Chapter 6 CHAPTER SIX: FROZEN, TENSED MAN.
ZARA
There was nothing private and low-key about this wedding; my mom had gone all out, making sure that even though we were using the garden out back instead of the Garden Queen Hall, it was still a wedding befitting of the Crawfords. The floors were adorned with expensive exotic flowers, and everything looked perfect.
The door to my room opened, and my cousin Amara stood there. It had been ages since I had seen her. I pushed the makeup artist out of the way and rushed to her. She had a sad smile on her face, the same one I saw in all her pictures and on video calls.
I buried my face into her body, taking in all of her scent, which had changed over the years. She used to smell of home and warmth, but now she smelt of old money, comfort and wealth.
“I can’t believe you are here.”
“And miss your wedding? Not for anything in the world.”
I pulled away and stared at her, trying to memorise her face because I knew it was going to be ages before I saw her again. I was shocked her controlling husband had let her out.
“He’s not bad,” she would say when we spoke. “He just doesn’t know how to trust yet.”
The only reason I hadn't stormed abroad to get her out of his house is that she tells me he treats her like a queen. She might not necessarily be happy being married to him; after all, her father and stepmother had given her away to secure billions in investments, but he knew how to treat her right.
She had never loved him, but he was a good man.
“Your husband let you come?” I asked as I pulled her into the room, settling back into the chair as the makeup artist resumed her job to make me look the best today.
“Actually,” she smacked her lips and shrugged. “We came together.”
“What?” I was shocked to hear that. I was thoroughly convinced that he didn't like me; after all, I was the one trying to ruin their union before they ever got together. “Does he think I am still the spoilt, entitled brat?”
“Yes, he does.”
“Then?”
“He came because I was coming…”
“And he couldn’t bear to let you come on your own?”
“Noah is a good guy; you just have him misunderstood.”
I hummed and nodded. If she said so, then I had no right to disagree. “As long as you are okay and happy.”
Happy was overstretching it but she smiled at me and tried to shift the focus back to me.
“So you’re getting married?” She squealed like this was some true love moment. “I never thought it was going to happen.”
“Well, we knew it was coming.”
We all knew that was the only way my father was ever going to leave the company to me, and I had worked really hard to ensure I took over; I wasn't going to let marriage ever stop me.
“I just thought you’d end up an old spinster.”
“Hey, that’s mean.” I throw the brush in my lap to her. She shifted and stuck out her tongue at me.
“But as expected, Zara made her own rules.”
“Let me guess, my parents fed you the story already?”
“The whole thing,” she smirked, but I could see pride in there. She was proud that I dared to go against my parents and choose what I wanted.
She wanted to do that, but she would say. "Zara, I am not as courageous as you are and choosing to marry Noah takes courage as well."
“It’s not what I want, but it is my choice.”
“And I heard he is breathtaking,” she said, teasing me this time. “Girl…”
“Oh, please, Amara.” I tried to hide the blush and warmth against my cheek but knew I was failing terribly.
The ceremony began, and my father walked me down the aisle. He kept on sniffing as if he had spent the entire morning crying. The wedding ceremony was brisk and short, just the basic traditional vows and in thirty minutes the priest declared.
“You can now kiss the bride.”
It was not the first time I was kissing him, yet why did my stomach rumble and my toes curl? He held me by the waist, lifting my veil – the one my mother had mandated that I wear – and pressed his lips against mine. Soft and short before he pulled away.
Cheers erupted in the crowd, spearheaded by Amara.
The crowd settled into a small reception that my mom had planned – not small as we would call it, but a few people who didn't need to be there but were already there.
“This is Leo, a friend of mine who stood as a witness.”
Leo sent a smile at me and stretched his hand for a handshake, but one stare from Micheal and he took his hand back.
“It’s lovely to meet the man who stole his heart.”
“Is that what he said?” I asked.
There was not supposed to be any drama attached to this wedding and our marriage. Everything was fake and on paper but the way he kissed me felt real and his steady hand on my waist as we weaved through the hall trying to greet the guest felt realer.
“I will leave you two now to be the happy couple that you are.” Leo backed away; there was something about that interaction right now that didn’t feel normal.
Something odd I couldn't place my fingers on. I shrugged and noticed a woman, tall, with jet-black hair in waves neatly styled into a half up and down, with accessories that would cost a fortune in her hair. She was rich but I had no idea who she was so why was she here?
Michael had only invited one guest, Leo, who was now chatting by the bar. So who was this woman?
She caught my eye and offered a slow, polished smile. The kind that looked practiced, the kind that hides more than it shows. Plucking a champagne flute from a passing tray, she took a deliberate sip and began gliding toward us.
“Ai—Michael,” she called out, the first syllable sharp and abrupt before it softened into his name.
My hand was tucked in the crook of Michael’s arm, and I felt him go rigid. Just for a second. A sudden tension that locked his muscles before dissolving as quickly as it came. When I glanced up, his smile was still in place, though it seemed a beat too still.
The woman continued forward, but before she could reach us, Leo smoothly stepped into her path, engaging her in easy conversation.
I leaned closer to Michael, lowering my voice. “What did she just call you?”
He turned to me, his expression light and unbothered. “Michael, of course” He chuckled softly, as though I’d told a mildly amusing joke. “You must have misheard.”
Maybe I did. Maybe it was the champagne, or the noise, or my own mind playing tricks. I replayed the moment, the clipped “Ai-” that didn’t quite land, her poised correction, Michael’s fleeting stiffness. Could it have been nothing?
I studied my husband’s face, calm, open, reassuring. This was Michael. My Michael. There was no reason for him to lie, no secret to keep.
Still, the whisper of doubt hovered, quiet but persistent.