POV Esther
Everything happened too fast. Or maybe too slowly. I couldn't say.
Applause echoes around us, voices mingle, smiles multiply. Everyone looks happy. Relieved. As if something had finally come to an end. Me, I feel… empty. And heavy at the same time. The kiss on my forehead is still burning. A tender gesture. Protective. A gesture that made my body shiver despite myself.
Madame.
That word loops endlessly in my mind. Madame Esther Tony Arrison. My lips tremble slightly, but no one notices. Or maybe no one wants to notice. My heart is beating too fast.
I meet my father's gaze. He smiles at me. A proud smile. Moved. My mother discreetly wipes away a tear. The aunts murmur blessings. Leila looks at me for a long time. Too long. Her gaze is soft… but worried. She knows. She has always known how to read me.
I lower my eyes to my hands. The henna is still dark, almost burning on my skin. Tony's name is there. Written on my palm. I feel a surge of anger rise in my stomach. I didn't want this.
My wedding ring shines on my finger. A perfect circle. With no escape.
We barely step down the steps before everyone gathers around us to congratulate us. Voices overlap. Smiles. Hands reaching out.
My father-in-law—or rather… my second dad—briefly pulls me into a warm hug and says kindly:
— Finally, you're one of us now.
My father answers immediately, his voice emotional:
— Jon, I entrust my daughter to you. Take care of her.
— We will treat her like our daughter, not like a daughter-in-law, Jon replies without hesitation. Because that's what she is now.
I smile faintly.
Then I feel my mother's gaze on me. A heavy gaze. Inquisitive. I know her too well. She won't let this go. She slightly narrows her eyes before asking, in a firm voice:
— So, Esther… why did you arrive late?
She pauses.
— Mina said you weren't there when she came back.
My stomach tightens. I feel all the eyes turn toward me. I don't know whether I should tell the truth. Or lie.
— I… I… My voice breaks.
— It's fine, no need to explain yourself, my father-in-law intervenes calmly. Asael, the important thing is that she's here.
— But… she insists.
— It's fine, Asael, my father repeats, nodding. Jon is right. She's here. That's all that matters.
My mother finally lets it go, reluctantly. Even though she won't stop there.
Suddenly, I feel a burning gaze on my back. I turn around.
Tony.
He's staring at me with a troubling intensity. A deep, attentive look… almost unsettling.
— Alright, we can go now, my father-in-law announces.
I nod.
Everyone leaves. Everyone.
Only Tony and I remain, alone in the now-silent room. I'm not going to stay alone with him, so I decide to leave when—
— Wait.
His deep voice stops me cold. I slowly turn toward him.
He's standing right in front of me, impeccably dressed in his perfectly tailored dark suit. The jacket fits his broad frame, the white shirt slightly open at the collar, the tie perfectly knotted. He has that calm, controlled… and charming presence.
But his shoulders are tense.
I have to admit he's incredibly handsome… but what am I thinking?!
I slightly shake my head, my cheeks warmed by a sudden heat, and blink to chase those absurd thoughts from my mind.
— Why were you late? His voice yanks me brutally out of my thoughts.
I instinctively lower my eyes. It's stronger than me. Me, who never lowers my gaze before anyone, suddenly feel vulnerable, as if every heartbeat were exposed to him.
— Look at me, Esther, he continues, his voice firmer, almost icy. I asked you a question… and I don't like repeating myself.
A shiver runs through me. His seriousness, his presence… everything about him freezes me. I swallow hard.
— I… I… The words refuse to come out.
Damn, he's annoying.
So, without thinking, I blurt out:
— How is that any of your concern?
Silence falls.
He says nothing. Not yet. His gaze darkens.
— What did you just say? he asks calmly.
Too calm for my liking.
— I said… what business is it of yours?
He sketches a slow smile. Icy.
He steps closer. Then another. Until he's standing right in front of me. Even with my heels—at least eight centimeters—I'm tiny compared to him. His scent envelops me immediately.
— Listen to me carefully, Esther, he murmurs. From the moment you said "yes," he says slowly, everything that concerns you concerns me. Whether you like it… or not.
