I Think Married the Wrong Man... Not Knowing He Owns Bangkok

The midday city streets shimmered about them, shimmered in the bright, morning heat, making shadows dance and making the asphalt kiss devilish mirages that made the city feel so molten, so vigorous, so bright. Luna could recognize it immediately, the way the whitewashed clouds milled about in the sky, hovered over people‘s gaze, and the way people‘s gaze wavered, lingered on her, lit up with that familiar, “Do me a favor…“crackling din. Cars flashed by in crisp flashes of Prada, blue, and Mercedes, silver. Pinstripe businessmen's shoulders crashed through these archways with contended ease. Office and AV setup hipsters strutted by, heels clicking up the cobblestones, textures dancing over silk and chicweaved jackets. All the while, over bars and restaurants and park benches, a particular judgment was rifling in with wave after wave of “Oh, he married her…out of all people, him…? Luna hung on to Ethan. Walking beside him on Sukhumvit Road, her elbow pressed into his side amidst the crush. Her fingers flickered to and from, nonchalantly touching or not touching him, testing whether in the larger social world she could be out here and away from them all. The brunch at her apartment building was subdued, the table courteous and harried. I didn‘t care at all what they thought, she said. But arriving back in the more fashionable part of town, it was like they all been saying it for her, waiting for someone to take charge. “Will they ever quit that staring?” she wondered aloud, suddenly gripping Ethan‘s arm more than before. He didn‘t look rattled. Never looked rattled. His eye followed the street as he held still, watching me, unfazed and unoffended. “Their curiosity,” he told me, “isn‘t forever cruelty. But it can wear the very same face.” Watching him out of the corner of her eye, she saw he was watching her too. He moved with quiet ease; shoulders slightly back, stride unhurried, yet he never flinched or tried to make up for it, if you see what I mean. He didn‘t halt, he didn‘t pause, he didn‘t look remorseful. That consistency was amazing. She shivered just a little, not frightened, but with warmer, keener respect. Their first visit was a reception in an art gallery just off the high street... They truly were visual eaters. The light bounced off the shiny marble floorways, reflected by the huge, delicate chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Champagne-like flowing and the sounds of glasses clicking. What is that noise? Small talk started in the background. When they arrived, Luna and Ethan could see glances circulating. Not obvious but not too subtle, perhaps a slight flutter that she noticed right away. Just enough whispers to start immediately. Is that her? She married that guy? That's so normal... normal guy? A hot tingle snaked along her spine, and before she could jerk into her shell, Ethan‘s hand had grabbed hers. He didn‘t squeeze, he didn‘t speak. Just held on and kept her rooted in her body. “Nothing to worry about,” he said softly as he leaned into her. Warm and cool breath fluttered her ears. Luna inhaled deeply and nodded, desperate to borrow his calm. They penetrated more into the Gallery and stopped before a seemingly abstract piece, which Luna simply brushed off, and then, without warning, a familiar voice interrupted the hushed crowd. Luna! What an... Unlikely choice. Vanessa, justinside the door, with a glass in her hands, smiled as a razor, sharp as the blade. Luna turned and groped for any outward signs of emotion, and settled finally on as politely as she could manage. “Good afternoon, Vanessa.” Vanessa glared enviously at Ethan, less than impressed. “Wow, I didn‘t think I would ever see you marry someone like him,” she said in a nonchalant tone. “He even has... Aspirations, relatives, cash?” Luna felt her chest tighten, but she didn‘t get a chance to speak before Ethan leaned in towards her just a little and whispered in a voice so quiet only she could hear, “None of that matters. Only what you think do.” She took his hand in hers, managed to find his fingers in the blackness,s and squeezed. Love burst inside her. She looked her sister in the eyes and said, ‘I married him because I wanted to. And that‘s as much as I need to say.’ Vanessa let out a soft, unconvinced chuckle and floated away, too bored and too lost. It was a hollow sort of ache that trudged after the last one. Ethan didn‘t wallow in the emotion, but his thumb still lingered on Luna‘s knuckles in a gentle caress, slow and calming. We hadn‘t gone far when a second woman approached us, her clothes as silky as perfume, the golden smile sweet, but a little curious in her eye. ‘Luna, dear, ‘she leaned toward us. ‘Can I ask you something personal? Did you agree to marry him because you pity him? I don‘t think so, Luna thought, as the word struck her like a punch. What a shame. In an instant, she felt a wave of warm, solid energy form in her stomach. I‘m not going to retreat. “No,” she said hastily. I married him because I love him.” Again, the hand crossed hers in the same gesture, a soft pat and a minuscule shake of the head. “Let them say what they will,” he whispered conspiratorially, leaning forward. “The truth is ours. It felt intimate, it thrilled her so much, reassurance that it was only between them and its her alone to know, it wasn‘t known by the world. He pulls her close and kisses away the tiny kiss on her temple, then brushes her short bang back before she could repeat and shed it again. It is so tiny it‘s almost undetectable,e but she holds onto it. This is one of the reasons she picks him, not because he is safe or comfortable or because he is too good for her. Because with him, she feels real. But again, the gallery kept closing in. They watched them. The words floated free and were dispersed to the din, and the whispers were forming. She might have been married to wealth. To the station. To splendor. But she picked him. The pain was still there, but Ethan didn‘t appear to have noticed. He didn‘t need to put effort into appearing sure of himself; he was sure of himself. Seconds later, Luna‘s head found itself resting in front of a sculpture of collapsed steel and glass when her cell phone vibrated. The display flickered and illuminated itself with a message that damn near froze her blood. Quite interesting on Luna. This is very interesting. Sure, you have a lot of planning to do. Marcus. Her breath hitched. Ethan saw it immediately. He reached for her hand, taking it as he pulled her after him in silence. “They can‘t scare us,” he whispered. “Not us. We‘ll just continue as we were. Together.” She nodded and tilted her cheek against his shoulder. The lights in the gallery sparkled against the windows, thin flashes of color rushing past. It was the first time that the world didn‘t seem as unlivable as before. Their fragile embrace, the soft kisses, the silent words of comfort, love is still here, still alive. But once the evening slipped into the night, the tone relaxed once more. Everything was a little more pointed. Everything was a little more critical. Outside the gallery windows, the city shone in a gloomy glow; dazzled andamour wascerebrating. It was the risk and reward of beauty and censure. Once they were finally outside, neon lights shone through on a wet road, and the warm promises of the city hit like a punch to the stomach. Luna‘s cell once again vibrated. We will know the strength of your love by what you do tomorrow. As she read his note, numbing sensations swarmed around her. Ethan‘s fingers curled possessively and tightly around her hand, warm and unwavering. He seemed disengaged but in control, yet there was a flickering spark that shimmered in his hazel eyes. CHAPTER CLIFFHANGER: When she was out beneath the neon lights, litsky she saw it wasn‘t just Marcus‘s threats that were dangerous, but Ethan‘s unruffled calmness and that foolhardy conviction that he was more in control than he appeared to be. The stakes she‘d be facing tomorrow would be far more than her love. Tomorrow‘s revelations were meant to remain concealed deep in her soul, but when they surfaced, there would be nothing left of her marriage, her life, or the one she loved.