So... is this my husband?
[Name] knew from an early age that she would marry Damian Al Ghul; she had been raised for that very purpose for business reasons.
Ever since her parents were murdered by her grandfather, Asael Novalyn, a pioneer in human trafficking and Ra's Al Ghul's main supplier of slaves and weapons, [Name] had been promised to Damian. They only saw each other once when they were both 8 years old, and he was nothing more than a self-centered, narcissistic child who threatened to slit her throat if she touched an inch of his skin.
When they learned that Damian had moved to the USA, a foolish thought that the engagement was over crossed the young [Name]'s mind, which was soon corrected by a slap in the face from Ansel that left her with blood in her mouth and mouth ulcers that took days to heal.
And now here she was in a golden dress with gold and precious stones, surrounded by gifts and people she barely knew or had never even seen before, wishing her "congratulations" for having landed a noble man of virtuous blood like Damian.
Noble?Virtuous?The man who doesn't even look at me? She thought as she smiled and thanked them for their blessings and felt all her hairs stand on end when she saw Ra's handing Ansel an envelope spilling out bills and more bills of money. She had practically been bought, as if she were a toy.
The repulsive disgust rose in her throat, leaving a bitter taste on her tongue. She couldn't cry, because if she did, she would ruin the whole party and her makeup would be ruined.
Calculated footsteps approached her, footsteps that clearly made noise so she could hear them and prepare an Oscar-worthy smile. The strong, woody scent of her now husband— the title still seemed strange to her—entered her nostrils, followed by a soft touch on her shoulder.
"I know you didn't want to do this, neither did I, but we only need to stay married for four years to complete the contract." To be honest, remembering the date of the contract didn't help at all, it just reminded her that she would have four years to give the Al Ghuls a new heir and pretend to love Damian more than herself. "My father, my brothers, and my sisters are here. Come sit with us, and at least they'll spare you from having to smile all the time."
A heavy sigh escaped her lips, accompanied by a mocking, hurt laugh. "When we leave for our honeymoon, what will you do? Report my behavior to my grandfather? Make me your servant?" The mockery was evident in her voice, and consequently, so was the hurt.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not the kind of man who enslaves women, especially my wife, even if I dislike her as much as you do." He had changed, that much was
evident. Apparently, moving in with his father had done him good, but that didn't mean he wasn't just acting this way to avoid attracting unwanted attention.
"Oh Lord Al Ghul, I'm sorry to have assumed something of such magnitude against you, but I believe that you are still the same person you were ten years ago." The false remorse came out of the mouth of the seventeen-year-old young wife. "How can I be sure you won't slit my throat as you promised before? Am I that important to you?" Her eyes flashed slowly with disguised malice as each word came out of her mouth like wine being poured into a chalice.
"I don't kill anymore." Damian replied with a voice as sharp as a blade, his jaw clenched with tension and other feelings he couldn't name. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his father, Bruce Wayne, calling him with his gaze, but perhaps it was better to ignore him and try to avoid his wife's suffocating stare.
An angry snort escaped her red lips, which were still slightly smudged from the kiss Damian had planted on them at the altar. Personally, she thought they were too soft for the harsh words they uttered.
"Just sit with us," he repeated his request as he intertwined his fingers with hers, just to give the impression of a loving and happy couple. "If you want to cry, cry there, so no one will see you."
"As if I would stoop so low as to cry in front of his family."
Thirty minutes later, [Name] was in the garden outside the party with her face buried in Stephanie's neck, crying and smearing all her makeup.
"I'm sorry." She sniffed, trying not to get her sister-in-law's dress even dirtier (out of consideration for what she understood). "It's just that I don't even know him that well, and I'm married to him, and I don't know what to do."
Steph ran her hand through [Name]'s ornate hair, calming her down.
"He's a good boy, a little clueless at times, but he's good. And totally different from the one you met ten years ago."
Her head was a whirlwind of thoughts, ranging from how she was going to sleep next to him to the thought that he had a girlfriend at his house?
"Is he in a relationship?" [Name] asked after composing herself.
"I think only with you," replied the blonde as she got up from the grass, dusted off the back of her dress, and offered to help the newlywed up from the grass, who gladly accepted her help.
"You're actually pretty cool, Stephanie."
"I know I am." Their laughter lightened the heavy atmosphere, and even though they didn't know each other well, it was undeniable that the blonde's kindness in leaving the table as soon as she saw that [Name] was really upset, taking her to the garden, and allowing her to let loose, had slightly improved the newlywed's mood. "Why did you get married if you hate him so much?"
"I don't hate Damian, I hate his family." A heavy silence fell until [Name] realized what she had said and that it could be misinterpreted. "Not his father's side, I mean his grandfather, Ra's. He ordered Asael to kill my parents and promised me to Damian when I was only four years old."
"I see..." The blonde stared at the building where Damian and [Name]'s party was taking place, the building that was surrounded by absurdly trained people. Even the janitors were trained to knock out any threat, a building that for that very reason prevented [Name] from escaping. "You will come with us to our country, so you can keep your distance from your family."
[Name] agreed and unconsciously began to play with her wedding ring, a gold band carved with arabesques and silver edges, which also contained a solitary ring on top with Damian's name engraved in Arabic script. A ring that expressed love, a love she didn't even know would ever exist.
In two days, [Name] was seen leaving the Wayne family's private plane, which landed at Archie Goodwin International Airport, holding hands with Damian and wearing a green satin dress that clashed slightly with her husband's gray turtleneck shirt. Her beauty and elegance attracted attention wherever they went. After all, seeing billionaire Bruce Wayne's son walking hand in hand with a woman from outside the country after two months abroad is truly something quite extravagant.
[Name] cringed at every glance and every flash that went off at her every step through the corridors. She had never been so exposed in the media. Damian seemed to sense her tension, so he let go of her hand and put it on her shoulder as he pulled her closer to him, taking the opportunity to whisper.
"Ignore them, the more you worry, the more photos will be taken. Look at my face, I'll guide you through here." His warm breath, still smelling of mint gum, touched her ear, sending a shiver down her spine, but she did as she was told and stared at his face as she walked, allowing him to guide her.
The man's face had always been beautiful, even as a child when he only showed hatred, but now as he held her, she could see him trying to ease her nervousness, his eyes
with emeralds set at the airport exit, the jawline identical to her father-in-law's, her mother's nose, the slight sideways glances to see if she was feeling better.
He's not a bad person, and she knows that. She's just hurt and unaccustomed to it.
But maybe... just maybe, this could work out.
She took a deep breath and put her right arm around his waist and kept walking, feeling him give her shoulder a comforting squeeze.
Okay,she thought, let's see how this goes.
English ins't my first lenguage, so this can have some mistakes.
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