The soft flicker of two candles cast an unsettling glow, their wax slowly dripping like scarlet tears. The wedding decorations adorning the wall behind them gleamed in the low light, creating an unusual atmosphere that filled the room with an eerie stillness.
On the bed lay a woman dressed in bridal white. Her hands and feet tightly bound with coarse hemp ropes, her eyes firmly shut. From outside, the sound of shuffling footsteps grew louder, followed by the creak of a door opening.
Four women entered, one of whom was slightly older, appearing to be around fifty. The other three seemed to be in their twenties. Trailing behind them was a young man in a brand-new suit. His complexion was dark, but the tailored suit gave him a ruggedly masculine charm, despite his otherwise plain features.
"Mom, why hasn't she woken up yet?" asked the woman in the floral coat, stepping closer to the bed and glancing at the bride lying unconscious. She turned to the older woman behind her and spoke in a mocking tone, clearly finding the situation amusing.
Bianca Clark, the older woman, shot a sharp look at the speaker, her eyes flashing with disapproval. She had long seen through her insincerity, knowing she was here only to witness a spectacle, not out of any real concern.
Elene Boyer, the woman in the floral coat, shrank back under Bianca’s glare. Ever since her marriage into the Baxter family, she had been afraid of Bianca. A single glance from her was enough to make her step back, wiping away her earlier smirk. Despite that, her curiosity lingered, intrigued by the unfolding drama.
Bianca approached the bed cautiously, inspecting the woman lying there. The other two women exchanged glances, but chose to remain a step away. They were unsure of how to proceed.
Just then, Leona Houstan stirred, her eyes snapping open in a jolt of shock. The sight of an unfamiliar face looming close to hers startled her further. She attempted to move but found her limbs restrained, her eyes widening in disbelief.
Bianca, just inches away from Leona, was startled by her abrupt awakening. She quickly retreated, keeping a cautious eye on her every move. As Leona’s gaze shifted, her eyes landed on the bright character on the wall, and her pupils contracted in realization. Her heart pounded, but she fought to maintain composure.
"Leona, you're awake," Bianca remarked with a soft chuckle. Though her expression revealed a hint of sympathy, she knew her hands were tied—both figuratively and literally. If Leona wasn’t bound, there would be no wedding. Bianca couldn’t risk it.
Leona's mind raced as her gaze darted to the corner, where a man sat in silence, watching the scene unfold. Their eyes met briefly, but his look conveyed nothing but disdain.
"Untie me." Leona finally said, her voice calm but firm.
Bianca hesitated, the unspoken fear evident in her gaze. "I don’t know... What if you..." Her voice trailed off, but the meaning was clear. She had four sons, three of whom were already married. This marriage had been arranged by her late husband, and Bianca was determined to uphold the promise. Whether Leona agreed or not, she felt compelled to fulfill the arrangement as it was her husband's final wish.
"I won't run. Just untie me." Leona repeated, her tone even and resolute as she sat up.
Her words elicited wary glances from everyone in the room. They still remembered the commotion during the daytime ceremony when Leona had fiercely resisted the wedding. It was only at Leona's father's insistence that they had tied her hands and feet. Otherwise, the marriage might never have taken place.
"I said I won't run away." Leona stated coldly, her gaze unwavering as she looked directly at Bianca. Bianca, noticing the steady resolve in Leona’s eyes, assumed she had accepted her fate. Cautiously, she stepped forward and began untying the ropes. However, her tone remained sharp as she issued a final warning. "Leona, your family has already accepted the betrothal gift. Your marriage to Hans is sealed. There's no going back now, so you better not cause any more trouble."
"I understand." Leona’s voice was calm, though her fingers gently brushed against the bruises on her wrists as she stood. Her sudden movement startled the room. "Hans, close the door!" Bianca commanded. Her voice was laced with panic, fearing Leona might attempt to flee. Leona sighed, clearly irate at the presumption. She pointed to the basin behind the door, her expression weary. "I just want to wash my face."
Bianca, despite feeling a twinge of embarrassment over her earlier overreaction, exhibited no signs of remorse. Placing her trust in Leona was not a risk she was willing to take lightly. Instead, she maintained a vigilant demeanor, firmly believing that her suspicions were entirely warranted.
Without sparing a glance at anyone else, Leona approached the basin. She meticulously washed her face and hands with the warm water, each movement executed with purpose and intent. Hans, who had been quietly observing from his chair, finally stood. He glanced from his mother to Leona, then spoke with an air of practicality. "Mom, it’s late. You should head back and rest."
Bianca flushed, her earlier reluctance about the marriage momentarily forgotten. Now, she appeared eager to leave. Her thoughts drifted to the possibility of future grandchildren. Despite her previous reservations, she secretly hoped for a granddaughter. With her other sons, only the second had given her grandsons. None had brought a granddaughter into the family, and the thought of more boys brought a wave of quiet frustration.
Bianca’s eyes settled on Leona’s still-flat abdomen. She hoped, with a renewed sense of determination, that this marriage might finally give the Baxter family the granddaughter she longed for. The mischief caused by her grandsons had already burdened her enough.
"Leona," Hans said firmly, his voice cutting through Bianca's thoughts. "If you've changed your mind, I’ll let you leave now."
Leona held the towel tightly in her hand as she turned to face him. His expression conveyed genuine sincerity. In that fleeting moment, she felt her heart sink. Overwhelmed by uncertainty, she struggled to reconcile her feelings. "I haven’t changed my mind."
Hans stepped forward, his face serious yet respectful. "Leona, I’m a former soldier. Even though I’ve retired, I’ve never been a man who gives in to base desires. My mother blamed me earlier, and perhaps she was right. But I couldn’t let you go today with so many people around. Now, I can."
Leona hesitated before responding. Instead of answering, she placed the towel down and let her gaze wander to the bed. After a brief pause, she opened the cabinet, retrieved fresh bedding, and methodically arranged it on the floor.
Hans observed her with growing confusion. He scratched his head, struggling to understand the meaning behind her actions. Just hours ago, she had fought the marriage as though it would destroy her. Now, she seemed oddly composed.
The night had deepened, the darkness pressing against the window. Hans glanced once more at Leona before settling onto the bed, his mind still wrestling with the unexpected shift in her demeanor.
When the lights in the room dimmed, Leona opened her eyes. In the enveloping darkness, a pair of bright eyes blinked like stars against the night sky. Leona had never anticipated her rebirth, especially not on the day of her marriage. Her family resided in the neighbouring village, and her father had been comrades in arms with Hans' father. Their friendship had led to early arrangements for her and Hans to marry. At that time, both were too young to grasp the implications of this commitment, and neither objected to it.
Unfortunately, after Hans' father passed away when he was just eight, the two families lost touch. Although there had been marriage proposals over the years, her father consistently blocked them. He valued promises deeply, and as long as the Baxter family did not declare the arrangement void, he would not allow his daughter to marry anyone else.
It was only last month that Bianca approached Leona's father, insisting that they fulfill the long-standing agreement. At that moment, her father had made the decision to proceed with the marriage.