normal couple

The luxury boutique was draped in the finest silks, dazzling jewelry, and a team of eager attendants waiting to serve. Yet, the atmosphere between the soon-to-be-wedded couple was anything but harmonious.

Sirena strolled past the rows of designer gowns with an air of practiced indifference, trailing her fingers along the fabric as though selecting a war weapon rather than a dress. Damian, standing a few feet away with his arms crossed, exuded barely concealed irritation.

"Let's make this quick," he said, his voice low and sharp. "I have better things to do than play dress-up with you."

Serena turned to him with a smirk. "Oh? Afraid you'll actually enjoy it? Don't worry, Damian, I won't make you try on a tiara—unless you insist."

Damian exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples. "Why do you have to be insufferable every second of the day?"

Serena feigned a pout. "It's a talent. Would you prefer a dull, obedient wife? How unfortunate for you—I come in only one version."

His gaze darkened, and for a brief moment, he stepped closer. "You mistake my patience for amusement, Serena."

She leaned in just enough to invade his space, tilting her head playfully. "And you mistake my charm for a lack of cunning."

The attendant, sensing the tension, cleared her throat nervously. "Would the lady like to try on some gowns?"

Sirena smiled sweetly, her siren nature slipping through as she turned her attention to the boutique staff. "Of course, darling. But only the finest will do."

Damian took a step back, running a hand through his hair. "I need a break from you before I lose my mind. Enjoy your theatrics—I'll be outside."

With that, he spun on his heel and left, the bell on the door jingling behind him. Serena watched him go with a victorious glint in her eyes.

"Poor thing," she murmured, turning back to the attendants. "Shall we have some fun?"

Within minutes, she had the entire boutique wrapped around her little finger. The once-stiff attendants were laughing, twirling in gowns themselves, their inhibitions stripped away as if caught in an enchanting melody only Serena could conduct. The boutique owner, a reserved woman in her fifties, was humming along to a song she didn't remember starting.

Serena sat on a plush chaise, lazily sipping champagne as she watched the scene unfold. Ah, the power of persuasion.

Just as she admired her handiwork, the door swung open, and Damian strode back in, only to be met with the absurd sight of a group of staff and high-profile customers twirling around like a royal ball had erupted in the middle of the store.

His gaze snapped to Serena. "What the hell did you do?"

Serena lifted a perfectly arched brow. "I simply encouraged them to have fun."

He sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "You are a menace."

"And yet, you're still going to marry me," she quipped, standing and smoothing down her dress. "Now, be a good fiancé and pick out a suit. Or would you rather I do it for you? I promise to pick something bold.

---------------------------------------------------

"I'm not spending my entire day here," he muttered, adjusting the cuffs of his crisp white shirt.

Serena smirked. "And here I thought you were eager to dress up like a good little husband."

Damian gave her a sharp look. "I don't play house, Serena."

His jaw tensed, but he didn't take the bait. Instead, he gestured toward the tailor who had been waiting for them. "Get on with it."

For the next hour, they were forced to endure measurements, fabric selections, and adjustments that tested both their patience. Serena was perfectly at ease, enjoying every moment of watching Damian struggle to pretend he wasn't irritated.

As Damian struggled to put on his jacket, he muttered curses under his breath, his frustration evident.

Serena watched with amusement, shaking her head. This man is moodier than a teenager, she thought.

But by the time she turned toward the mirror, slipping into a shimmering red gown that hugged her curves, even he faltered.

Just for a second.

Serena caught it. The way his gray eyes darkened, the slight flare of his nostrils—like a wolf catching the scent of something tempting.

Interesting.

She stepped closer, adjusting the dress in the mirror. "What do you think, dear husband-to-be?"

Damian's gaze swept over her, unimpressed. "It'll do."

Serena laughed. "Cold as ever."

He was done. With a low exhale, he pulled off the fitted jacket he had been trying on and tossed it onto the couch. "I'll be outside. Do whatever you want."

_____________________________________

The restaurant was dimly lit, candlelight flickering against polished tables and elegant chandeliers. Couples filled the space, whispering sweet nothings over gourmet meals.

Serena and Damian?

They were just trying not to grimace.

The dishes were elaborate, the scents rich—but to them, it was nothing more than human food.

Serena pushed a piece of steak around her plate, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

She was craving something raw. Something with a heartbeat. If she could, she would have been indulging in a fresh, bleeding heart of some wild animal. But instead, she was stuck here, pretending to enjoy cooked meat.

Across from her, Damian was just as miserable.

He had gone too long without feeding. His fangs ached, his thirst an ever-present reminder of his nature.

And after spending an entire day dealing with his annoying fiancée, the last thing he wanted to do was sit through a meal he couldn't even stomach.

But neither of them could break character. Not here.

So they played their parts—pretending to chew, making small gestures to feign normalcy, all while hiding what they truly craved.