The wedding festivities finally came to an end, leaving a whirlwind of emotions in their wake.

The grand celebration of our union now behind us, Lucien and I, headed to his house—now our home.

Lucien's penthouse exudes opulence and modern sophistication, perched atop a skyscraper with breathtaking views of the city skyline.

The exterior is sleek and minimalist, with floor-to-ceiling windows that offer panoramic vistas and flood the interior with natural light.

The building itself is an architectural marvel, boasting a combination of glass and steel that gleams in the moonlight.

As we stepped through the threshold, an awkward silence descended upon us, thick and suffocating.

Inside, the penthouse is a sanctuary of luxury. 

The open-concept living space features high ceilings and expansive rooms, seamlessly blending contemporary design with classic elegance.

The floors are polished hardwood, and the walls are adorned with carefully curated art pieces.

The living room is a masterpiece of comfort and style, with plush sofas, a grand piano with a guitar resting near it, and a modern fireplace that adds a touch of warmth and coziness.

The kitchen is a chef's paradise, equipped with state-of-the-art appliances, a sleek marble island, and custom cabinetry. 

Adjacent to it is a formal dining area with a table that can host lavish dinner parties, surrounded by large windows, offering stunning night-time views of the city lights.

But all these lavish interiors fill my heart with melancholia.

This piano would never ever compose the notes of our love.

This guitar would never be played when we were silly, goffy, and happy in love.

This fireplace will never be lit with our burning passion, and this push sofa will never be our sanctuary when we are full of each other, content, satisfied, and in love.

This place will never be what I want it to be and it fucking hurts.

This place which was supposed to be be my home but with the current circumstances,  it's nowhere there.

The housekeepers had retreated to their quarters, leaving us completely alone for the first time since our vows. 

The weight of the situation pressed down on me.

This was not just a house anymore; it was my new home, my new reality.

As we walked through the elegantly decorated halls, the silence between us grew louder.

I cast a few glances at Lucien, but he remained impassive, his face a mask of unreadable emotions.

When we finally reached the bedroom, I couldn't help but gasp softly.

The room was beautifully decorated with rose petals scattered across the bed, candles casting a soft, romantic glow, and a bottle of champagne chilling in a silver bucket. 

It was a setting designed for intimacy, for newlywed passion.

But instead of excitement, I felt a knot of anxiety tightening in my stomach.

"I'll just... take a shower," he said abruptly, breaking the silence. Without waiting for a response, he disappeared into the bathroom, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I stood there for a moment, trying to steady my breathing. The reality of the situation was overwhelming. 

I began to undo my accessories, carefully placing each piece on the vanity. 

My fingers trembled as I removed my earrings, my necklace, and finally, my veil.

I ran a hand through my hair, letting it fall freely around my shoulders.

As I started to remove the pins and undo the intricate style, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

This entire process felt like taking my armor off after a battle.

But the thing is, now is when the real battle begins.

And yet, I've lost the battle even before it started.

Serafina Moretti never lost any battle, except for the one that mattered the most—the battle of love.

The woman staring back looked like a stranger—dressed in finery, but eyes full of uncertainty.

The sound of the bathroom door opening pulled me from my thoughts.

I turned to see Lucien emerging, steam billowing around him. 

He was dressed in nothing but a towel wrapped low around his hips, his chest still glistening with droplets of water.

I couldn't help but stare, mesmerized by the sight of him.

His presence filled the room, and for a moment, all my anxieties seemed to melt away. 

But then reality crashed back in. This was not a scene from a fairy tale.

Our marriage, our union, was born out of necessity, not love.

Also, I could never see what lies beneath that towel.

And that's when my brain did a trick and my clit did a flip.

A picture of completely naked Lucien was painted in mt vision.

Holly, merda di merda

"It's your turn," Lucien said, his voice low and even, snapping me back from my unholy thoughts.

He avoided my gaze as he moved to the bed, sitting on the edge and running a hand through his damp hair. 

I nodded, gathering my things and heading into the bathroom.

But then again, my brain got no chills.

What if he joins me here and helps me wash.

Shut up Horny Serafina!!

The hot water did little to soothe my nerves. I took my time, washing away the remnants of the day, trying to clear my mind.

When I finally stepped out, I saw the delicate lingerie my mother-in-law had chosen for me.

It was a beautiful, delicate lace that felt like a cage.

I slipped it on, feeling more exposed than ever.

Taking a deep breath, I left the bathroom and re-entered the bedroom. 

He was lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, lost in his own thoughts.

He looked up as I approached, his eyes scanning over me briefly before he looked away again.

Lucien turned to me, his expression softening as he took in the scene.

"Serafina," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "Tonight... I know this is all new, but I want to try."

He stepped closer, his hand brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.

His touch sent a shiver down my spine, and I felt my heart race. 

For a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of us, and I allowed myself to get lost in the warmth of his gaze.

He leaned in, his lips just a breath away from mine, and I could feel the tension crackling in the air.