Those words hit me like an electric shock. My heart accelerates uncontrollably. I feel a strange heat crawl up my neck, my hands become damp. I swallow hard, unable to look away. His eyes pin me in place. I'm unable to move.
He steps half a step closer. I can feel his presence. Crushing.
— And let me tell you one thing, he adds, his voice still calm… dangerously calm.
— I have a holy hatred of being challenged. I tolerate many things, he continues, jaw clenched. But insolence, lies… and disrespect, no. He tilts his head slightly, as if analyzing me. Never force me to remind you.
Those words steal my breath. Not because he shouts. Not because he threatens. But because he's sure of himself. And because I understand, at that precise moment, that he's not bluffing.
I clench my fists to keep from trembling more. Part of me wants to respond. Protest. Rebel. But no sound comes out.
And I hate that.
I hate that he has this effect on me.
I slowly lift my chin. My heart is still racing, but I refuse to give him the show of my fear. I lock my gaze onto his. My fingers tighten against the fabric of my dress, my nails digging in to keep myself from stepping back.
— If you think saying "yes" turned me into a thing, a possession, then you're seriously mistaken, Tony.
A short breath escapes me, but I continue.
— You can demand respect. Not obedience. And even less silence. My chest rises rapidly. I feel adrenaline pulse through my veins, a burning heat gradually replacing fear.
— I'm your wife on paper, yes. My voice grows firmer. Not your soldier. Not your trophy. And certainly not someone you can intimidate.
I pause, just long enough for him to understand I'm not done.
— So if you hate being challenged…
A slight smile, nervous but real, curves my lips.
— You'll have to get used to it, because there's no way I'm becoming your submissive.
The silence that follows is heavy. Dangerous.
I know it from the way his eyes darken.
His eyes narrow imperceptibly. A slow, sharp smile stretches his lips. Not an amused smile. A predator's smile.
He doesn't shout. He doesn't raise his voice.
— Interesting, he murmurs.
He tilts his head slightly, sizing me up like a calculated risk.
— Do you know what I admire about you, Esther? he murmurs, stepping half a step closer. I almost feel his warmth brush my face.
— You still haven't understood who you're talking to… and yet, you dare stand up to me.
His gaze slides, for a fraction of a second, over my lips, then lifts again, hard, merciless.
He leans slightly toward me. I feel his warm breath brush my skin. Too close. Far too close. Our faces are separated by only a few centimeters, and yet every movement seems suspended in time.
Then he leans in a little more, so close I could almost feel his heartbeat. His voice drops, soft but deep, almost a whisper in my ear:
— And that… that unsettles me more than you can imagine, Esther.
A shiver runs through my body. My heart races. His breath against my skin is a mix of threat and warmth, fear and attraction.
— But never confuse the fact that I let you speak…
His voice grows lower. Slower.
— with the idea that you have control.
The silence becomes suffocating. Too close. Too intense.
I'm about to respond when—
— TONY!
A voice bursts out behind me.
I flinch. Tony straightens immediately.
I turn around and see a man approaching us with a loud, warm laugh, completely clashing with the tension still lodged in my chest. Light-colored suit, tie slightly askew, far too relaxed for someone who just interrupted a moment like that.
The man approaches us, a wide grin on his face, clearly very proud of himself.
— Tony Arrison… Tony Arrison is finally married, he declares, opening his arms as if announcing a historic event.
— Seriously… who would've thought?
He looks at me.
— Ethan, I thought you had left.
— No, impossible. Not before you introduce me.
He doesn't even give him time to respond before turning toward me, with a playful smile.
— Very dear Madame Arrison, he continues, bowing slightly,
— I'm Ethan Haidara. His best friend, his brother… and sometimes his worst nightmare.
I can't help but smile.
(And I remember him. Leila talked to me about him the other day, I think.)
— Nice to meet you, Ethan. I extend my hand.
He shakes it enthusiastically, then looks me up and down without any shame before saying, in Italian, with an amused smile:
— Una vera bomba (A real bomb).
I blink, surprised.
I have to admit I don't really speak Italian… but I understand perfectly what he just said.
Tony exhales loudly, clearly annoyed.
— Ethan, stop being an idiot.
— Alright, alright… but admit it, brother, you got incredibly lucky, didn't you? Having a woman like that, it's how should I put it…
— Ethan, don't even finish that sentence, Tony growls.
