The garden looked like something lifted from a dream that had never known compromise.
Sunlight filtered through tall, ancient trees whose branches stretched outward like benevolent guardians, casting soft shadows across the immaculately trimmed lawn. Flowers bloomed in deliberate abundance-white roses, pale peonies, flashes of crimson tucked strategically among the greenery. Somewhere near the back of the estate, water trickled gently from a stone fountain, the sound steady and calming, as though nature itself were attempting to soothe the nerves of everyone gathered.
It was a beautiful place to begin a life together.
And yet, as the clock struck eleven and the ceremony began, Esther felt as though she were standing at the edge of something irreversible, something vast and hollow that threatened to swallow her whole.
She stood at the front of the aisle, her fingers laced tightly together around a bouquet she barely remembered choosing. The white of her wedding dress gleamed beneath the sun, its fabric expensive, flawless, tailored to perfection. Lace hugged her figure elegantly, the train falling behind her like a quiet whisper of inevitability. Anyone looking at her would see a bride-radiant, poised, enviable.
Only Esther knew how tightly her chest ached beneath the bodice.
She smiled because she had practiced that smile for weeks. It was soft, graceful, appropriate. The kind of smile that belonged in photographs and satisfied expectations. But beneath it, her jaw ached from the effort of holding it in place, and her stomach churned with a dull, persistent dread.
Across from her stood Astor.
He looked exactly as he should-handsome in his tailored tuxedo, posture straight, expression carefully composed. The black fabric fit him impeccably, crisp against the white of his shirt, his tie knotted with precision. To anyone else, he appeared calm, confident, the perfect groom.
Esther noticed the tension in his shoulders.
It was subtle, the kind of detail only someone standing close enough could see. His smile, polite and restrained, never quite reached his eyes. When he looked at her, his gaze was steady but distant, as though he were looking past her, already calculating the hours ahead, the conversations waiting beyond the ceremony.
They had met only a handful of times before this day.
Dinners arranged by parents. Meetings disguised as casual introductions. Conversations that circled safely around neutral topics-art, travel, the weather-never venturing anywhere intimate enough to matter. They were courteous to one another, respectful, even kind in a distant way.
But love had never been part of the discussion.
At the edge of the aisle stood Sophia, Esther's maid of honor, her red dress a sharp contrast against the sea of white and green. She held her bouquet loosely, her fingers pale where they gripped the stems too tightly. Her smile was present, but worry lingered beneath it, flickering in her eyes every time she glanced at Esther.
Sophia had known.
She had known from the moment Esther told her about the engagement-that this wedding was not born of romance or devotion, but of necessity. She had listened late into the night as Esther spoke of contracts and collapsing finances, of parents who spoke of survival in terms of balance sheets rather than happiness.
Now, standing here, Sophia felt helpless. There was nothing she could do but witness it.
In the front row sat James Princeton, Astor's father, his expression one of unmistakable pride. He sat upright, hands folded neatly in his lap, eyes sharp and calculating even as the ceremony unfolded. To him, this was not simply a wedding-it was the culmination of months of negotiation, strategy, and leverage.
A merger sealed not with ink, but with vows.
Beside him, Astor's mother smiled brightly, her gaze sweeping over the guests, the décor, the subtle markers of wealth and influence. She nodded occasionally to acquaintances, already imagining the doors that would open with this union-the invitations, the alliances, the elevation of their family name.
Across the aisle sat Esther's parents.
Her mother dabbed at her eyes with a lace handkerchief, tears of relief glistening as she smiled. Her father's expression was one of satisfaction, his shoulders relaxed in a way Esther hadn't seen in years. The family business, once teetering on the brink of collapse, was now safe. Stabilized. Rescued by this marriage.
They looked happy.
The officiant stepped forward, his presence warm and composed. He smiled kindly at the couple, oblivious-or perhaps indifferent-to the undercurrents swirling beneath the surface.
"Dearly beloved," he began, his voice carrying easily through the garden, "we gather here today to witness and celebrate the union of Esther and Astor."
The words floated into the air, beautiful and hollow all at once.
As he spoke of love and partnership, of commitment and trust, Esther felt a strange detachment settle over her. It was as though she were watching the scene from somewhere above, observing a woman who looked like her but felt entirely removed from herself.
When the officiant spoke of choosing one another, her fingers tightened around her bouquet.
Choosing, she thought. What a generous word.
Astor listened attentively, nodding at the appropriate moments. His mind, however, drifted elsewhere.
He thought of boardrooms and forecasts, of expansion opportunities now unlocked. He imagined his father's approval, the pride that would shine in James's eyes when this day was complete. He had grown up understanding duty as clearly as other children understood affection. Responsibility came first. Personal desire followed-if there was room.
This marriage made sense.
That was enough.
When it came time for the vows, Esther's heart began to pound.
She turned to face Astor fully, her forced smile trembling slightly at the edges. He met her gaze, offering a reassuring nod that felt rehearsed rather than spontaneous.
