The wedding reception had begun, and I found myself standing side by side with Kenneth at the grand ballroom. There was a noticeable gap between us, and it must have looked peculiar to anyone observing—a newlywed couple keeping such a distance.
As the guests began to arrive, I couldn't help but notice their unfamiliar faces. It was evident that most of the attendees were either Kenneth's acquaintances or guests originally invited by Ruby. The unfamiliarity of it all only added to my anxiety.
Kenneth's cryptic warning from earlier echoed in my mind, leaving me with a sense of unease and confusion. What did he mean by "you'll pay for the chaos your stepsister has caused"? The fear of the unknown gnawed at me, and I felt exposed and vulnerable.
Just then, a guest approached us—a tall woman with striking crimson hair and an air of confidence that contrasted sharply with my uncertainty.
"Congratulations on your wedding," the woman said with a warm smile, extending her hand.
Startled by the sudden interaction, I blinked and then awkwardly shook her hand. "Thank you," I replied, my voice trembling slightly.
Kenneth, too, offered a polite but distant nod, his demeanor giving nothing away.
The woman's smile faltered for a moment, as if she sensed the tension between us, but she quickly moved on to greet other guests.
I watched her go, my heart pounding in my chest. Beside me, Kenneth remained silent, his expression inscrutable. The weight of Kenneth's earlier words hung heavily between us, and I couldn't bring myself to break the silence.
The reception continued around us, and it was a swirl of laughter and clinking glasses. But for me, it felt like a distant echo. I was trapped in a confusing, surreal nightmare.
The wedding reception continued, and it was a swirl of laughter and clinking glasses. But everything around us seemed to blur into insignificance as a slow, romantic melody filled the air. It was time for our first dance as the newlyweds.
I turned to Kenneth, expecting him to extend his hand and lead me to the dance floor. Instead, he remained motionless, his gaze fixed on the dance floor, devoid of any emotion or warmth.
Without a word or a gesture, Kenneth began to walk toward the dance floor. He didn't look back to see if I was following. It was clear that he had no intention of offering any assistance.
I hesitated no longer and began to make my way toward the dance floor. My wedding gown felt like a heavy burden, and I took slow, cautious steps to avoid tripping over the intricate layers of fabric. I couldn't afford to embarrass myself in front of these strangers.
When we finally reached the center of the dance floor, Kenneth's hand descended to my waist, but the touch was cold and distant. His grip was firm, but there was no warmth, no connection.
"I don't know how to dance," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper, hoping for some sign of understanding or empathy.
"That's not a problem," he replied shortly, his tone devoid of any warmth. "Just follow my lead."
With that, he guided me in a simple, elegant waltz. His steps were graceful and precise, but there was no effort to make me feel comfortable or at ease. It was a dance devoid of emotion, a stark reminder of the cold, calculated arrangement that had brought us together.
We moved in silence for a while, the music enveloping us like a fragile cocoon. It was a surreal moment, just the two of us in the center of the grand ballroom, lost in the melody.
As the music filled the air and Kenneth and I continued our dance, something shifted in the atmosphere around us. Other couples on the dance floor began to join in, drawn by the romantic melody and the shared desire to celebrate love and happiness.
Couples swirled gracefully around us, their laughter and hushed words creating a harmonious backdrop to the enchanting music. It was a tableau of joy and affection, a stark contrast to the tension that defined our dance.
Kenneth and I, however, remained an anomaly among the dancing pairs. Our dance lacked the usual intimacy and tenderness. While the other couples whispered sweet nothings and moved with natural grace, Kenneth and I were locked in silence, our distance impossible to ignore.
As we continued to dance in the midst of other couples, the tension between Kenneth and I remained there. Kenneth's cryptic words continued to echo in my mind, like a haunting refrain. My curiosity and anxiety had reached a breaking point, and I couldn't hold back any longer.
My heart pounded as I summoned the courage to break the heavy silence that enveloped us. I needed answers, and I needed them now. I had to know what Kenneth meant, even if it meant confronting the enigmatic alpha.
"Kenneth," I began tentatively, my voice barely above a whisper to avoid drawing the attention of the other guests. "Earlier, you said I would 'pay for the chaos your stepsister has caused.' What did you mean by that?"
Kenneth's expression remained stoic, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon as if he were lost in thought. He didn't answer immediately, and the silence stretched between us, making my anxiety grow.
I feared that I had overstepped my bounds. But I couldn't back down now.
Finally, he spoke, his voice devoid of emotion. "It means exactly what it sounds like, Maurice. Ruby's actions have consequences, and as her replacement, you will bear the burden of those consequences."
My heart sank at his words. "But I had no part in whatever she did," I protested. "I didn't choose this situation, and I certainly didn't choose to be in this marriage."
Kenneth's grip on my waist tightened for a moment, his fingers pressing into my skin just a fraction harder. "It doesn't matter," he replied harshly. "You're tied to this now, whether you like it or not. It's your responsibility to handle it."