I Think Married the Wrong Man... Not Knowing He Owns Bangkok

Luna Harris went into the room and knew straight away that it was strange. It was the draft of air between the bricks. She had thought there would be noise like she remembered in her early years. She had thought there would be loud voices singing, bottles of champagne being opened, and somebody weeping with love. However, it was not like that. It was not irregular. Everybody was deeply careful in what they said. Her mind advised her that the room was similar to a city hall that people go to in order to arrange affairs. It was weirdly silent.

The chairs made a soft croak, similar to insects. Everybody went silent as Luna Harris entered. No one was laughing. Luna Harris discovered that the municipal hall was silent in the manner of persons who are avoiding voices being cried out of consideration for injured feelings. No one applauded. Everything was noiseless. This, of course, is odd. The noise is like the fog that forms in the evening. It is brisk. This guilt rendered her.

She squeezes Ethan's hand. It was good and warm and safe, and that was exactly the kind of feeling that was so easy to forget. That is also why she does not want to look at the people sitting there. She will see exactly what she expects to see, though a sense of pity will mingle with the preemptive disappointment that will finally occur when their curiosity overtakes her. Right now, she and Ethan should be joking about wedding plans and the impossibilities they both knew would be there.

He took a breath. He was the one who should have been holding the wedding. He sounded like he was reading from a piece of paper. The meaning of his words didn't mean anything to her. She was looking at the room. Noticing the little things about it that she wanted to notice. Her aunt was trying to smile. It was not working. One of her cousins was staring off into space at their phone that was lighting up their face a little blue. A few of her family members were leaning towards each other. The sounds were loud, but it was very silent and freezing. A little too freezing. How weddings should have been. The wedding was silent, and it was putting everything into place. It was wrong. The wedding was not supposed to happen this way.

She lifted her head just a little more. That was her choice. She chose that road. She chose him to be with. Ethan wore a charcoal suit, which was simple. It fit around his body just right. He didn't look like he was trying to be anything, a Christmas present or anything. His hair in its mess, his shoulders appeared relaxed. She thought to herself that this was how she wanted him to be. She seemed to feel at ease. Ethan had no imperfections if she was searching for any. They were deep set into his face and looking at her like he wanted her to talk to him. It felt like he was looking at a note that would be filed away in a drawer and reading it.

In that same moment, the person who was to do the ceremony asked Luna if she would marry Ethan Cole. She didn't wait. "I do," she said. It was strange how her voice sounded to her. It was loud and clear, not like her voice was her empty heart. Ethan Cole said I didn't make it. His voice didn't sound happy. Seek to impress. Before, it was like an inner secret only to the two of them, and it felt like it was only Luna and Ethan Cole.

Then Luna and the man exchanged rings. The delicate gold ring was placed onto her finger. At first, it was numb. Then there came warmth. Luna concluded that, gradually, Luna and the ring would become fused to her finger. It was shivering when Luna finally held his hand. The man observed Luna's hands shivering. The man consumed her shivers in silence. Then he tried to wrap Luna's fingers. It was a wrap, but it was fixed there. It was a wrap that said more than words could about Luna and the rings.

My nuptial commissioner was embalming. "Kiss the bride!"

The next thing I knew, it was really quiet. No applause. No cheers. Ethan slowly turned a full 360; it seemed like he was the last person on the planet. He took his hands and touched her face. His thumb found her cheek as he gently kissed her. No one else was there when he kissed her. Ethan was slow, careful, and shy; he was there with her, not just doing it to impress. My heart leapt into my mouth. When they pulled apart, their foreheads touched. Ethan's kiss told her everything was going to be okay. The way his lips kissed her made the staring and whispering irrelevant. She and she were still touching. It was uninhibited.

He uttered, "Thank you for selecting him," in a whisper so soft it was only audible to Luna.

A prickly feeling ran down her throat. She hung onto him desperately as if he were the only thing that could save her. She was so frightened that if she relaxed, then it would all go to pieces. He was stopping her from falling apart, hard and strong, his chin resting on the top of her head. A cough from the crowd made Luna look at her aunt, who was leaning forward and whispering loudly enough to be heard by the people around, who was saying, "Such a waste; you could have done better with someone." Luna was holding the other person, and her aunt was talking, thinking Luna could have picked someone.

