---
The room was too quiet.
Esther lay on her back, hands folded behind her head, staring at the ceiling as if it might offer answers if she watched long enough. The soft glow from the table lamps cast gentle shadows along the pale blue walls, turning familiar shapes-picture frames, artwork, the edge of the dresser-into something almost dreamlike. Outside, a light breeze slipped through the open window, stirring the white curtains so they billowed and fell like slow, steady breaths.
Ten o'clock.
The night before her wedding.
She shifted slightly, the plush cream-colored carpet visible beyond the edge of the bed, though she hadn't touched it yet. The four-poster bed creaked faintly as she moved, the sound oddly loud in the stillness. White curtains framed her like something precious and fragile, and for the first time all day, Esther felt exactly that.
Fragile.
Her mind refused to settle. Thoughts came in waves, overlapping, colliding.
Will he control me?
The question surfaced without warning, sharp and immediate. Esther swallowed, her chest tightening slightly.
Astor Princeton was many things-brilliant, composed, intimidating-but warm wasn't a word that came easily to mind. She had seen his restraint, the way his emotions stayed neatly locked behind that calm exterior.
What if he's cold forever? she wondered.
What if this marriage is just... efficient?
Her fingers flexed against the pillow beneath her head, palms warm, heart beating just a little too fast. The idea lodged itself deeper, uncomfortable and persistent.
What if I never experience real love? Or passion?
The thought scared her more than she cared to admit.
She turned her head slightly, her gaze drifting toward the desk by the window. Her laptop sat there, half-buried beneath wedding planning notes and books she hadn't touched in weeks. Checklists. Seating charts. Contracts. Every detail had been planned to perfection, yet none of it addressed the part that terrified her most.
Marriage wasn't just a ceremony. It was permanence.
"No more solo decisions," she whispered to the ceiling. "No more spontaneity."
No more nights like this-quiet, uninterrupted, hers.
Esther closed her eyes, exhaustion pressing down on her, heavy and fog-like. The past few weeks had been relentless: fittings, meetings, negotiations disguised as family conversations. She felt stretched thin, her confidence frayed around the edges.
Sophia's voice echoed in her head, unwelcome but persistent.
Maybe Astor's not all bad. Try to find common ground.
Esther sighed softly, the sound barely audible. Sophia always tried to see the best in people. Esther admired that about her-envied it, sometimes.
Finally, unable to lie still any longer, Esther threw off the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The carpet was cool beneath her bare feet as she stood, the floorboards creaking gently as she crossed the room.
She sat at her desk, opened her laptop, and stared at the blank screen for a long moment.
Then she began to type.
Tomorrow's the day, she wrote.
Am I ready?
The cursor blinked beneath the question, patient and unforgiving.
Esther leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples. She didn't know the answer. And somehow, that scared her more than anything else.
---
Across the city, beneath a darker sky, Astor Princeton stood motionless by the window of his bedroom.
The Princeton Estate lay quiet behind him, its polished halls and carefully curated elegance momentarily irrelevant. His focus was on the view beyond the glass: the manicured backyard, the pool reflecting moonlight, the orderly perfection of a life built on expectation.
Ten o'clock.
The same hour. The same night.
His stance was firm, feet planted shoulder-width apart, hands tucked into his pockets. He looked every bit the man who had been raised for leadership-composed, unyielding-but beneath that exterior, his mind worked steadily.
Tomorrow, he thought, I'll vow to love and honor Esther.
The words felt strange, formal, almost unreal.
Esther Kirkson.
Beautiful. Intelligent. Unquestionably strong-willed.
And stubborn.
Astor exhaled slowly through his nose. He respected her strength, even admired it, though he knew it would challenge him in ways he couldn't yet predict. She wasn't malleable. She wouldn't bend simply because tradition or expectation demanded it.
That both unsettled and intrigued him.
Behind him, the room was bathed in dim light. Navy blue walls framed dark wood furniture, the four-poster bed standing solid and imposing at the center. The air carried familiar scents-leather, polished wood, a trace of cologne-comforting in their consistency.
His father's voice surfaced unbidden.
Secure this alliance, Astor. Princeton Enterprises depends on it.