The words were traditional, familiar. Promises spoken by countless couples before them.
"I promise to love you," Astor said, his voice steady, controlled. "To honor you. To stand by your side."
Esther repeated the words when it was her turn, her voice soft but clear.
"I promise to love you. To support you. To remain faithful."
Each sentence felt heavier than the last, settling around her like invisible chains.
This is forever, she thought. With someone I barely know.
When the rings were brought forward, Astor took Esther's hand. His touch was gentle, careful. He slid the ring onto her finger with practiced ease, the metal cool against her skin.
She did the same, her hands trembling as she placed the ring on his finger.
The circle closed.
From the outside, it was perfect.
Inside, something quietly broke.
---
The officiant's smile widened as he lifted his hands.
"By the power vested in me," he announced, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss."
A murmur of anticipation rippled through the guests.
Astor turned toward Esther, his polite smile returning. He leaned in, slowly, giving her time to respond. She stepped forward to meet him, her movements mechanical, her body stiff with awareness.
Their lips touched.
The kiss was brief, restrained. No spark, no urgency-just enough to satisfy the moment. Enough to look convincing.
Cheers erupted immediately. Applause thundered through the garden as white confetti fluttered down from above, catching in Esther's veil and hair.
Her mother clasped her hands together, her smile radiant.
Kirkson Corp is saved, she thought. My legacy secured.
James Princeton leaned back slightly, satisfaction settling deep in his chest.
Princeton Enterprises will dominate, he thought. My son did well.
Esther pulled back from the kiss, her smile fixed in place as she turned to face the crowd. She waved gently, the confetti clinging to her dress like remnants of a celebration she could not feel.
Astor stood beside her, hand resting lightly at her back, the picture of a devoted groom.
They were applauded as though they had just performed something extraordinary.
Neither of them spoke.
---
By the time the reception began at one o'clock, the estate buzzed with energy.
The indoor hall was just as opulent as the garden-high ceilings, crystal chandeliers, polished floors reflecting warm light. Tables dressed in white linen filled the room, accented by red chairs and floral centerpieces of roses and lilies. Soft music played as guests filtered in, their conversations overlapping in a pleasant hum.
"Please welcome," the announcer called, "Mr. and Mrs. Princeton!"
Applause filled the room as Esther and Astor entered side by side.
Astor lifted his hand in a gracious wave, smiling easily. Esther mirrored him, her movements precise, practiced. She felt as though she were stepping into a role she had rehearsed but never auditioned for.
Glasses clinked. Cheers echoed.
Waitstaff moved swiftly, offering drinks and hors d'oeuvres. The scent of rich food filled the air, mingling with perfume and polished wood.
Within minutes, the conversations began.
James Princeton found Esther's father near the bar, and the two men quickly fell into discussion.
"The merger will allow us to streamline operations," James said, gesturing slightly with his glass. "With your distribution channels and our capital-"
"The synergy is undeniable," Esther's father replied, nodding enthusiastically. "This marriage came at exactly the right time."
Nearby, Astor's mother and Esther's mother spoke in hushed, excited tones.
"There's potential for collaboration across multiple sectors," Astor's mother said. "It opens so many doors socially as well."
Esther's mother smiled brightly. "The guest list alone is impressive. We've already had inquiries."
Everywhere Esther turned, business followed.
She stood near Sophia, listening to the conversations swirl around her like a suffocating fog.
"Do you want to step outside?" Sophia asked quietly, concern etched into her face.
Esther shook her head, forcing a small laugh. "It wouldn't matter. It's all the same."
Sophia tried to steer the conversation elsewhere-commenting on the décor, the music, the cake-but it was futile. Every topic bent inevitably back toward deals, prospects, alliances.
Esther felt trapped.
Not just in the marriage-but in a world that valued her not for who she was, but for what she represented.
Across the room, Astor listened attentively as his father spoke, nodding, asking questions. He appeared engaged, comfortable, exactly where he belonged.
When it came time for the first dance, the room quieted once more.
Astor extended his hand. "Shall we?"
Esther took it.
They moved to the center of the dance floor as music began to play. He placed one hand at her waist, the other clasping hers.
They swayed.
The movement was stiff, cautious. Their bodies close but unfamiliar, their steps careful not to misalign. They spoke quietly, exchanging polite murmurs meant only to fill the silence.
"You look beautiful," Astor said.
"Thank you," Esther replied. "You look...very composed."
He smiled faintly. "Years of practice."
They posed for photographs after the cake cutting, standing shoulder to shoulder, smiling on cue. Astor's arm wrapped around her waist, Esther's hand resting lightly on his chest.
The photographer adjusted angles, encouraged laughter.
They complied.
Inside, Esther felt nothing but exhaustion.
As the evening wore on, the celebration continued-but Esther felt herself fading further into the background, a figure in white drifting through a room full of ambitions and negotiations.
This was her wedding day.
And it felt like the beginning of a life she had never chosen.