The party was just like being in cold air. The tables were round, and the food came on plates, and the room was not very bright. The decorations were nice. They didn't make people happy. Luna sat next to Ethan. Their knees went under the tablecloth; it was happening, but it was like a lot because it was so silent. When someone laughed, it just sounded like they weren't laughing genuinely, just like a noise.

Her cousin Clara arrived ten minutes late, already dressed in a beautiful satin dress, wielding a complete lack of modesty with one hand on her hip. She had a brilliant, toothy smile on her face with diamonds shining around her lips as if to say, "Don't mess with me." Is this really it? Clara asked delicately, thinking of her smug smile, insinuating a 'close relationship' by what she called. That seemed more like a bad emotion that sat in the pit of your stomach. like she was intentionally trying to make me feel out of place. Even now.

Luna smiled. And she said, "We want something really simple."

Clara looked at Ethan. Don't look away. Said to him, "{...}. Who are you?"

He rang when he got up to introduce himself to her. He offered his hand to Ethan.

Clara merely touched the back of Ethan's hand briefly before pulling her hand away. She asked, 'What do you do, Ethan?' in a voice he could tell was trying to deliberately hurt.

And the table just stayed there. He said, "I am in the middle of some things every day," and he said it lying back, and he was really calm about it.

Clara let out a dry, very unhappy laugh. 'Naturally,' she said. Luna started feeling rather hot; her cheeks (in fact, her whole face) were flushing with color, more specifically, her neck. Luna held Ethan firmly against her underneath her clothes. His chin didn't move, nor did he seem in any way displeased; he was mildly unflappable and remained perfectly still; he didn't seem to mind.

As they departed, there were no farewells, no unkind words, and no wishes for good luck, only little smiles and smiles. When Luna finished putting on her coat, though quiet, her aunt said to her loud enough for the two of them: "Luna will regret it." Again, Ethan heard Luna's aunt saying it but didn't comment and remained silent. Out beyond the night air, Luna could smell tar mixed with tears of jasmine. There were so many sounds of this city, the rush of autos, the sparkle of neon signs. Luna let out a soft, trembling breath that she had not tried to mask. "I'm sorry," she started, the words rushing forth before she could shut them out. "I'm sorry it all had to end like this, with the city and everything."

Ethan looked very upset. "Why are you apologizing to me? You've been wrong."

(For them. For now.)

He took a couple of steps forward. Gently lifted her chin to force her to look into his eyes and said, "Today was truly great." Today I married the woman I love. The woman I love is the only thing that matters to me in the whole world. When I think of the woman I love, that is all I think of in the entire world.

The tears blurred her eyes. She held him closer still, her arms wrapped round him tighter than ever, knowing that he was hers might just be enough to make everything OK. They made their way home along a deserted street. It was a house, a little old, but it was home. When Ethan scooped her up and carried her in through the door, she couldn't help but let out a laugh. The first sound in a while that didn't come from her was heard as they crossed the threshold.

Cliffhanger: And then she was on the balcony, overlooking the city. It was as if she were staring at millions of stars dimly glittering. Ethan hurriedly threw his arms over her. She whisperingly said, "Everything's going to be alright." He concurred.

He didn't see the glow on his thigh; the phone was busy vibrating underneath his jacket, as though there was a bug caught in the material. She didn't realize that the name flashing across the screen was of someone who could change your life with a single word. The hum of another person's phone was the same as his was, and he held the entire power of the phone and the life he had there; little did he know the same was happening to his, just with buzzing.

Ethan's face stopped for a second when he recognized her look in the dim room. He pressed against her a little closer and kissed her temple. "Sleep well now," he said aloud. Ethan and Luna had a pressing day coming tomorrow, he reflected. He had a whole lot to do, and he wanted to make sure she got rest. "Tomorrow, you will be busy," he said again, softly.

Luna awoke to hear Bangkok outside the window. The whole world was awake. She didn't care about what was happening in her life. Ethan was still sleeping next to her, his arm over her waist. She rolled toward him, comforted by the warm silence of sleeping beside him. It was good to feel saved, even if it was just for this little blink of time. In her mind, what she had to do that day was still on her mind, but this little happy blink of time was making her morning alright. By the time breakfast was ready, things weren't looking good. Her mother was already sitting at the table, sipping her coffee. She looked terribly lonely. She had been so very patient, but she didn't want to see Luna's smile. Better to cry, no matter how sad it was. Luna's cousin, Clara, was standing by the door and watching Luna and Ethan. Her eyes flickered back and forth. Wanting to know everything yet making fun of everybody. She was not happy with what she saw.

