Flashback

The first time she met Ethan, she’d mistaken his smile for kindness. They knew each other from high school but things started getting weird in college.

It was during orientation—everyone had laughed at her for some reason she didn’t understand. She had smiled, awkward and confused, trying to seem unbothered.

Ethan had tilted his head at her like she was a puzzle he didn’t care enough to solve.

“Do you really think you can be one of us? Someone like you—Pfft.”

The laughter had stung. But it was only the beginning.

____

The next day, someone spilled hot coffee on her. She flinched but seeing her classmate Emma, she dropped the idea of asking to apologise.

Emma, Ethan's childhood friend, she knows her since High school but they never talked even though they were in the same stream. She knew Emma for so long so she brushed off the coffee with a smile but Emma started blaming her.

“What the fuck? Can’t you watch where you’re going?”

Later, during an argument with another student, Ethan arrived.

"She ruined my assignment! I worked all night!"

"I-I didn’t—"

"Of course you didn’t. Just like you didn’t steal that book. Just like you didn’t humiliate my friend.."

"Please... listen to me. I’m not doing anything wrong. You all keep—"

"Oh my god, Ethan why are we even talking to her right now. I don't want to waste my time anymore"

Emma cried in irritation as if Violet wanted to continue the fight.

"Emma, Y-You know it's not m-my fault. Wh-Why are doing this to m-me? I've not said anything that doesn't mean I wo-would tolerate everything with my mouth shut"

He leaned in close, his voice a low threat.

"What are you going to do? Go cry to the Dean?"

"Y-yes, if you won't stop this..! " she snapped, trembling.

And after that day, the real cruelty began.

---

One evening, someone told her she had forgotten her bag in an empty room. When she went to retrieve it, they locked the door behind her. She screamed and pounded on the door.

"Please! Please! I’m scared!"

Nothing.

Then laughter. Male voices. Ethan’s voice.

She slid to the floor, fists clenched, sobbing quietly into her knees. She stayed there for hours until finally someone let her out.

She wiped her face, ran for the gate—and saw them. Ethan and his friends, laughing like children who’d pulled off a prank.

Something inside her snapped.

She stormed up to him and slapped him, her voice trembling with fury.

“I never thought you go this far. I feel sorry for your mother—for raising someone like you. You’re a really a cowered pathetic guy.”

His face flushed deep red. He didn’t speak. He stepped forward and grabbed her neck, squeezing just hard enough to make her panic.

Her eyes went wide. His grip wasn't violent. It was worse—it was controlled. Calm. Calculated.

His friends didn’t move.

The sound of approaching footsteps made him stop. He released her, leaned in, and whispered:

“You’ll regret that.”

He was right.

______

From that day on, college became a living nightmare.

People ignored her. Her food would vanish before she got to the table. Her notes stolen. Her name was written on bathroom walls. She became invisible to teachers, erased by whispers and laughter.

The final straw had been the presentation—when her USB drive was switched with a video of her dancing clumsily alone in her room, a clip no one should’ve seen.

Everyone laughed. Even the professors.

But what broke her wasn't the humiliation. It was that he always watched it happen. And smiled.

____

And now, as she sat dressed like a bride, watching him approach like a groom, her chest felt like it was caving in.

Ethan.

The boy who had shattered her once... was the man being handed her future.

And everyone expected her to smile.

Ethan smirked

"I almost didn't recognize you. You look totally different today."

Their parents were relieved to see that they knew each other, unaware of the strained relationship between them.

"She usually dresses like this, except for college. She doesn't want to be the center of attention because she is very serious about her studies. But she is not like what she shows in college."

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief and scoffed after listening her mother. He was right; she was pretending to be all innocent and naive when, in reality, she was not. Violet's hands were trembling under the table, and she kept looking down. She was on the verge of tears because she felt so unlucky and scared.

"It's good that you guys know each other. So, we can proceed with the marriage as soon as possible."

"Great! I've already selected a designer for my daughter's wedding dress."

Violet looked up, wanting to refuse so badly, but she couldn't say a single word in front of them. She looked at him and saw him staring at her with his signature smirk, and she gulped before looking away.

"W-why don't you a-ask him if he wants to ma-marry me or n--'

Liam, her dad zipped her mouth while giving her weak glare.

"Violet! Mr. William already--"

" I'm ready. I have no problem with this marriage."

Ethan eased the tense atmosphere, and his father and aunt sighed in relief after hearing his answer. His father smiled proudly and patted his back. Everyone picked up their glasses except Violet and cheered for this new relationship.

Violet heart dropped into her stomach, and she felt so helpless. She looked at him with teary eyes and a confused expression, wondering why he agreed to this marriage. He kept staring at her, and when he noticed her looking at him, he winked and smiled sweetly..