The weight of James Princeton's expectations pressed down on him, familiar and unrelenting. This marriage wasn't merely personal-it was strategic. A union meant to stabilize, expand, and protect a legacy generations in the making.
Your grandfather would be proud, his father had said earlier that evening. Ready to lead.
Astor's jaw clenched slightly as he stared into the darkness beyond the glass. He wanted to believe that this wasn't just obligation-that something meaningful could grow from it. He wasn't naive enough to expect passion overnight, but respect, partnership... those were possible.
Necessary.
He nodded to himself, a small, decisive motion.
Turning from the window, Astor walked toward the bed. He removed his watch and placed it carefully on the nightstand, as though aligning it just right might bring order to the uncertainty ahead. He shrugged out of his shirt, revealing a toned physique shaped by discipline rather than vanity, and sat briefly before lying back against the pillows.
The lamp clicked off.
Darkness settled.
Tomorrow would come whether he was ready or not.
And Astor Princeton would meet it head-on.
---
By eight o'clock the next morning, tranquility was a distant memory.
At the Kirkson residence, Esther's bedroom had transformed into organized chaos. Dresses hung from every available surface. Shoes littered the floor. Veils draped over chair backs like ghostly echoes of what was to come.
Esther stood in the center of it all, half-dressed and overwhelmed, while Sophia hovered nearby with the focused intensity of someone on a mission.
"Don't move," Sophia warned, adjusting the bodice of the wedding dress. "If you breathe wrong, this entire thing might collapse."
Esther huffed a laugh despite herself.
In the living room, the chaos continued. Flowers filled every corner-bouquets, centerpieces, garlands-while catering staff moved swiftly between trays of hors d'oeuvres and towering cake tiers. The wedding planner barked gentle orders into her phone, flipping through a clipboard with practiced efficiency.
Phones rang constantly. Messages poured in. Laughter and congratulations echoed through the house.
Esther's mother fussed over Sophia as they worked together to secure the veil, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
"You look beautiful," she murmured, voice thick with emotion.
Across town, the Princeton Estate mirrored the frenzy.
Astor's tuxedo lay pristine across the bed as his best man helped him dress, straightening cuffs and adjusting the tie with exaggerated seriousness.
"Relax," the best man said, handing him a glass of orange juice. "You're marrying a powerhouse, not walking into an execution."
Astor smirked faintly, accepting the glass.
James Princeton entered moments later, clapping a hand on his son's shoulder.
"You look ready," he said, pride unmistakable in his voice.
Downstairs, a string quartet tuned their instruments while flowers-many delivered from the Kirkson residence-were arranged with meticulous care. The wedding planner moved seamlessly between both families, ensuring timelines aligned perfectly.
By the time eight thirty rolled around, the air itself seemed to vibrate with anticipation.
---
Scene 4: Before the Ceremony
The garden was breathtaking.
Sunlight filtered through lush greenery, casting dappled shadows across the perfectly manicured lawn. A small pond shimmered nearby, its fountain sending soft ripples across the water, while a graceful bridge arched delicately over it. White chairs lined a red carpet that led to a floral arch bursting with color.
It was exactly as planned.
Thirty minutes before the ceremony, Esther stood near the garden entrance, bouquet clutched tightly in her hands.
Her dress fit her like it had been made for this moment-a mermaid silhouette that hugged her form, lace detailing delicate yet strong. Her veil cascaded from an elegant updo, framing her face as the breeze lifted its edges.
Sophia handed her a tissue.
"For happy tears," she said softly.
Esther smiled, though her throat felt tight.
Her mother stepped forward and wrapped her in a gentle embrace.
"No matter what," she whispered, "you are loved."
Nearby, Astor waited with his best man, adjusting his jacket as he surveyed the scene. His tuxedo was impeccable-black and crisp, the red rose boutonniere a striking contrast.
His father shook his hand firmly.
"Proud of you," James said.
The wedding planner gave a subtle signal.
It was almost time.
As Esther took a steadying breath and Astor straightened his shoulders, the space between them-physical and emotional-felt charged with possibility.
Two lives. Two fears. One irrevocable step forward.
And as the music prepared to begin, neither of them could turn back now.