The First Night

Chapter Three: The First Night

I sit alone in this big, cold bedroom. It is supposed to be my wedding night, but the silence wraps around me like a tight blanket. The bed is perfectly made, untouched, as if it’s waiting for someone who may never come. I glance at the clock on the wall; the emptiness of this room seems to swallow me up.

Why am I alone on my wedding night? At least I could have expected some conversation, some acknowledgment that we were now married, though that marriage was not born out of love but rather out of force. But there is complete silence. And then it dawns on me—the cold reality of what Noah had said before. This is a business arrangement, period. I am his wife on paper, and that’s just it.

I glance around, feeling the weight of this decision pressing down on me. My father is safe; his hospital bills are paid. Debt against my family’s name is a thing of the past. And maybe—maybe I could make this marriage work and pull my family out of poverty, securing a future for us all. Maybe.

I step out from my room, walking toward Noah’s room before I can even think twice. I don’t know what I’m hoping for: a kind word, a small gesture—something that will make me feel like I am more than a stranger in his life. Maybe if I try hard enough, I will be able to change his mind. Maybe this marriage could mean more.

I knock on his door, and my heart races in a rundown. Seconds later, Noah opens it, and his features harden instantly when he lays his eyes on me. His face is unreadable, but there’s something cold in those eyes that makes me doubt everything.

“Rachel? Why would you come to my room? What are you doing here?” he says sharply, and it dawns on me that I have crossed my boundary.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself so I won’t look like a fool in front of him. “I... I thought we could talk. You know, regardless of how we got married, we still got married, and today is our wedding night. I thought we could have a conversation, even if it’s not for long.”

Noah’s face turns colder. “I made this clear to you before you did this. I’ll say it again, but don’t let me repeat myself after this,” he says, his voice very harsh. “This marriage is a contract, and it will always be. I agreed to help you. Don’t let me regret helping you. Marrying you is my gain, and don’t let me regret doing this with you, okay?”

My face flushes with embarrassment, but I still need to push further. “I know, and I am sorry. I understand it’s a contract. I just think living with a grown man under one roof won’t really... really make sense. Perhaps we could... I think we could make it... work. Yes, we could make it work.”

“Make what work? You better stop dreaming. I told you about this. There’s nothing to work about. You are here to play your part after I have paid the bills. Don’t imagine what will not happen. Don’t, don’t think about this.”

I swallow, feeling the lump in my throat. “I understand,” I manage to say, though I’m shaking. I turn to leave, feeling ashamed and regretful.

“Rachel,” he calls out, and I think he might have had a change of mind. I turn back, waiting and hoping to hear a nice word, a reply that will satisfy me.

“Make sure you don’t come to my room. I don’t want to see you come nearer to my room. Add that to the rules.”

Nodding, I make my way out of the room, a heavy heart in my chest. Softly, I shut the door and pad back to my own empty bedroom. What I have just agreed upon weighs heavier now with each step. This is not a marriage; this is some form of transaction.

I sink onto the edge of my bed, feeling the weight of it all—my father’s sickness, the debts, my sacrifice to save my family. And then there is him—my boyfriend. He has called me so many times, and I haven’t answered. I had left him hanging and had no other choice. Pressing my hands against my face, the tears well and fall silently, unstoppable.

I pick up my phone and scroll through the messages. There are so many from him, increasingly desperate: Where am I? Why won’t I answer him? Yet, I just can’t seem to get a reply out. How could I possibly explain this?

I had love, shared dreams—all that now feels like it belonged to another life, one that is now out of reach for me. I chose this path for the sake of my family, yet never in my wildest dreams did I think it would feel this hollow, this lonely. I have lost the man who actually loved me, loved me for who I am. And now, I am wedded to a man who treats me as nothing more than a business deal.

I go to my bed, trying to make sense of what’s going on. But I can’t. It’s very hard knowing I’ll be living in such a big and cold mansion. This is the reality of what I chose.