Hazel sat motionless on the edge of the bed, her fingers curling around the edge of the mattress. In front of her, laid out neatly, was the wedding dress.
She stared at it, her jaw tightening. You must be kidding me, Chris, she thought bitterly. If you think I’d ever agree to marry you, you’re more delusional than I thought.
The sight of the dress alone made her stomach churn. It wasn’t just a dress—it was a symbol of everything he was trying to take from her. Her freedom. Her voice. Her will.
With a frustrated breath, she grabbed the dress by its hanger and flung it across the room. It landed with a dull thud on the floor just as the door clicked open.
Chris entered.
Hazel’s eyes narrowed as she turned to face him, disbelief written all over her face. He was already dressed in a tailored suit—polished, calm, collected. Like this was the happiest day of his life.
His gaze dropped to the fallen dress on the floor, and something shifted in his face.
His grip on the doorknob tightened.
He walked in silently, picked up the dress, and without a word, placed it back on the bed in front of her.
"Go and wear this," he said firmly. "We’re already late. Mom and Dad must be on their way to the church by now."
Hazel didn’t move. She looked at him as if he had completely lost his mind.
"What?" he snapped. "Get up."
She met his eyes, voice low and sharp. “I’m not marrying you.”
He didn’t even flinch. “I didn’t ask you,” he replied coldly. “You are marrying me.”
Hazel looked away, clenching her fists.
Chris’s patience snapped. He grabbed her arm and yanked her up from the bed, forcing her to face him.
“Don’t you hear me?” he growled, shaking her slightly. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”
Her eyes met his, burning with defiance. “I’m not marrying you, Chris! What made you think I’d ever agree to this insane—”
“As if you have a choice,” he interrupted, his tone cold and final.
He grabbed the dress and shoved it into her hands.
“Wear it. You have ten minutes. I’ll be waiting outside.”
Hazel didn’t take it. She just stared at him.
“And if I don’t?” she asked quietly, dangerously.
Chris leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “Then forget the traditional ceremony. We’ll get married on paper right here. Legally. I have everything ready. I don’t need your consent—I can force you. Fine by me.”
His words hung in the air like poison.
He let her go and took a step back, nodding toward the bathroom.
“Go. Wear it.”
Hazel didn’t move. Her eyes searched his face, looking for anything but madness.
But there was nothing. Only control. Possession. Madness.
“Go already,” he repeated, voice heavier, darker.
Something changed in her eyes.
She exhaled, slow and shaky, her heart thundering in her chest. Without another word, she turned and walked toward the washroom, the dress still in her hands.
The door closed behind her with a soft click, but the silence that followed was deafening.
***
She placed the dress on the counter and slowly lifted her gaze to the mirror. Her reflection stared back—tired, angry, and full of defiance.
Marriage with you, Chris? It’s never going to happen. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever, she told herself silently, her jaw clenching.
Her eyes drifted to the dress again, lying there like a silent threat.
A bitter laugh escaped her lips—not out loud, just in her head.
Still, she exhaled deeply, forcing herself to stay composed. Her fingers brushed over the fabric.
“Let’s get ready,” she whispered under her breath—not out of acceptance, but as a promise to herself. A promise that this wasn’t surrender.
***
Hazel stepped out of the washroom, her eyes landing on two unfamiliar girls standing in the room, both dressed professionally and carrying makeup kits.
“Good afternoon, ma’am. We’re here to do your makeup,” one of them said with a polite smile.
Hazel glanced around, her voice sharp. “Where did he go?”
“I’m right outside,” Chris’s voice echoed from beyond the door.
She exhaled slowly, her shoulders tense.
“Please, have a seat,” the girl gestured toward the vanity.
Hazel hesitated for a second, then shook her head in quiet disbelief and walked over, sitting down in front of the mirror.
Her eyes met her reflection, and a storm swirled behind them.
Just let me get out of here once, Chris, she whispered silently to the girl in the mirror. Just one chance, and I swear I’ll run so far, you’ll never find me again.
The girls got to work quickly, dusting powder, applying blush, brushing her hair into soft waves. In less than fifteen minutes, they were done.