— Oh, okay, okay, I'll shut up.
He raises his hands in mock surrender, then looks back at me.
— Looks like our dear Tony has become… how should I say…
He gives me a conspiratorial wink.
— Very protective.
Tony's jaw tightens.
— You're really looking for trouble.
Ethan's smile widens even more, clearly delighted.
— Oh… and possessive too.
He turns toward me, adopting an exaggeratedly serious expression.
— Very dear sister-in-law, you clearly have a problem.
I blink.
— Sister-in-law? I repeat, surprised.
He nods naturally.
— Of course. He places a hand on Tony's shoulder. If he's my brother, then you're my sister-in-law. That's logical, right?
Tony mutters something unintelligible.
I feel a smile form on my lips despite myself.
— In that case… nice to meet you, brother-in-law, I say in the same tone.
Ethan displays a victorious smile.
— I feel like we're going to get along very well.
I was about to respond when a familiar voice echoes as she enters.
— Ah, there you are.
It's Leila.
She arrives confidently, elegant dress, sharp gaze. As soon as Ethan sees her, something changes. His smile becomes slower, more deliberate. His gaze lingers a little too long on her.
She looks at me intently, as if trying to read something on my face. Then, without warning, she turns to Tony, a mischievous smile stretching her lips.
— Tony, she says softly, your father is looking for you. He doesn't seem very patient.
Tony raises an eyebrow, suspicious.
— My father is looking for me… or is that an excuse to get me away?
— Maybe both, she replies with a small laugh.
Suddenly, her eyes meet Ethan's. He hasn't stopped staring at her. He watches her for a little too long; I notice he can't take his eyes off her.
The heavy silence lasts a few seconds, then Ethan finally breaks it in a deep voice:
— Wow, che bellezza (Wow, what a beauty!).
Leila smiles slightly, amused, before replying just as casually, in perfect Italian:
— Grazie… ma devo dire che anche tu non sei niente male.
(Thank you… but I must say, you're not bad either.)
His smile widens immediately. Clearly, he appreciates the response.
— So, Leila says, looking him up and down, perfectly at ease,
— you must be Ethan.
— Oh, did you investigate me?
— Not directly, she replies, shrugging, with a half-smile.
They size each other up for a second. Just one. A light tension, almost playful, floats between them.
— Interesting, Ethan murmurs with a crooked smile.
I observe them, a little surprised, when Leila suddenly turns toward me and steps closer to speak in a low voice.
— Esther, your mother is waiting for you outside. She wants to see you right now.
My heart skips a beat. She's not going to let me off easy.
— Alright.
I nod slowly.
Then I turn toward Tony.
He's already looking at me.
His gaze is fixed. Heavy. Almost too intense. I feel it reach me, pierce through me, as if he were trying to hold me back without saying a word. As if he wanted to impose his presence, his authority, through the sheer force of his eyes.
I immediately look away.
I refuse to give him more.
I refuse to show him what he does to me.
I grab Leila's hand, an instinctive, almost vital gesture, and pull her with me.
I walk straight ahead.
Without turning back.
And yet… I feel it.
His burning gaze on my back.
Present.
Heavy.
Inevitable.
Like a silent promise.
Or a threat.
And just before I can step through the doors of city hall…
His voice stops me.
Deep. Firm. Unyielding.
— Esther.
I freeze.
Leila stops too, her hand still tightly holding mine, like an anchor to keep me from wavering.
I take a slow, controlled breath, then turn around.
Our gazes meet.
He has that closed, hard face, carved by tension.
That dark, cold look that leaves no room for discussion.
His jaw is clenched.
His shoulders tense.
Everything about him screams control… and restrained anger.
— Don't think this conversation is over, he says in a low but sharp voice.
We're not done, you and I.
Each word falls like a warning.
Like a promise he fully intends to keep.
I stare at him for one second too long.
Just enough to let him know I heard.
That I missed nothing.
But not enough to give him what he wants.
I don't answer.
Not a word.
Silence is my only response.
I turn away, tighten my grip on Leila's hand, and resume walking, head held high, heart pounding far too fast in my chest.
I step through the door without looking back
PS: the story is only just beginning.