The black car disappeared down the street, leaving the compound unusually quiet. For a moment, Laura simply stood there with her bag in her hand.

This was it.

There was no going back to the small room she had left behind. No returning to the village to face Margaret. No Frank waiting for her to surrender. She had chosen this: a marriage to a stranger.

Fred pushed open the front door. “Are you coming?”

She glanced at him. “Do you always talk to your wife like she's a delivery package?”

His eyebrow lifted. “You're already complaining?”

“I haven't even entered the house yet.”

“Then we're off to a good start.”

Laura rolled her eyes and followed him inside.

The house was even more impressive from the inside. The polished floor reflected the lights above. Expensive furniture filled the spacious living room, while huge windows overlooked a carefully maintained garden.

She stopped walking.

Fred turned around. “What?”

“This place…”

“What about it?”

“Nothing.”

“You were about to say something.”

She looked around again. “I just wasn't expecting this.”

Fred shrugged. “It's a house.”

She stared at him. “Of course you'd say that.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

He continued walking. “Your room is upstairs.”

Laura followed him, still looking around. Everything felt unfamiliar, too clean, too quiet, too expensive. It reminded her that she had stepped into a world completely different from the one she knew.

Fred opened a bedroom door. “This is yours.”

She entered slowly, her eyes widening. The room was beautiful. A large bed stood in the center, and there was a wardrobe bigger than the one she had shared with Evelyn, a private bathroom, a dressing table, and a balcony overlooking the garden.

She placed her small bag on the bed. “This is too much.”

“It's a bedroom.”

“I know what it is.”

“Then what's the problem?”

She turned toward him. “I'm just saying I don't need all this.”

Fred leaned against the doorframe. “You have it.”

“That doesn't mean I need it.”

Something about her answer caught his attention. “You really don't care about this stuff, do you?” he asked.

She frowned. “Care about what?”

“Money.”

A short laugh escaped her. “If I cared about your money, I wouldn't have asked you not to control my life.”

Fred studied her. She wasn't pretending; he could tell. “Fair enough.”

He turned to leave.

“Wait.”

He stopped. “What?”

“Where's your room?”

“Across the hall.”

Laura looked toward the opposite door. “So we're sleeping separately?”

“Yes.”

Relief immediately crossed her face, and Fred noticed. “Don't look so happy.”

She tried to hide her smile. “I'm just relieved.”

“Why?”

“Because I married a stranger today.”

He looked at her. “And?”

“And I'm not ready to wake up beside a stranger tomorrow morning.”

For a second, Fred's expression softened. Then he nodded. “Fair.”

He started walking away again.

“Fred.”

He turned back. “Hmm?”

She hesitated. “Thank you.”

His face became unreadable. “For what?”

“For keeping your promise.”

“I said I wouldn't control you.”

“You also said nobody would interfere with my life.”

“I meant it.”

Laura nodded. “Good.”

Fred walked away, and the door clicked shut. Silence returned.

She sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at the ring on her finger. A strange feeling settled in her chest. She was married. Not engaged. Not planning to marry. Married. And the man whose name was now attached to hers was sleeping just across the hallway.

The following morning, the rich aroma of breakfast filled the house.

Laura walked downstairs and found Fred sitting at the dining table with his laptop open. He barely looked up.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning,” she replied, taking a seat opposite him.

A housekeeper placed a generous breakfast spread on the table. Laura stared at the food. “You eat this much in the morning?”

Fred looked at his plate. “Is there a problem?”

“No.”

“Then eat.”

She picked up her spoon. After a few seconds, she noticed him watching her. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You're staring.”

“I was wondering something.”

“What?”

“Do you always talk this much?”

Laura dropped her spoon. “Excuse me?”

Fred's mouth twitched. “Forget it.”

“You're actually making jokes now?”

“I wasn't joking.”

She stared at him, then realized he was actively trying not to smile. “You're smiling.”

“No.”

“You are.”

“I'm not.”

She laughed, and Fred quickly diverted his gaze back to his laptop screen. For the first time since they had met, breakfast didn't feel completely uncomfortable. It almost felt normal.

Almost.

Then his phone rang. He answered. “Yes?”

His expression instantly changed. The faint warmth disappeared entirely. “Who told you?”

He listened for a beat. “No. I don't care what she thinks.”

Another tense pause. “I said I'll handle it.”

He ended the call abruptly.

Laura watched him carefully. “Everything okay?”

“Yes.”

“You don't look okay.”

Fred snapped his laptop closed. “It's nothing you need to worry about.”

She nodded, but the sharp edge in his voice told her otherwise.

Before she could press further, the front door opened. A courier entered carrying several garment bags. “Sir, these are for Mrs. Smith.”

Laura nearly choked on her water. “Mrs. who?”

The man smiled politely. “Mrs. Smith.”

She whipped her head toward Fred, who remained completely unbothered. “What is that?”

“Clothes.”

“I can see that.”

“You'll need something appropriate for tonight.”

“Tonight?”

Fred stood up from the table. “My family wants to meet you.”

Her smile vanished. “Your family?”

“Yes.”

“You didn't tell me.”

“I just did.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “Fred!”

He began walking toward the stairs. “Be ready by seven.”

“Wait!”

He paused on the steps. “What?”

“You're really leaving me alone to deal with your family?”

He looked back down at her. “You won't be alone.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Will you be there?”

“Yes.”

“Then maybe I can survive.”

Fred gave a small nod. “That's the spirit.”

He disappeared upstairs.

