Zane_g07

She was never meant to be the bride… but she became his wife.


Evelyn Hart returned to her home country expecting a quiet break before her next semester abroad. Instead, her sister handed her a bridal dress and a carefully planted lie. Blinded by trust and buried feelings, Evelyn stepped into a wedding she never truly understood — until it was too late.

At the altar, she said “I do”…
To the wrong man.
Or maybe, to the man she had always loved — Zyden Cross — who now sees her as nothing but a manipulative fraud.

Zyden is cold, powerful, and dangerously private. Once misled about Evelyn’s past, he now believes she stole his future. Forced into marriage by family reputation and media pressure, he wants nothing to do with the quiet girl who wears his ring… and his last name.

But Evelyn isn’t the naive girl from high school anymore. Behind her silence is a storm.
Behind his anger is pain he can’t name.

As hidden truths surface and tangled hearts collide, both must decide —
Is this marriage just a lie built for appearances?
Or a second chance fate handed to the wrong bride?

In a world built on loyalty and lies, can love grow where trust was never planted?

The vows meant for another

The estate had a stillness that pressed against your skin — not cold, but quiet in a way that asked you to listen.

I woke before the sun fully broke the horizon, the soft light brushing through the cream curtains. I didn't sleep much, not deeply. The sheets were soft, the room perfectly warm, but my mind had stayed tangled in things unsaid — in the strangeness of sharing a house with him, in the ache of pretending.

And I certainly didn't expect to find the kitchen already smelling like coffee.

Seated at the end of the long oak table, sleeves rolled halfway up, reading something on his phone. One hand loosely holding a white ceramic mug.

No suit. No boardroom. No parents watching. No cameras.

And for a second, he looked… young.

Not soft. Never that. But less like the version of him the world always saw.

He noticed me standing at the doorway, and our eyes met.

"Morning," I said, quieter than necessary.

He didn't smile. But he nodded. "Coffee's fresh."

I walked in and poured myself a cup, fingers brushing the side of the mug for warmth more than the taste.

Two people, in the silence of a house that didn't know what to do with us.

"Do you like mornings?" I asked without looking at him.

He glanced up, mildly surprised. "Not particularly."

"But they're quieter here," I added, eyes on the garden outside. "Less pressure to perform."

Then: "This house doesn't need anything from us."

"No expectations," he explained. "No family. No tabloids. Just space."

I nodded slowly. "Feels unfamiliar."

He looked at me. "So does silence, apparently."

I wasn't sure if that was about him, or me. Or both.

After a few more minutes, he stood, refilled his cup, and left the room.

But not before glancing back once.

I wandered into the garden around ten, drawn by the pull of the lavender and the soft murmur of birds overhead.

The estate's beauty wasn't loud. It was subtle. Honest.

Stone paths lined with moss. Benches placed in corners no one remembered. Sunlight filtering through trees like secrets spilled across marble.

I sat on a small stone bench near the center — hidden between hedges and wild roses. From there, I could still see the balcony to my room and the one across it.

He hadn't drawn the curtains today.

But somehow, I knew he'd been watching too.

I thought of the conversation over coffee.

Just… two people with broken timelines trying not to trip over each other's silence.

But it was more than I had yesterday.

The way she sat in the garden, tracing the shape of a leaf between her fingers. The way her eyes drifted upward when the wind moved the trees.

But soft like the pages of a book you've left pressed shut too long.

I didn't understand her. Not entirely.

But I was beginning to see that maybe — maybe — I'd never tried to.

Not after that day in high school. Not after the lies.

And even now… I wasn't ready to forgive.

I wasn't trying to hate her either.

Chapter 11: Mornings Are Quieter Here