Dimple watched the ring exchange with misty eyes, blinking back tears. Her smile was faint, her heart aching.
As the reception wound down and the photo sessions began, Mother Mary couldn't hold back her tears. She approached Xander, her voice trembling.
"Please," she whispered, "take care of my daughter. Treasure her."
Xander gave a small nod.
Mother Miley joined her, offering her own blessings with a gentle smile. Luna responded with a polite, practiced grin—grateful, yet burdened. She didn't believe in this marriage, but she couldn't deny their sincere hopes.
With the formalities over, the couple made their grand exit. Amid cheers and tossed petals, they stepped into a beautifully decorated car, its exterior adorned with flowers and ribbon. As the car drove away, Luna leaned back in her seat, watching the world blur past her window.
At the Blackwood mansion, Mandy, Xander's sister, welcomed Luna with enthusiasm. She led her to a luxuriously decorated room, bathed in soft pastels and elegant lighting.
"Do you like the room?" Mandy asked brightly.
Luna nodded faintly. "Yes."
Mandy beamed. "Don't worry, the person who lives here is just as wonderful."
Luna gave a resigned smile and sat on the bed. "Of course. Your brother."
Mandy chuckled. "Even if he weren't my brother, I'd still say there's no one like him."
Luna tilted her head, her tone dry. "You're right. I've never seen anyone like him."
Mandy laughed, eyes twinkling. "See? Everyone says that."
Luna rolled her eyes internally, her face neutral, but her thoughts tinged with exhaustion.
Mandy continued the tour, leading Luna to an extravagant dressing room. "Feel free to change into something comfy."
Luna's eyes widened at the sight—rows of luxurious gowns, glittering jewelry, designer shoes—all perfectly arranged. It felt unreal, like walking into a dream… or a cage made of gold.
She chose a soft nightgown and changed, then collapsed onto the plush sofa, letting out a long breath.
As she reached to remove her jewelry, the door opened.
Xander entered.
His gaze swept the room, stopping on the wedding gown tossed across the bed. His expression tightened.
"Take this out," he said, voice clipped. "I'm tired."
Luna sat up silently, gathering the dress without a word.
He turned to her again. "Let me make one thing clear. I don't like clutter. I value cleanliness. Hygiene matters."
Luna looked skyward, clearly frustrated but said nothing. She removed her jewelry in silence, the soft clinking of metal filling the room.