“You look beautiful,” one of them said with a warm smile.
Hazel looked at herself in the mirror, surprised for a moment. The dress fit her perfectly, her makeup was flawless, and the soft curls framed her face like a bride from a picture.
Well, she thought, I don’t look bad as a bride.
But her expression hardened.
Sorry, Chris. You, on the other hand, look terrible—not on the outside, but where it truly matters. Inside. As if I care how about you . about this twisted ceremony. You say I have no choice? You’re wrong. I do have a choice—the only one that matters: to get away from you.
She kept her face blank, emotionless, while fire burned in her chest.
And silently, she began counting the minutes until she could run.
***
As the door opened, Chris turned sharply at the sound.
“She’s ready, sir,” one of the girls said politely before both of them stepped aside.
Hazel appeared in the doorway.
Chris’s eyes locked onto her, and for a long moment, he didn’t move. He just stood there—silent, staring.
Hazel stood tall, her expression unreadable, but the sight of her was enough to steal the breath from the room.
She wore a stunning off-shoulder white gown that hugged her upper body delicately before flowing into a soft, airy flare at the bottom. The dress swayed gently with her every breath, a perfect blend of grace and quiet rebellion. It was simple, yet elegant—just like her. No heavy jewelry. No dramatic makeup. Just a subtle touch of blush, a faint sheen on her lips, and a soft glow on her skin that brought out the natural beauty of her features.
Her long, dark hair cascaded freely over her shoulders, glossy waves that framed her face and touched the bare skin of her collarbones. A few loose strands fell near her cheek, catching the light as she moved.
She looked like a dream—a picture-perfect bride.
But her eyes… her eyes told a different story.
There was no joy in them. No spark of celebration. Only quiet defiance, and a calm, simmering rage hidden beneath her composed face.
Chris took a slow step forward, drinking in the sight of her.
“You look…” he trailed off, almost at a loss for words. “...like everything I’ve ever wanted.”
Hazel didn’t flinch. She lifted her chin slightly, staring straight into his eyes.
“If you’re done staring,” Hazel said coolly, “shall we go?”
Chris raised an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing slightly as his hands slid into his pockets. “Are you planning something?” he asked, voice casual, but his gaze sharp and assessing.
Hazel’s lips curled into a faint, mocking smile. “As if I’d tell you.”
A low, humorless chuckle escaped him. “Whatever it is… it won’t work.” He extended a hand toward her. “Let’s go, then.”
She didn’t take it.
Instead, Hazel brushed past him without a word and stepped out of the room, her heels clicking softly against the wooden floor.
Chris stared at her back for a moment, then smirked to himself. “Alright,” he muttered under his breath, “ladies first.”
He followed her, matching her pace, and once they reached outside, he walked ahead and opened the car door for her.
Hazel slid into the seat without glancing his way, her posture stiff, eyes focused ahead like she was somewhere else—anywhere but here.
Chris walked around the car, got in on the other side, and settled beside her. With a nod to the driver, he gave the signal. “Drive.”
As the car rolled forward, he turned slightly, watching her.
Hazel didn’t meet his gaze. She turned her face toward the window, the outside world reflecting in her eyes, her expression unreadable.
Chris smiled faintly, as if amused by her silence.
“You can look away all you want, Hazel,” he murmured, almost to himself. “But it won’t change what’s waiting at the end of this road.”
Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t respond.
The ride continued, thick with tension, each of them lost in their own storm of thoughts.
***
Vincent's eyes flinched open, and a sharp pain shot through his body the moment he stirred. A low groan escaped his lips as he slowly blinked, his vision adjusting to the dim, unfamiliar surroundings.
His heart dropped.
He was tied to a chair. The room around him was empty—no windows, just four cold, concrete walls echoing silence.
Memories of what had happened came crashing back in a wave. The argument. The blow to the head. The trap.
And then Hazel… being forced.
Panic surged through him.
No... he can't do this to her. He can't force her like this Vincent muttered under his breath, tugging at the ropes that bound his wrists. I have to get out. I have to stop this.
He twisted his arms, the coarse rope biting into his skin, but it was tied cruelly tight—whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing.
