The Wedding of stranger

The heavy doors of the cathedral opened with a low creak, releasing the scent of white lilies and cold marble. Cameras flashed. Strings of violins whispered through the air, playing a melody too beautiful for a ceremony that felt so hollow.

Han So-yeon stood at the entrance, her heart pounding beneath the lace of her ivory gown. The fabric hugged her softly, delicate yet suffocating. Her hands trembled as she held the bouquet — white roses, chosen by someone else. Everything about this day belonged to someone else.

At the far end of the aisle stood Leonard Moretti.

Immaculate in a black tailored suit, he looked like a sculpture carved from silence — tall, broad-shouldered, his expression unreadable. His gray eyes met hers briefly, but there was no warmth there. Only calculation.

So this is the man I’m marrying, So-yeon thought. The man who will be my husband before sunset.

She began to walk, each step echoing off the cathedral walls. Her aunt, Min-hee, smiled from the front pew, pride glittering in her eyes — pride that had nothing to do with love. Across the aisle, Giovanni Moretti, Leonard’s father, sat like a king, his presence commanding, his approval cold.

When So-yeon reached the altar, Leonard offered his hand. His touch was firm, businesslike — a handshake disguised as a gesture of romance.

“You’re late,” he murmured quietly, his Italian accent smooth but sharp.

“I didn’t want to come,” she whispered back, eyes lowering.

A faint smirk ghosted across his lips. “At least we’re honest.”

The priest began to speak, his voice solemn, reciting words that meant nothing to either of them. Leonard stood motionless, while So-yeon’s heart fluttered like a trapped bird.

When it came time for the vows, her lips trembled as she repeated the words in a language that wasn’t her own. “I take you, Leonard Moretti, to be my husband…”

Leonard’s voice followed, calm and unyielding. “I take you, Han So-yeon, to be my wife.”

A contract sealed with silence.

The ceremony ended, and applause filled the air. But So-yeon felt none of it. She looked at Leonard — at the stranger who was now her husband — and saw nothing of the fairy-tale she once imagined as a girl.

Later that evening

The grand Moretti mansion loomed against the Italian sunset — all glass, marble, and cold perfection. So-yeon’s heels clicked on the polished floor as she followed Leonard through endless hallways. Paintings of ancestors watched her like ghosts.

“You’ll stay in the east wing,” Leonard said curtly, opening a door to a large but distant room. “If you need anything, the staff will arrange it.”

Her hands gripped the strap of her small purse. “Thank you.”

He turned, eyes scanning her face. “This arrangement benefits us both. You understand that?”

She nodded slowly. “Yes. It’s for the company.”

“And for appearances,” he added. “My father values image.”

So-yeon hesitated before speaking again. “Do you… always talk about marriage like it’s a job interview?”

For a moment, something flickered behind his eyes — surprise, maybe. Then it was gone.

“Marriage is a contract, Mrs. Moretti. Nothing more.”

He walked away, his footsteps fading down the corridor, leaving her alone in the echoing silence.

So-yeon sat on the edge of the enormous bed, her fingers tracing the silk sheets. Outside, the moon rose over the vineyards, washing the estate in silver light. She thought of her parents — how they would’ve wanted her wedding to be filled with love and laughter, not business and emptiness.

Still, she smiled faintly, whispering to herself,

“I’ll make the best of it… even if he never loves me.”

Down the hall, Leonard paused by his study door. Through the quiet mansion, he could faintly hear her voice — soft, fragile, hopeful.

And for the first time in years, something inside him shifted.

Something he couldn’t name.

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