I closed my eyes, letting the moment take over as his lips met mine in a tender, exploratory kiss. 

It was soft, hesitant, as if he was testing the waters, waiting for my response.

I kissed him back, allowing myself to enjoy the feel of his lips on mine, the way his hand gently cupped my face.

But then, reality intruded. 

He is doing this only beause its his duty, not because he wants.

The weight of our circumstances pressed in on me, and I knew I had to stop this before it went too far.

With a soft sigh, I gently pulled away, placing a hand on his chest to create some distance between us.

"Lucien," I whispered, my voice laced with regret, "this is wrong."

He looked at me, confusion and a hint of hurt flickering in his eyes.

"Serafina, we're married now. This is what's expected of us."

"I know," I replied, my hand still resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. "But let's not rush into consummating our marriage. I think we need time to... adjust to this new reality."

Lucien studied my face for a moment, his expression unreadable.

Then, with a slow nod, he said, "Okay. We'll take it slow. No pressure."

A small, relieved smile tugged at the corners of my lips. "Thank you."

We both sat on the edge of the bed, the silence between us now more companionable, though still tinged with the awkwardness of our new situation. 

I found myself stealing glances at him, feeling a pang of guilt that he had to endure this because of me.

Lucien seemed lost in thought, his gaze fixed on some distant point.

I could see the strain on his face, the weariness in his eyes, and it made my heart ache for him. 

This was not the life he had imagined, and I couldn't help but feel responsible for the burdens he now carried.

I thought about the weight of the ring on my finger, a symbol of the promises and sacrifices we had made. 

It felt like a heavy chain, not just binding us together, but also anchoring us to a future neither of us had chosen. 

It was a constant reminder of the life that was set out for us, the paths we had to walk, and the dreams we had to sacrifice.

I could almost see the ghosts of those lost dreams hovering behind his eyes.

I shifted slightly, trying to find the right words, but they seemed to escape me.

I wanted to tell him that I understood his struggles, that I knew this wasn't fair to him, but every time I opened my mouth, the words faltered.

The silence between us was a reminder of the chasm that lay between our hearts.

We were bound by duty by the expectations of our families, but there was a distance that no amount of ceremony or engagement could bridge. 

It was a gap filled with unspoken words and unmet needs, a void that we were both aware of but reluctant to confront.

Despite everything, there was a flicker of something in Lucien's eyes when he looked at me—perhaps it was acceptance, or maybe even a glimmer of hope. 

It was a small, fragile thing, but it was there, and I clung to it as if it were a lifeline.

Before I could say anything else, the doorbell rang, its chime echoing through the quiet penthouse.

"Who could that be?" he murmured, getting up.

"I'll come with you," I said, following him down the hallway.

We reached the door, and Lucien opened it to reveal the visitor.

It was Eleanor standing there, a small suitcase in her hand.

Her eyes lit up when she saw Lucien, and she stepped forward to hug him.

He stiffened in surprise, his confusion evident.

"Eleanor?" he said, pulling back slightly. "What are you doing here?"

I stepped forward, my heart pounding in my chest. "Your wedding gift," I said softly, trying to steady my voice. "I'm so glad for this marriage, Lucien. This is the least I could do for you."

Lucien's eyes darted between Eleanor and me, disbelief and shock written all over his face.

"Perle, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that tonight, Eleanor stays with you, and now onwards, she stays with us," I explained, turning to Eleanor. "Please, come in."

Eleanor hesitated, looking at Lucien for confirmation.

He nodded slowly, still processing the turn of events.

She stepped inside, and I turned to head back down the hallway.

"I'll take the guest room," I said over my shoulder. "You two... you should be together."

I walked away, my heart heavy but my resolve firm.

This was my wedding night, but I knew that forcing something that wasn't there would only cause more pain. 

In the guest room, I lay down on the unfamiliar bed, staring at the ceiling.

The room felt cold and distant, but it was my refuge for the night.

The house was quiet, the echoes of the earlier events still reverberating in my mind. 

I had just left Lucien and Eleanor in the master bedroom, knowing they needed this moment more than I did.

My heart was heavy, but I had to find some way to cope with the new reality I had created. 

Serafina Moretti never cried. But, Serafina Beauchene will.

As I lay down on the guest bed, I closed my eyes and whispered a silent prayer for the future.

No matter what lay ahead, I would face it with courage and a heart full of love. 

For Lucien, for myself, and for the life we had yet to build.

As I tried to find some semblance of peace, I heard muffled sounds from the master bedroom—Lucien and Eleanor's voices - soft and intimate.

The room that had been decorated for me and Lucien was now theirs.

It hurt, but it was a pain I had to endure for the sake of our complicated situation.

The traditions of our families demanded proof of union, but love couldn't be forced. 

It had to be nurtured, earned through shared experiences, and grown from a place of mutual respect and understanding.

This was the first step in navigating our new reality, and I could only hope that, in time, we would find a way to make it work.