Caged Pheonix

"This is our house. You two will stay here until you complete your graduation. After that, you can choose to move out and live separately.”

I nodded with a faint smile toward Mr. William. He was kind and respectful—never once raising his voice or showing me any disregard. His warmth made me wonder how Ethan could possibly be his son. They seemed like opposites in every sense. Ethan stood beside me, silent and cold, like a statue carved in resentment.

“Go show her your room. You’ll be sharing it.”

“What?!!! I-I mean... w-why? Isn’t that too... early, uncle?”

Mr. William chuckled softly and reached out to ruffle my hair with fatherly affection.

“You’re married now. It’s not appropriate for husband and wife to live separately. And stop calling me ‘uncle’. You’re part of the family now. Call me Dad.”

I swallowed my protest and nodded hesitantly, then glanced at Ethan, hoping—pleading—for him to say something. But he didn’t. Not a word. My heart raced with unease. He was intimidating enough when we weren’t alone. Now the idea of sharing a room with him was terrifying.

He finally jerked his head toward the hallway, a silent command for me to follow. I gripped the handle of my heavy suitcase and trailed behind him.

The room was stunning. Spacious, elegant, beautifully decorated, any girl would’ve fallen in love with it instantly. But I couldn’t even enjoy its beauty. Because it wasn’t mine. It was his.

“My cupboard doesn’t have enough space. You can’t use it,” Ethan said coolly. “I don’t like sharing a bed, so sleep on the floor, or the couch, whatever works. Also, I hate noise. Especially your voice. So don’t speak unless necessary.”

I nodded quickly, afraid to show any emotion. He stared at me a moment longer, like he wanted to say more, then turned away and took out his clothes before walking into the bathroom.

As soon as the door shut, I exhaled in relief and slumped against the wall. These wedding clothes were beautiful but suffocating. I opened my suitcase and found a set of comfortable new clothes. Nothing fancy, just something I could breathe in.

I glanced at the bathroom. The sound of the shower masked everything. Do it fast, I told myself.

I unzipped my dress and began to peel it off, managing most of it with a small victory sigh. Just as I reached for the fresh clothes—

The bathroom door flew open.

“AHHHHHH!!!”

I dropped like a stone, squatting behind the bed to cover myself.

“What are you doing?” he asked casually, towel slung low on his hips, no concern in his tone.

“P-please! Can you go back inside? I—I’m changing…”

“This is my room. Why would I leave? If you’re uncomfortable, you leave.”

Tears prickled at my eyes. My fingers trembled against the floor.

“Please... I just need two minutes. I-I’ll do anything, just... please.”

There was a pause. Then his voice, colder than before.

“Fine. One minute.”

He shut the door again.

“Fifty-six seconds,” he called out like a timer.

I jumped up and yanked my shirt over my head, still tangled in the dress. I struggled to free myself while pulling on my shorts.

“Ten seconds.”

Panicked, I half-wriggled out of the dress, trying not to rip it, just as he reopened the door.

There I stood, tangled in fabric, my body twisted and awkward, my cheeks flushed with shame.

He laughed, actually laughed, as if it was a joke to him.

“How did they even get you into this thing in the first place?”

His eyes gleamed with mockery as he tilted his head toward me. “Need help?”

I blinked in confusion. “W-will you?”

He smirked, walked to the nightstand, and retrieved scissors.

My breath caught.

“No... wait... please don’t—”

He ignored me and began cutting the delicate fabric of my wedding dress.

I watched in horror, tears brimming as the fabric fell in pieces around me. The very dress that symbolized a turning point in my life was now being shredded without a second thought.

“Stop pretending,” he said harshly, eyes narrowing. “I know exactly what this is. You purposely changed while I was in the shower. Then you acted like the dress got stuck so I’d have to help you take it off.”

“What? No! I didn’t—”

“Oh please, don't give your old bullshit "I wasn't intending to do that". At least, give me something that can be believable"

I stood there in disbelief, silent tears were hanging on my eyelids. I gathered what was left of my dress and packed it quietly into my suitcase. My chest ached from the weight of humiliation.

“Turn off the lights before you sleep.”

His voice rang again, cold and indifferent.

I got up, blinking away tears, trying to move quietly in the dark. But my toe slammed into the corner of the table. I stumbled and fell—straight onto his arm.

“I’m—I’m sorry... I didn’t—”

Before I could explain, he grabbed me and flipped me onto the bed, pinning my wrists above my head. My body froze.

“You really want me to fuck you, don’t you?” he growled. “Is that it? Crawling into my bed like this?”

My eyes widened. “No—!”

His face moved closer, breath warm and sharp against my lips

“Then maybe I’ll just give you what you’re begging for.”

To be continued