The bride i never wanted

He had been looking at my drawings.

I stood frozen in the living room, eyes fixed on the open sketchbook. My city skyline piece stared back at me. Alexander’s office door sat cracked open just enough for me to know he had come out here while I was in the kitchen.

I closed the sketchbook fast and set it back exactly where I found it. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

The penthouse felt too quiet. I went to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of red wine. Anything to calm my nerves. As I turned with the full glass, my elbow knocked the bottle. It tipped and red wine splashed all over the front of my navy dress.

“Shit!” I grabbed a towel but it only made it worse. The stain spread fast.

I looked around. No other clean clothes nearby. His bedroom door was open a little. I hesitated, then slipped inside and grabbed the first white shirt I saw hanging in his massive closet. It smelled like him. Clean and expensive.

I changed quickly in the bathroom, buttoning his shirt over my underwear. It fell to mid-thigh. I rolled up the sleeves and stepped back into the living room, hoping he stayed in his office.

No such luck.

Alexander walked out of his office right then, phone in hand. He stopped dead when he saw me.

“What the hell are you wearing?” His voice came out rough.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I spilled wine on my dress. This was the closest thing. I’ll wash it and put it back.”

He stared. His eyes moved from my legs up to the open collar of his shirt. “Take it off.”

My face heated. “Right now? In the middle of the living room?”

“Change back into your stained dress then,” he said. “Or go to your room. Just stop walking around like that.”

I didn’t move. “It’s just a shirt, Alexander. You act like I’m trying to seduce you or something.”

He set his phone down hard on the counter. “You think this is funny? You stand there in my shirt after everything and expect me to ignore it?”

“I expect you to act like a normal person,” I shot back. “I made a mess. I borrowed a shirt. End of story.”

He walked closer. Slow. “Nothing is end of story with you, Emma. You keep showing up where you don’t belong.”

I lifted my chin. “Like your boardroom today? Or your penthouse? Or your marriage?”

“Exactly.” His eyes dropped to the hem of the shirt again. “Take it off and go change.”

“No.” I stepped back but my back hit the kitchen island. “You’re not my boss in here. Not like that.”

Alexander stopped right in front of me. Close. Too close. “I am your husband. On paper at least. And right now my wife is standing in my kitchen wearing nothing but my shirt.”

The way he said “my wife” sent a weird shiver down my back. Not all fear.

“You hate that I’m your wife,” I reminded him. “You’ve said it enough times.”

He ran a hand through his dark hair. “I do hate it. But I’m still a man, Emma. And you’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

I laughed once, sharp. “I’m making it harder? You’re the one who told me to stay invisible. Yet every time I try, you find a reason to stare at me.”

“Because you keep breaking the rules,” he growled. “First the boardroom. Now this.”

I picked up the wine glass I had saved from the spill and took a sip. My hand trembled a little. “Maybe your rules suck. Maybe I’m tired of pretending I don’t exist just to make you feel better about the wrong bride.”

Alexander’s eyes followed the glass to my lips. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me right now.”

I set the glass down. “Then tell me. Stop talking in circles and say it.”

He placed both hands on the island, one on each side of me. Trapping me without touching. “You want the truth? I look at you in my shirt and for one stupid second I forget you’re the mistake. I forget you tricked me. I forget everything except how you look right now.”

My breath caught. “That sounds like a problem for you, not me.”

“It is.” His voice dropped lower. “Because I don’t want to want you, Emma. I want to stay angry. Anger is clean. This… this is not clean.”

I swallowed hard. “Then go back to your office. Pretend I’m not here like you wanted.”

He didn’t move. We stood there, inches apart. His cologne mixed with the wine smell. My heart hammered loud in my ears.

“You should go change,” he said finally. But he still didn’t step back.

“I will,” I whispered. “After you move.”

Alexander looked down at my mouth for a long second. Then he pushed off the island and turned away. “Fine. Go.”

I walked past him toward the bedrooms. My legs felt weak.

“Emma,” he called after me.

I stopped in the hallway but didn’t turn around.

“Next time you need clothes,” he said, “ask. Don’t go into my room.”

“Next time I’ll just walk around naked,” I muttered.

I heard him curse under his breath.

I kept walking until I reached my bedroom door. My skin still felt hot where his eyes had been. I closed the door behind me and leaned against it.

This was dangerous. The way he looked at me. The way my body reacted even when my mind screamed to hate him.

I changed back into my own clothes and threw his shirt into the laundry basket. Then I curled up on the bed with my knees to my chest.

Later that night, after the penthouse went completely quiet, I couldn’t hold it anymore.

I cried. Silent tears at first, then harder. My shoulders shook as everything crashed down. The wedding. The contract. The way he looked at me tonight. The way I almost wanted him to keep looking.

I buried my face in the pillow to muffle the sound.

But I didn’t hear my door open.

I didn’t know Alexander stood in the doorway, watching me cry.

Midnight Tears — Alexander overhears Emma crying alone and feels the first flicker of guilt.