Laura looked at the elegant garment bags, then up toward the empty staircase, and back down at the clothes. Living in a stranger's house was one thing, but facing the Smith family was another entirely. And somehow, she suspected the hardest part of becoming Mrs. Smith had only just begun.

Morning sunlight slipped through the curtains, spreading across the unfamiliar bedroom.

For several seconds, everything felt peaceful.

Then reality returned.

She was married.

Not engaged.

Not preparing for a wedding.

Married.

She sat up slowly and looked at the ring on her finger.

Yesterday, she had been desperate to escape one marriage.

Now she was legally married to another man.

A stranger.

She let out a quiet breath.

“What have I done?”

A knock came at the door.

“Come in.”

The door opened slightly.

Fred stood outside.

“Are you awake?”

She stared at him.

“Obviously.”

He glanced at the clock.

“You'll be late.”

“Late for what?”

“Work.”

She blinked.

“You remembered?”

“You said you were keeping your job.”

“I am.”

“Then you should get ready.”

He turned to leave.

“Fred.”

He stopped.

“Hmm?”

“Do you always wake people up like a security guard?”

His lips twitched.

“No.”

“Then why me?”

“Because you're my wife.”

She stared at him.

“I'm still getting used to hearing that.”

“So am I.”

For some reason, his answer made her smile.

Fred noticed.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You're smiling.”

“You smiled first.”

“I didn't.”

“You did.”

He shook his head.

“Get ready.”

The door closed.

She sat there for another moment.

Fred was strange.

Cold one minute.

Almost playful the next.

She couldn't understand him.

And she wasn't sure she wanted to.

By the time she reached the dining room, breakfast was already waiting.

Fred sat at the table with his laptop.

She pulled out a chair.

“Good morning.”

“Morning.”

She looked at the food.

“You eat breakfast this early?”

“I have meetings.”

“You always have meetings?”

“Yes.”

“Then when do you actually relax?”

“I don't.”

She stared at him.

“That sounds miserable.”

Fred looked up.

“You think so?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe.”

She didn't expect the answer.

“You don't enjoy your life?”

“I didn't say that.”

“You didn't exactly sound happy.”

Fred closed the laptop.

“You ask too many questions.”

“Maybe you give too few answers.”

For a moment, they stared at each other.

Then Fred picked up his coffee.

“Eat.”

She smiled.

“Bossy.”

“You knew that before you married me.”

“I didn't know you.”

“Exactly.”

That answer silenced her.

They had both entered the marriage without really knowing one another.

She wondered whether that was dangerous.

Or perhaps it was the reason it worked.

Neither had expectations.

Neither had a history together.

Neither was in love.

At least, that was what she told herself.

After breakfast, the driver took her to work.

Before she left, Fred walked her to the door.

“You'll be back by six?”

She looked at him.

“Why?”

“My family dinner is tonight.”

“Oh.”

“You forgot?”

“I didn't forget. I was hoping it was a joke.”

“It wasn't.”

She sighed.

“Do I really have to go?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you're my wife.”

She folded her arms.

“You really like saying that.”

Fred looked amused.

“You're the one who keeps forgetting.”

She shook her head.

“Fine. I'll be back.”

“Good.”

She took a few steps before turning around.

“Fred?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me continue working.”

He looked surprised.

“Why wouldn't I?”

“Some men don't like their wives working.”

“I married you. I didn't buy you.”

Her expression softened.

“That may be the nicest thing you've said.”

“Don't get used to it.”

She laughed and walked away.

Fred watched her until the car disappeared.

Something about the woman he had married was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.

She wasn't impressed by his house.

She wasn't desperate for his money.

She didn't flatter him.

She challenged him.

And strangely, he liked it.

At work, her mind kept returning to the morning.

She couldn't understand why Fred's words affected her.

I married you. I didn't buy you.

It was such a simple statement.

But it meant more than he probably realized.

During lunch, Evelyn called.

“So?”

She smiled.

“So what?”

“You spent your first night married to a stranger. I need details.”

“There are no details.”

“Nothing happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Did he try anything?”

“No.”

“Did you try anything?”

She nearly dropped her phone.

“Evelyn!”

Her friend burst out laughing.

“I'm only asking.”

“Nothing happened.”

“Okay. Tell me what he's like.”

She paused.

“Cold.”

“Rich?”

“Yes.”

“Handsome?”

She hesitated.

“Evelyn.”

“That pause answered everything.”

“He's annoying.”

“Handsome and annoying?”

“Very.”

“Then you have a problem.”

“What problem?”

“You might actually like him.”

She laughed.

“Never.”

“That's what everyone says before they fall.”

“I am not falling.”

“Good. Then you're safe.”

She didn't answer.

Because deep down, she wasn't completely certain anymore.

That evening, she returned home earlier than usual.

Fred was already waiting.

He stood near the staircase in a dark suit.

She stopped.

“You're ready?”

“Yes.”

She looked at him.

“You look…”

“Different?”

She smiled.

“Very.”

Fred glanced at her dress.

“You look good.”

“Thank you.”

Silence settled between them.

Then he held out his hand.

She looked at it.

“What?”

“We should go.”

She placed her hand in his.

His fingers closed gently around hers.

Neither spoke.

But the simple touch felt strangely intimate.

As they walked toward the door, she realized something.

For the first time since their marriage began, she wasn't walking beside a complete stranger.

Not anymore.

She was beginning to recognize the man beside her.

And that frightened her.

Because recognizing him meant she could eventually begin to care.

And caring was never part of their agreement.