Chapter 3: Roommates and Secrets

Grandma Carol kept her word. She made sure I had a dowry fit for the Mason name—boxes of linens, heirloom silver, even a patch of land upstate.

Ms. Rachel timed everything so Mr. Carter was away on a work trip when she sent me off. Before I left, she pressed my guardianship papers into my hands, her voice wavering: “Alex may not be able to give you children, but you won’t have to suffer through labor pains either.”

She tried to make me smile, adding, “Men like that sometimes have other ways of showing… well, talent.”

The truth was, I’d never thought about any of that. It felt like I was just moving from one house to another.

A white stretch limo rolled up to the curb, the wedding planner—tall and brisk in a blue blazer—ushering me into the Mason home. The air inside smelled of fresh roses and lemon polish.

Captain Mason was too weak to stand, so at the ceremony, I stood in front of the glass case, staring at the row of medals—my heart thumping harder for every one. I whispered a thank you, hoping he’d hear it, wherever he was in his head.

That night, while other brides waited on their beds, I crept into the master suite. The master suite smelled faintly of aftershave and lemon polish. Someone had left a folded American flag on the dresser, tucked beside a photo of Alex in uniform. Alex was already there, half-lying on the bed in his suit, tie loosened, staring at the ceiling.

“Captain,” I whispered, not wanting to jolt him.

He turned his head. His face was beautiful in that tragic way, pale and hollowed out from pain.

“I never meant to marry anyone,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “If you’re okay with it, let’s just be roommates.” He gestured at the sofa. “Just for tonight, to keep my mom happy. Tomorrow you can move to the guest room.”

“Alright.” I folded my hands in my lap, unsure if I should feel relieved or disappointed.

He planned it all, practical and cold. Not at all what I’d imagined.

When I’d left my old house, the housekeeper had pulled me aside, voice low and conspiratorial: “You know, married couples can still, you know, have fun together—even if it’s not the traditional way. Just… be careful, you can’t get pregnant, but you might want to try something. Here, this might help.”

She slipped me a thin booklet, the kind you’d find on the back shelf at Walgreens. I peeked inside, my face going beet red.

“Are you hot?” Alex’s eyes were sharp, almost amused.

Flustered, I stammered, “M-must be the dress. It’s a bit warm.”

He nodded. “Go ahead, shower and get some rest. I’ll sleep now.”

He pulled the quilt over his shoulders, and within minutes his breath turned soft and steady—already asleep.

I drifted to the vanity, slipping off my tiara and jewelry, piece by piece. Under the harsh light, I peeled away the gown until only a slip was left. In the full-length mirror, I barely recognized myself—a figure with curves I’d spent years hiding, lips too red, arms too pale, eyes glistening with worry.

Ms. Rachel always said women like me were too tempting, insisted I keep everything hidden. But here, in this strange, grand room, I didn’t know how to be small.

I turned and slipped into the bathroom, closing the sliding door behind me. But I wasn’t alone.

A pair of dark, hungry eyes met mine—Alex, face flushed, chest heaving, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

I snatched my robe from the floor, wrapping it tight. “C-Captain, weren’t you sleeping?”

He didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was deeper than before, thick with restraint: “I can sleep later.”

My skin prickled, torn between shame and a weird, dangerous thrill. Was he looking at me like I was a stranger? Or something else entirely?

He got up, his frame casting a shadow over me. The memories of that booklet flashed through my mind, making my face hot and my breath catch.

But then, without a word, Alex turned and walked out into the hallway.

I stood there, dazed, listening as his footsteps faded down the hall. A second later, the pipes rattled as the shower turned on. The awkward tension hung in the air like static.

A cool summer breeze swept in through the window, snapping me out of my trance.

He was gone—already a silhouette disappearing down the hall.

I wondered:

When he looked at me just now, was he shocked? Or… scared?

Maybe my chest was too much, too overwhelming. Maybe he really didn’t like it. I decided that tomorrow, I’d bind my chest tighter than ever.

Sometime in the night, Alex slipped back in, his hair still damp, smelling faintly of mint and hotel shampoo.

So, he’d been taking a cold shower.