The sky outside slowly shifted from black to a muted gray. The candles had long burned out, their scent barely lingering in the air. The room was thick with heat and the aftermath of hours of relentless passion and punishment.
Ava lay beneath him, drenched in sweat and tears, skin flushed and marked by his hands, his lips, his fury.
Her body was sore. Used. Aching in ways she never imagined. And yet… she hadn't pushed him away. Not once.
Because she didn't know how.
Because she belonged here now.
Devid hovered over her, breath heavy, chest rising and falling like a wave trying to calm after a storm. His eyes were half-lidded, muscles trembling from the release of so much his control, his pride, his rage.
His fingers brushed back the damp hair stuck to her cheek.
Not gentle. But not cruel, either.
"Still breathing?" he whispered, almost mockingly.
Ava blinked slowly. Her lips were parted, her voice long gone. But her eyes met his for the first time that night quiet and deep, like soft moonlight through broken windows.
He stared.
Why the hell was she looking at him like that?
Like he hadn't just destroyed her. Like she forgave him. That made his stomach twist.
"Don't look at me like that," he snapped suddenly, pulling away and sitting at the edge of the bed.
Ava winced at the loss of warmth, her body curling up on instinct. But she said nothing.
Of course she didn't. Always so quiet.
So obedient, he hated it, hated how she made him feel.
Devid dragged a hand through his hair and stood up, grabbing a towel and walking into the bathroom without another word. The door slammed.
Left alone, Ava slowly sat up, flinching at the soreness between her legs, the bruises forming on her thighs and hips.
She pulled the blanket around her, tears escaping again not from pain, but from the strange ache in her heart.
Was this what marriage was going to be?
Silence. Coldness. His hands claiming her every night, but never touching her heart?
She curled up, staring at the door he disappeared into.
And whispered one word.
"…Husband."
Time skips to morning.
Sunlight spilled through the wide windows, casting soft gold over the disheveled wedding suite. The sheets were tangled, the air still thick with tension and sweat.
Ava lay curled on her side, wearing nothing but the bruises he'd left on her soft skin.
The sound of the bathroom door creaking open made her tense under the blanket.
Devid walked out, freshly showered, hair still wet, a towel around his neck, dressed in black slacks and a half-buttoned shirt.
His gaze flicked to her quiet, still, eyes shut but not asleep.
He knew she was awake.
She always kept her pain tucked behind her lashes.
He hated that.
He hated how silent she was. How she didn't curse him. Didn't scream. Didn't fight.
Why the fuck didn't she fight?
"You should take a shower," he said flatly, voice void of the heat from the night before.
She opened her eyes slowly and nodded, not meeting his gaze.
Her body moved stiffly as she slid out of bed, the blanket wrapped tightly around her. She didn't wince, didn't let a sound escape but he noticed the way her knees trembled as she walked.
She entered the bathroom, and he stared at the door long after it closed.
Something gnawed at him.
Regret? Guilt? He didn't do guilt. He had only taken what was his.
She was his wife. His property.
So why did the memory of her broken whispers echo so loudly in his head?
"Please… stop…"
He clenched his jaw.
This wasn't supposed to bother him.
He walked to the window, gripping the curtain tightly.
After a while, she came out, her hair wet, wearing a simple white robe. Her head was lowered. She stood quietly, waiting like she was asking for permission to move, to speak, to breathe.
Devid didn't look at her. He turned, brushing past her without a glance. But as he reached for the door, he paused.
A small, hesitant voice stopped him.
"Thank you… for marrying me."
He froze.
His hand on the doorknob. His chest is tight.
And without turning around, he replied coldly "I didn't do it for you."
Then he walked out.
Leaving her standing in silence again… with a heart that still managed to hope.