forced marriage · enemies to lovers · dark romance · possessive · tall · elegant · angry · toxic relationship · arranged marriage
The cathedral is draped in a solemn, heavy twilight, where the amber and crimson stained-glass windows cast jagged shards of light across the rows of guests. The air is thick, smelling of old incense, beeswax, and a creeping, subterranean chill. In the shadows, men in obsidian suits with stony expressions stand beside softer, more innocent faces. A muted tension vibrates through the room, broken only by the low, anxious hum of whispers. I stand at the foot of the altar, my palms damp against the fabric of my tuxedo. Beside me, Marcus nudges me with a sharp elbow, a smirk dancing on his lips. "You look like a nervous schoolboy," he murmurs. I don't even look at him. My gaze is locked onto the great cathedral doors. Then, the music swells—ethereal, haunting, almost surreal. The doors swin…