Chapter 3 The Wedding Night

It struck ten in the evening as Nadine drove Carsten off to the shopping mall to get some clothes and essentials.

Carsten carried an air of nobility about him. Nadine initially planned to buy him designer threads, but the closed boutiques thwarted Nadine's plan.

She had no choice but to take Carsten to the bustling night market, the last place that was still open.

At the night market, a myriad of peddlers and vendors hawked their wares, from sizzling noodles to succulent fruits, each vendor loudly extolling their merchandise.

This was undoubtedly an unfamiliar atmosphere for Carsten, whose routine dictated a return to his villa at this hour.

His usual regimen included a refreshing shower, a sip of red wine, a delve into the intricacies of finance books, and a final glass of warm milk before bedtime.

Amidst the clamor of the night market, he felt conspicuously out of place, making him rue the agreement to marry Nadine, whose lifestyle contrasted starkly with his own.

But Carsten resolved to endure this unfamiliar terrain as he contemplated his father's promise of marriage freedom after a year.

Nadine bought him living essentials and chose two sets of sportswear at a mere cost of $160.

That was a good bargain by any measure.

After learning the price, Nadine asked, "This stall is the last refuge for clothing at this hour. How do you like these?"

Carsten, casting a disdainful look, asked, "You expect me to wear these?"

Sensing his disdain, Nadine refrained from admonishing his pickiness given his bankruptcy.

She didn't want to make a fool of him in public.

Men were, after all, deeply invested in dignity.

So, she put it simply. "Transitioning from opulence to economy is challenging, but given your current financial straits, necessity dictates. I believe they'll suit you."

Carsten realized that he was indeed picky, and acknowledging her gesture, Carsten chose not to protest further.

Nadine, seizing the opportunity, swiftly settled the bill, telling the vendor, "Madam, the largest size, please. He's a bit broader."

The haggard stall owner, in her forties, gazed intently at Carsten as she packed the clothes for them.

"Is this handsome man your husband? He's a sight to behold."

Her eyes, weathered by over a decade of night market peddling, had never beheld such an impeccably handsome man.

He surpassed even the actors adorned in makeup on television.

The guy standing in front of her looked flawless.

Although Carsten was aware that many women enjoyed looking at him, he felt uneasy when this middle-aged lady stared at him that way.

He swiftly took the bag of clothes and seized Nadine's hand. "Let's head home."

Sensitive to his aversion to prying eyes, Nadine did not resist.

Only after they had walked away did she pull her hand.

The last time she felt a man's touch was seven years ago.

She didn't like this feeling, and the intrusion into her personal space left her perturbed.

A slight furrow creased her brow as she withdrew her hand, conveying a hint of anger. "I don't appreciate casual hand-holding. Ask me for permission next time."

Carsten, grappling with a sense of rejection, questioned himself silently. Did she find him repulsive?

Wasn't she supposed to welcome his closeness like other women?

In a conciliatory tone, he said, "My apologies."

"Let's hurry. I have work tomorrow," Nadine urged.

She guided him through several alleys to a modest seven-story building.

Looking at the shabby building and then at her, Carsten couldn't hide his disgust. "This is where you live?"

His tone dripped with disdain, like his earlier aversion to the affordable clothes.

While his current suit radiated refinement, the reality of his financial downturn should have tempered his expectations.

Didn't he go bankrupt? The bank had seized both his vehicle and home. He had no money at all.

In that case, he had no right to despise this.

Suppressing any inclination to reproach him, Nadine maintained a veneer of politeness.

"Mr. Fletcher, were the two apartments you once owned endowed with lush surroundings, vigilant security, and on-call property management services?"

There were more than that.

Carsten's previous abode boasted an entourage of servants, from drivers, private nutritionists, cleaners, gardeners, and bodyguards.

However, faced with his ostensible bankruptcy, he opted for stoic acceptance.

