1 I ended up with the guy who ruthlessly bullied me in high school. When the morning light spilled into the room, I barely moved my arm. Instantly, the arm clamped around my waist pulled me tighter. Roman Vance buried his face in my neck, kissing my skin. His voice was thick and raspy with sleep. "Did you sleep well last night?" I stiffened for a second, then obediently nodded. If this were the past, I might have put up a slight struggle. But he had spent the last three weeks teaching me a very clear lesson. Obedience was the only way. He reached for my hand resting by my side, intertwining his fingers with mine. He let out a low, amused chuckle against my hair. "You didn't throw the ring away this time?" ... He was talking about the diamond ring resting on my ring finger. There had been two others before this. One I hid in the back of the freezer. The other I tossed into the decorative fountain down in the courtyard. I didn't want to recall the consequences of losing those first two rings. But the consequence of keeping the third one was clear: I was going to marry him. The man I feared more than anyone else in the world. 2 I loved my time in the shower. Because I didn't have to face him, and I wouldn't trigger any terrifying memories. But as I stared blankly into the fogged-up vanity mirror, the steam couldn't hide the glaring, harsh marks scattered across my skin. My eyes were bloodshot. I just stood there, staring at my reflection. Until Roman's slow, methodical knocking echoed from the bathroom door. "Taking a long time in there." "If you don't come out, I'm coming in." "..." It wasn't like he hadn't barged in unannounced before. I immediately turned off the water and wrapped myself in a towel. ... Breakfast was arranged perfectly on the dining table, though Roman probably didn't have time to eat. The morning news played in the background. With his long, elegant fingers, he cleanly and sharply tied his necktie. Noticing my eyes fixed on him, he leaned over and tapped my nose. "Like what you see? Want to tie it for me next time?" I turned my face away. He just let out a careless, low laugh. Deliberately, he picked up the glass of milk I had been drinking from and took a sip, placing his lips exactly over my lipstick mark. ... "Be good. Wait for me to come home." "I'm taking you dress shopping tonight." 3 Roman left. I stared blankly at the TV for a long time. Then, I picked up the glass he had just drank from and hurled it violently at the screen. The TV only shuddered, but the heavy glass shattered into a hundred pieces across the hardwood floor. The loud crash made the housekeeper gasp in shock. But I just pulled my knees to my chest, curled up in my chair, and cried. ... Roman Vance was my walking nightmare. Back in high school, out of the entire clique that made my life hell, he was the cruelest. I remember him standing over me with that arrogant smirk, taking my backpack and dumping all my textbooks from the second-floor balcony. He orchestrated the entire class to isolate me. With his encouragement, a group of girls dragged me into the restroom and slapped me across the face. As long as he led the charge, no one dared to help me. Because Roman was the heir to a massive corporate empire. His dad's company had funded the entire new science wing of our school. He mocked me flawlessly, and back then, bullying me simply became the school trend. I heard that his handsome face was the subject of countless girls' fantasies. But to me, he was the demon that kept me awake night after night, shivering in terror. And yet, this same man... Seven years after graduation... Said he was going to marry me. 4 I could never shake the habit of trembling whenever I saw Roman. Even though we had been sharing a bed for three weeks. No one would help me. When my mom found out a man of Roman’s status wanted to marry me, she acted like she had won the lottery. Roman seemed to have switched cars again today. The backseat of this one was incredibly spacious. I hated cars with spacious backseats. The privacy partition was rolled up. No one in the front could see what he was doing to me in the back. But Roman was quieter than usual today. Probably because I wouldn't stop shaking. He had turned the heat up in the car, but the tremors wouldn't stop. Ignoring my resistance, he pulled me flush against his chest. "Hazel, are you really that terrified?" The man's low whisper brushed against my ear. He knew exactly who caused me to be like this. "I'm taking you to pick out a wedding dress. Doesn't that sound nice?" I tried with everything I had to suppress my trembling, but a sarcastic, broken laugh escaped my lips anyway. Who would have ever thought? The very man who pushed me into the abyss... Was now gently whispering about wedding dresses. 5 The boutique Roman brought me to was located inside a private, gated mansion. Crystal chandeliers cast a brilliant, blinding light over the stunning gowns displayed on mannequins. I wasn't in the mood to look, let alone choose. I just let Roman and the designer discuss custom styles for me. I let the assistants wrap measuring tapes around my body like I was a doll. The boutique had a small courtyard garden in the back. That interested me more. So, while they talked, I lifted the hem of my skirt and walked out to the small koi pond. There was a wrought-iron gate at the back of the garden. It looked like if I could just pass through it, it would lead to infinite freedom. In truth, I had thought about running away a million times. But every time I mustered the courage, a crushing realization hit me: I had nowhere to run. My mom desperately wanted this marriage. She had grabbed my hands and begged me to stop causing trouble. I sat by the edge of the pond until Roman finished his meeting and came to find me. "What are you thinking about?" He always did this. Looking down at me from high above. So, I rolled up my sleeve and held my arm out to him. On my wrist was a small, circular red scar, bordered by thick, raised tissue. "Look. The cigarette burn you gave me." I was referring to a day in high school. He was in a bad mood, dragged me into a corner, and pressed a lit cigarette directly into my skin. It hurt so much. It hurt so badly that I forgot what else he did to me that day. The man looking down at me froze. For a long moment, he just stared. Then, he crouched down in front of me. Even though I hated to admit it, Roman’s face was flawless. Perfect. Like a masterpiece sculpted by the greatest artist of ancient Greece. If he looked at anyone with a tender expression, they would drown in his eyes. I guess that's why they say the devil always wears the most intoxicating face. The flame of his lighter flickered. Right in front of me, he lit a cigarette. I flinched automatically, terrified the burning ash would fall onto my arm again. But the next second, without batting an eye, he pressed the glowing, burning tip of the cigarette directly into his own wrist. In the exact same spot as my scar. He looked at me quietly. "Does that make you feel a little better, Hazel?" "..." I looked down. The ashes crumbled, and the raw, fresh burn was glaring to look at. Suddenly, he reached out and pulled me into his arms. "Hazel. If only you could give a fraction of your pain to me." Summer fireflies drifted upward over the pond. I stared blankly at the rippling moonlight. "Roman, you know full well that you're the one who caused all that pain." His body went entirely rigid. Then, slowly, he began stroking my hair. "Then let me atone for it. Please?" "..."
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