Chapter 6: The facade is falling

The car was so quiet that Ursula could hear her own heartbeat.

She sat stiffly, silk heavy on her skin, the weight of the wedding pressing down harder than the gown itself.

Outside the tinted glass the city lights blurred, but all she could see was her mother’s pale face behind hospital doors.

Her wedding night.

And she felt like she was being driven to a prison.

Ethan didn’t look at her. His eyes stayed on the dark window, his jaw hard. He didn’t speak, but she could feel something sharp around him, like a storm held in place.

Is this really my life now? she thought.

Her fingers dug into the folds of her dress until her nails hurt. The acrylic nails annoyed her.

When the gates opened, the house came into view again, too wide, too bright, too large to feel human.

Inside, everything glowed as usual.

Chandeliers, mirrors, polished wood. A world that did not belong to her. A world she hadn’t chosen.

Anthony bowed. “Your room is ready, Miss.”

Her stomach dropped. My room. Not ours.

At least, I'd have room to grieve.

Ethan gave no sign he heard. He was already pulling off his cufflinks, his movements calm, practiced, as though she were nothing more than another detail of the night.

“You’ll stay in the east wing,” he said. His voice was even, without warmth.

“If you need anything, ask Anthony. Don’t wander.”

Ursula wanted to scream, Why? Why did I even make this choice? For what? And in vain.

But her throat stayed locked.

Anthony led her away into her room.

When the door shut behind her, the silence was loud.

She tried to undo the gown, but the buttons ran like armor down her back. Her fingers slipped, her body shaking. Finally she slid to the floor, tears filling her eyes.

Her chest grew tight. Panic swelled.

She scrambled for her inhaler, pressed it to her lips, breathing in the hiss of medicine. Relief came jagged, not full. She stayed on the cold marble, dress spilling around her like chains.

The door creaked.

Her heart jumped.

Ethan stood there, no longer in a tuxedo but in a plain shirt. His eyes flicked over her.

His bride on the floor, inhaler clutched like a lifeline.

“Are you.. asthmatic?”

She raised her head and bowed it back down.

He walked towards her and pulled her up by the arm.

His nails dung into her upper arm.

“You're going to have to learn to respond when I talk to you, okay? Why didn't you tell me you were asthmatic?”

She had to look at him, her head vibrated, hot tears pouring and her hazel eyes now wrapped in redness.

Something in him almost melted.

For a moment, he almost said sorry.

Almost.

But then his face shut down again.

He withdrew his hand causing her to fall hopelessly to the ground.

Why can't you just put yourself together? Why are you making me feel like a bad person? It's business. I give and I take.

“You should rest,” he said, instead.

His voice was quiet but cold.

“Tomorrow the press will want more pictures.”

Ursula’s voice cracked. “Why did you not let me see her…at least..once?”

The words broke out before she could stop them.

His jaw tightened. For a second, pity flashed in his eyes, then guilt, a softness he didn’t want to show. She looks so helpless, he thought. So breakable. But the thought burned. He crushed it quickly.

“You think this is about sentiment?” His laugh was short, bitter. “This marriage is business. You needed money. I needed your womb.”

Your womb. The phrase hurt her more than any slap could.

“Do you have a mother?”

His eyes narrowed.

“If you mention my loved ones again, I'll make you suffer”

Her breath caught. She wanted to ask what he meant, but he had already turned away.

At the door he stopped. His hand rested on the frame, his back to her.

For a heartbeat, he almost looked back. Almost let her see the shadow in him, the memory of his childhood.

But he didn’t.

“Don’t mistake this marriage for love,” he said, voice hard again. “If you stay in your place, you’ll have respect. That’s all.”

The door closed.

Ursula stared at the roses. Respect, he said. But all she felt was grief, shame, and the sharp emptiness of a life she had not chosen.

She crawled onto the bed, hugging herself tight. The sheets smelled clean, too clean, like something that would never belong to her.

Her last thought before sleep took her was not of Ethan, or of her new life, but of her mother, weak and fading, and of her own helplessness.

In the next wing of the house, Ethan poured himself a glass of whiskey.

He stared at the amber liquid, but saw only her face, his bride, broken and small on the marble floor.

Something inside him twisted.

I can’t let pity ruin this, he thought. Not again.

But when he closed his eyes, he still saw her eyes wide and red, voice shaking, asking why he didn't let her see her mother.

And asking him if even has one.

His memory flashed to his dark childhood.

Mom. Dad. No. Dad, I'm sorry, wake up, forgive me. I didn't meant to, mom. No! Don't take them away! Leave me alone.

The voice of a teenage boy rang in his head.

The glass trembled in his hand.

Tears threatened to come out of his eyes.

It almost swallowed him.

He opened his eyes and gasped.

And in Ursula's room, she lay awake, still in her glossy white diamond wedding dress.

A very loud knock on her door.

She wiped away her tears.

Her palm had traces of washed off foundation on it.

She opened the door.

Camilla.

In a red silky night gown.

"Awwn, you seem to be enjoying your wedding night...I can see that your husband hasn't even taken off your clothes...how pathetic" Camilla mocked.

Ursula said nothing.

She just wanted to be left alone.

"Are you deaf? I'm talking to you, bitch" said in a low voice and pushed her lightly.

"...I"

But before Ursula could even start the sentence, she was interrupted by the footsteps of Anthony walking towards her room.

Camilla pretended to smile.

"Good evening, Miss Camilla. Good evening, Mrs Ursula"

"Good evening" she muttered looking away from him as he had noticed her red eyes and made a weird facial expression that he thought he hid on time.

"This...is for you. These are the things you'd be saying tomorrow. Please, practice tonight."

He handed a script to her.

"Goodnight, ladies"

Camilla looked at Ursula from up to down and walked away after Anthony.

Ursula shut the door in sobs.

She threw the script on the floor and threw herself on the bed, screaming in the soft pillow till she got tired.

Mum..why did you leave me?