"Mr. Fletcher, circumstances dictate that one can't afford to be overly picky. While the living conditions may not be optimal, at least you have shelter. I doubt you'd choose this if alternatives were available. But you need to embrace the situation. Let's go home and rest, and you can contemplate your next move."

"Thank you for extending your hospitality," Carsten said, compelled to face the reality.

He sealed a pact with his father and committed to a year-long agreement.

For his freedom, he had to endure it.

Nadine's apartment was too shabby for him.

Though it boasted a kitchen, a bathroom, a bedroom, and a living room, the entire space was dwarfed by a mere fraction of his villa's lavish bathroom.

Despite his aversion, he masked his displeasure this time.

With just one bedroom, he gallantly offered to take the sofa.

Nadine slept in the bedroom, and Carsten endured the night on the narrow sofa.

At the crack of dawn, Nadine stirred, her thoughts grappling with a dilemma.

Should she extend the one hundred thousand loan to Carsten?

Her recent home purchase had still left her with a deposit, but lending it all meant depleting her resources entirely.

She wouldn't have any money to decorate her newly-bought apartment.

She had a difficult time saving enough cash for a home. She'd always hoped to provide herself with a nice apartment. After the decorating, she intended to move in.

She did not want to give him the money intended for the decor.

Moreover, she didn't really know Carsten. Was he even trustworthy?

The internal struggle made her wake up at five.

By seven a.m., she was already up, preparing a simple breakfast of noodles.

Carsten, disturbed by the commotion, joined her at the table after washing up.

Two bowls of noodles awaited them, one with a small amount of vegetables and the other with a fried egg, the last one in the fridge.

Acknowledging the difference in their physical exertion, Nadine gave Carsten the one with the egg.

Unfazed, Carsten, having never had such a simple breakfast but adhering to yesterday's conversation, refrained from any objections and merely inquired, "Don't you want to eat eggs?"

"I don't like eggs," Nadine retorted, savoring her noodles with unabashed gusto.

Carsten observed her.

She made sounds while eating her noodles.

Simply put, she had some less-than-elegant dining habits.

She treated her appearance in front of him with such disregard.

At least she didn't have to make a chomping noise.

He was used to women presenting themselves to him exquisitely and respectfully.

He was unaccustomed to Nadine's different demeanor.

Attempting to maintain his composure, Carsten elegantly twirled his fork, lifting noodles and ignoring the less-than-melodious sounds emanating from Nadine's side of the table.

Seizing a pause in her noodle indulgence, Nadine posed a direct question. "Mr. Fletcher, I have something to ask you."

"Go ahead." Carsten was ever polite.

"Why do you need the one hundred thousand?" she inquired.

After a moment's contemplation, Carsten conjured a lie. "My company faced closure, and I must settle the wages of the dismissed employees."

Without hesitation, Nadine replied, "Provide your account details. I'll transfer the money to you."

"Are you sure?" Surprised by her unwavering resolve, Carsten put down his fork and looked at her. "Financially, I am destitute. Prompt repayment might prove elusive."

Nadine, having deliberated throughout the night, had come to the decision.

She sought to rid herself of Denis, but her decision to marry Carsten stemmed not solely from that desire.

Seven years of being single had left her yearning for companionship, a shared journey through life's highs and lows.

She was human, after all.

Carsten didn't have to love her for her to support and go with him through good times and bad times.

Her parents separated when she was a little child. They saw her as a burden and didn't want her, leaving her behind.

Her ex-boyfriend also left her when she was twenty-one years old.

She saw the worst aspects of people and endured the cruelest abandonments imaginable, yet she never gave up on love.

She wondered if Carsten could be different.

Firmly, she told him, "Pay your employees before their dismissal. Find a new job, and start afresh. With diligence, everything will fall into place."

Carsten, taken aback, voiced his concern, "Aren't you afraid that..."

"Afraid of what?" She cut him off.

"I might run away with the money."

"You've already married me. Where else could you possibly go?" she retorted with confidence.