Forced to Marry My Bully

I never liked cars with too much room in the back.

The partition was up, closing us off from the front, leaving anyone outside to wonder what he and I might be doing back there.

But today, Ethan was quieter than usual.

I was shaking uncontrollably, and despite the temperature rising in the car, I couldn’t stop.

He ignored my reaction and pulled me into his arms.

"Alice, are you that scared?"

His whisper brushed against my ear, and he knew exactly why I was trembling.

"I’ll take you to pick out a wedding dress later, okay?"

I managed to steady my trembling, but a bitter laugh escaped my lips.

Who would have thought that the man who once pushed me into the abyss was now gently telling me he wanted to take me to pick out a wedding dress?

…

Ethan took me to a boutique located in a private villa.

The crystal chandelier reflected dazzling light, illuminating the wedding dresses displayed on mannequins, making them sparkle.

I had no interest in looking or choosing a dress. I let Ethan and the designer discuss which style to customize for me while the assistant measured my body dimensions.

The shop’s backyard was a small garden, which caught my attention more than the dresses.

So, while they were talking, I lifted my skirt and wandered to the small pond in the backyard.

There was a door at the back of the garden, and beyond it seemed like a path to unlimited freedom.

I’d thought about running away countless times.

But when I finally mustered the courage, I was disheartened to realize I had nowhere to go.

My mother was desperate for me to marry Ethan, pulling my hand and urging me not to resist.

I sat by the small pond, waiting until Ethan finished his conversation and came to find me.

"What are you thinking about?"

Ethan always had this air about him, as though he were above everyone else.

So, I exposed my arm to him.

On my wrist was a small red mark.

It was a round scar, with a raised, thickened ring around the edges.

"Look, you burned me with your cigarette."

I was referring to that day in high school when he, in a bad mood, dragged me to a corner and pressed the cigarette butt against my skin.

It hurt so badly that I forgot everything else he did afterward.

He stared at the mark for a long moment before squatting in front of me.

As much as I hated to admit it, Ethan’s face was flawless.

It was perfect like it had been sculpted by one of history's greatest artists.

If he gazed at someone with such soft, gentle eyes, I imagined anyone would drown in them.

Maybe that was why the Bible said the devil had the most enchanting face.

The light from his lighter flickered as he lit a cigarette in front of me.

I flinched instinctively, afraid the burning tip would land on my arm again.

But the next second, he calmly pressed the cigarette out against his own wrist, right at the same spot where he had left a scar on me.

He quietly watched me, his voice soft. "Does this make you feel better, Alice?"

I didn’t reply, lowering my gaze.

The cigarette ash flickered, and the fresh wound on his wrist stood out painfully.

Suddenly, he reached out and pulled me into his embrace.

"Alice, I wish I could take some of your pain."

The fireflies slowly rose above the pond as I stared at the shimmering moonlight.

"Ethan, you know those pains were caused by you."

His body stiffened for a moment, then he slowly began to caress my hair.

"Then let me atone, okay?"

I fell silent.

…

After Ethan left this morning, I threw the glass of milk at the television, just like before.

At times like this, the staff would usually warm up another glass of milk and hand it to me.

But today, I didn’t want any.