Still, he didn’t give up. He kept pulling, kept struggling, his muscles burning with effort. But the ropes didn’t budge. Not even a little.
His breaths turned shaky. A bead of sweat slid down his temple.
"Come on... come on," he hissed, fighting against the helplessness rising inside him.
The room remained cold. Silent.
Hopeless.
But Vincent wasn’t done yet.
Not while she was still in danger.
***
Oh gosh, how am I going to get a chance to escape like this? Hazel thought as she stared out the window, frustration building in her chest. There's no traffic, no signals, nothing. The road is just wide open. How the hell am I supposed to run away like this?
As if reading her mind, Chris leaned slightly toward her. “We’ll only stop at the church,” he said firmly, his voice cold.
Hazel turned her gaze toward him, her expression blank, hiding the rage burning within her. “You really think I don’t know what you’re planning?” Chris continued, eyes narrowing. “Escape isn't an option, Hazel. You will marry me today—at any cost.”
“In your dreams, Chris,” she muttered silently, lips pressed into a thin line.
The car sped forward smoothly, devouring distance with every second. Hazel glanced at the road ahead, her hope draining. At this rate, we’ll reach the church without a single stop. God… I wish we’d just get into an accident. That would be better than marrying this lunatic.
And just as those words crossed her mind, the unexpected happened.
The car in front of them screeched to a sudden halt. Their driver barely had time to react before their car slammed into it with a loud crash.
“What the hell?” Chris barked, his body jerking forward from the impact.
Hazel’s eyes widened. Wait... did that really just happen? she thought, barely able to hide her shock.
The driver stepped out, rushing toward the car in front. An argument broke out between them, voices raised and heated.
Chris tapped his fingers impatiently on his knee. “What’s taking him so long?”
“They’re asking for money,” the driver called back after a few minutes.
Chris frowned. “Money? For what?”
“They said we damaged their car,” the driver replied, looking confused.
Chris scoffed. “What the hell? They were the ones who stopped in the middle of the road!”
Hazel leaned back slightly, eyes scanning the scene. Yes... keep arguing. Just give me one chance she pleaded in her head.
But instead of stepping out, Chris pulled out some cash and held it out to the driver.
Hazel acted fast. She snatched the money and threw it out of her window.
Chris turned sharply toward her. “What was that, Hazel?” he asked, a laugh escaping despite himself.
She shrugged innocently, feigning confusion. “I don’t know. My hand slipped?”
He rolled his eyes and dug into his wallet again. “Your cheap tricks aren’t going to work on me,” he said, handing more money to the driver.
Hazel watched him closely, her heart thudding against her ribs.
“They’re asking for more,” the driver said. “They claim it’s a brand-new car.”
Chris groaned. “Unbelievable.”
With that, he finally stepped out of the car to argue with them directly.
Hazel’s heart skipped a beat. This was it. Her chance.
Stars have aligned for me she thought with a smirk, her pulse racing.
With Chris and the driver distracted, she quickly slid into the driver’s seat. The keys were still in the ignition. “Idiot,” she whispered under her breath.
She steadied her breathing. Gripped the wheel. Goodbye, Chris.
The engine roared to life.
Chris whipped his head around. “Hazel! Don’t you dare—”
But it was too late.
Before he could move, she slammed the car into reverse, backed up hard, spun the steering, and tore away down the road at full speed.
They both lunged toward the car, but she was already gone—slipping right through their fingers.
Hazel caught a glimpse of Chris’s furious face in the rearview mirror.
Sorry, not sorry, Chris, she thought with a smug smile, exhaled deeply, and pressed her foot harder on the gas.
To My Lovely Readers,
I just want to take a moment to thank each and every one of you for your love, support, and constant encouragement. Every read, vote, comment, and message means the world to me. You’re the reason I keep writing, keep creating, and keep believing in the stories I tell.
Your support turns my words into something more—it gives them life. Whether you’ve been with me since the beginning or just joined recently, know that you are deeply appreciated. This journey wouldn’t be the same without you.
Let’s continue growing together, exploring new emotions, falling in love with characters, and diving into stories that stay with us long after the last chapter.
With all my heart,
– Your Author, primpetal ❤
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