“Yes,” I said.
“And can I tell my parents I’m getting married?”
“Of course,” I replied.
She nodded once, as if confirming a decision she had already made long before I arrived.
That evening, I received a message from an unknown number.
I’m in.
A month later, we were standing at the altar.
The wedding was everything my parents had dreamed of — expensive, perfectly arranged, and filled with influential guests who smiled as if they were witnessing a victory rather than a marriage. My parents looked satisfied in a way I hadn’t seen in years.
Claire played her part flawlessly. Calm. Composed. Polite. Unreadable.
It made everything easier.
Or so I thought.
After the reception, I brought her to my house. The silence inside felt heavier than usual, as if the walls understood something I didn’t.
I showed her the guest room down the hall.
“I’ll sleep in another room,” I explained. “We’ll only pretend when my parents are around.”
She nodded without question.
Then she set her purse down on the bed.
And for the first time since I met her, her expression changed.
“Before we go to bed,” she said softly, “promise you won’t scream when I show you this.”
I frowned.
“What are you talking about?”
Claire reached into her purse slowly, deliberately, as if she wanted me to understand that whatever came next had been prepared long before this moment.
When she finally pulled something out and placed it in her hands, I felt my stomach tighten in a way I couldn’t explain.
Because whatever I thought this marriage was…
It was already something else entirely.
