My Wedding, His Breakdown

I dated my younger brother’s best friend, Dylan Lane, for three years.

More than once, he told me how much he loathed arranged marriages and how he hated being chained by family interests.

However, one night, after another bout of indulgence, he wrapped his arms around me and begged me sweetly to design a wedding ring for his fiancée—someone he had never even met.

The smile froze on my face, yet he just said indifferently, “Aren’t people like us all destined to marry for our families' benefit?”

Seeing the blood drain from my face, he even chuckled. “Vee, don’t you tell me you're still as naïve as a 20-year-old girl, thinking I would ever marry you? At most, we're just… pillow friends."

Later, I agreed to the marriage my family had arranged for me.

Dylan showed up on my wedding day, disheveled and red-eyed. He fell to his knees and begged me not to leave.

I stood beside my new husband, hand in hand, and smiled faintly as I chuckled. “Didn’t you say people like us were born for arranged marriages? I’m simply doing what you always wanted me to do. Shouldn’t you be happy?”

Dylan pulled me into bed, his desires insatiable. His kisses trailed down to my collarbone, leaving a trail of hickeys.

“You smell so good tonight, Vee,” he murmured in a low, husky voice beside my ear, his warm breath brushing against my neck.

I gently pushed against his chest. “What’s gotten into you today?”

He didn’t answer. His hand slipped inside my blouse, skillfully unfastening my bra. Soon, I lost all sense of reason, sinking with him into a haze of passion. I told myself he was just a man. Boys would be boys, after all.

After everything, he leaned lazily against the headboard and lit a cigarette.

Lying in the swirl of smoke, he suddenly said, “Vee, design a wedding ring for me, will you?”

My heart skipped a beat. I fought to suppress the joy that almost burst from my chest. I thought he was finally going to propose. We had been dating for three years, but he had never given me any formal promise.

“What made you change your mind all of a sudden?” I asked, trying to sound calm, though excitement crept into my voice.

Dylan gave a soft chuckle, exhaling a ring of smoke. His tone was casual, even indifferent. “It’s an arranged marriage. I can’t let it look too bad.”

The smile on my face froze.

“Who is the ring for?” I heard my voice, dry and brittle.

He kissed the corner of my lips. “Obviously, for the woman my family picked for me. Who else?”

My blood turned to ice.

“Didn’t you say you hated arranged marriages?” I forced the words out. “At Mason’s birthday party, you said—”

“That was just nonsense that I said when I was young,” he interrupted impatiently.

“In families like mine, arranged marriages are the norm. Haven’t we always had an unspoken understanding,