To be continued...

"This is our house. You two will stay here until you complete your graduation. After that, you can choose to move out and live separately.”

I nodded with a faint smile toward Mr. William. He was kind and respectful—never once raising his voice or showing me any disregard. His warmth made me wonder how Ethan could possibly be his son. They seemed like opposites in every sense. Ethan stood beside me, silent and cold, like a statue carved in resentment.

“Go show her your room. You’ll be sharing it.”

“What?!!! I-I mean... w-why? Isn’t that too... early, uncle?”

Mr. William chuckled softly and reached out to ruffle my hair with fatherly affection.

“You’re married now. It’s not appropriate for husband and wife to live separately. And stop calling me ‘uncle’. You’re part of the family now. Call me Dad.”

I swallowed my protest and nodded hesitantly, then glanced at Ethan, hoping—pleading—for him to say something. But he didn’t. Not a word. My heart raced with unease. He was intimidating enough when we weren’t alone. Now the idea of sharing a room with him was terrifying.

He finally jerked his head toward the hallway, a silent command for me to follow. I gripped the handle of my heavy suitcase and trailed behind him.

The room was stunning. Spacious, elegant, beautifully decorated, any girl would’ve fallen in love with it instantly. But I couldn’t even enjoy its beauty. Because it wasn’t mine. It was his.

“My cupboard doesn’t have enough space. You can’t use it,” Ethan said coolly. “I don’t like sharing a bed, so sleep on the floor, or the couch, whatever works. Also, I hate noise. Especially your voice. So don’t speak unless necessary.”

I nodded quickly, afraid to show any emotion. He stared at me a moment longer, like he wanted to say more, then turned away and took out his clothes before walking into the bathroom.

As soon as the door shut, I exhaled in relief and slumped against the wall. These wedding clothes were beautiful but suffocating. I opened my suitcase and found a set of comfortable new clothes. Nothing fancy, just something I could breathe in.

I glanced at the bathroom. The sound of the shower masked everything. Do it fast, I told myself.

I unzipped my dress and began to peel it off, managing most of it with a small victory sigh. Just as I reached for the fresh clothes—

The bathroom door flew open.

“AHHHHHH!!!”

I dropped like a stone, squatting behind the bed to cover myself.

“What are you doing?” he asked casually, towel slung low on his hips, no concern in his tone.

“P-please! Can you go back inside? I—I’m changing…”

“This is my room. Why would I leave? If you’re uncomfortable, you leave.”

Tears prickled at my eyes. My fingers trembled against the floor.

“Please... I just need two minutes. I-I’ll do anything, just... please.”

There was a pause. Then his voice, colder than before.

“Fine. One minute.”

He shut the door again.

“Fifty-six seconds,” he called out like a timer.

I jumped up and yanked my shirt over my head, still tangled in the dress. I struggled to free myself while pulling on my shorts.

“Ten seconds.”

Panicked, I half-wriggled out of the dress, trying not to rip it, just as he reopened the door.

There I stood, tangled in fabric, my body twisted and awkward, my cheeks flushed with shame.

He laughed, actually laughed, as if it was a joke to him.

“How did they even get you into this thing in the first place?”

His eyes gleamed with mockery as he tilted his head toward me. “Need help?”

I blinked in confusion. “W-will you?”

He smirked, walked to the nightstand, and retrieved scissors.

My breath caught.

“No... wait... please don’t—”

He ignored me and began cutting the delicate fabric of my wedding dress.

I watched in horror, tears brimming as the fabric fell in pieces around me. The very dress that symbolized a turning point in my life was now being shredded without a second thought.

“Stop pretending,” he said harshly, eyes narrowing. “I know exactly what this is. You purposely changed while I was in the shower. Then you acted like the dress got stuck so I’d have to help you take it off.”

“What? No! I didn’t—”

“Oh please, don't give your old bullshit "I wasn't intending to do that". At least, give me something that can be believable"

I stood there in disbelief, silent tears were hanging on my eyelids. I gathered what was left of my dress and packed it quietly into my suitcase. My chest ached from the weight of humiliation.

“Turn off the lights before you sleep.”

His voice rang again, cold and indifferent.

I got up, blinking away tears, trying to move quietly in the dark. But my toe slammed into the corner of the table. I stumbled and fell—straight onto his arm.

“I’m—I’m sorry... I didn’t—”

Before I could explain, he grabbed me and flipped me onto the bed, pinning my wrists above my head. My body froze.

“You really want me to fuck you, don’t you?” he growled. “Is that it? Crawling into my bed like this?”

My eyes widened. “No—!”

His face moved closer, breath warm and sharp against my lips

“Then maybe I’ll just give you what you’re begging for.”

To be continued