Luna was about to mumble "morning" and cheer everybody up when she saw herself say it. It was so quiet you couldn't hear it. The room was heavy. Ethan said something Luna couldn't hear, and he extended his hand under the table, placing it on her legs. She smiled a little. Her heart pumped.

Her mother didn't even look at her. "So how does it feel to be married to him?" her mother snapped. She was trying to keep her tone calm, but it was clear she was mad at Luna. She looked ready to throw something at her. "Who is he?" she asked, never rolling her eyes. It was as if she were trying to hurt Luna. It was. She looked over at Ethan. His dark eyes looked happy and warm, but Luna was not sure what he was thinking. He squeezed her hand to hold her close and make her smile. "He is a very kind brother," she said. "He is a man." Her last sentence made her mom look angry. Nice is not enough, Luna. You could have picked a good man who wanted you dead, was successful, and was nice to everyone in the city. Not him. Clara was standing against a wall in the room, and her hands hurt so much because she was covered in gorgeous emerald and diamond jewelry. Moving back and forth, she said, "I don't understand it. She looked full of anger. He doesn't even work? How can you do this? Luna was mad and ashamed that she was feeling like that. It felt like she was going to vomit. She wanted to tell people that they should respect Ethan, but she was getting ready to doze off when she stopped. Ethan was watching her. He wasn't angry. Instead, he was watching her as if he worried she might fall over. "Would you like something to eat?" she asked. Ethan nodded again. "If you are eating, I will eat" sounds different, softer. Comfortable. Smiling to herself, she felt good. They had lunch. It was very warm and disturbing. Ethan's parents were sitting in chairs whispering in their mouths, and when Ethan was getting up to get a cup of coffee or a piece of bread, they stared at him. They saw everything he did, hoping to see any mistake in him.

Luna was over this. She opened her mouth. "He is more than you think," she yelled. She didn't want her tone to be loud, but she was sure she sounded angry. "Ethan is an individual, Ethan is kind, and Ethan is caring. And Ethan is mine."

Her mother was mad, and she pressed her lips into a straight line. Luna thought she was going to be sorry she said that. To the person who spoke to Luna. Ethan looked at the chin. She leaned toward the chin to make sure they could look in each other's eyes. "I am glad you are mine," she told him. Then she kissed his cheek. He was smiling to himself. "I am glad you are mine," he said and squeezed her hand tighter. She was warm and happy now because they were in the crowd. They were becoming part of the city now. To everyone, they were just like all the other couples. But whenever Luna looked at anyone and knew she loved them, whenever they touched her, it was a rope that made her feel safe and pulled her away from danger. Even if other people didn't follow their choice. When Luna was home, she knew that the air in the apartment was hard and heavy. Clara just appeared from nowhere, and now she was at her door and walking around without permission, and she was just not going away. "I was just seeing how you live," she said in a kind of voice that wasn't kind, and she was smiling a lot. Then she went straight past Luna to live in her apartment like she was the one who was supposed to live there. Luna didn't like that Clara did that. Instead, she looked like she was planning to do something bad. The people she loved. I wanted more from you. Maybe you will have a man standing next to you. Luna's hands were fists now. Then Ethan came forward. He was even taller and stronger than he was. It was so quiet to speak because he didn't even need to be loud to stop people from listening, but they listened when he spoke. Clara was not sure what she was thinking. "" You"-Ethan stopped. He put his hand on Luna's shoulder. "Luna chose me," he said, like he really meant it. "I am enough for her." It wasn't loud, but it was special to Luna. It was really important. Clara just stared out like she was trying to think. Luna felt something bad in her chest. She leaned on him. She pressed her face to his shoulder because she wanted him to protect her from her choice. "You know exactly what to say to me," she told him. Ethan put his chin down. His lips brushed Luna's hair softly. "I will always protect Luna," he said. His voice was deep, dark, and sure. Luna listened hard. She felt everything in the moment. People weren't sure what to do. Her family didn't want her. But the feeling of being that close to Ethan, of the promise they weren't supposed to make aloud to each other, was real to Luna. She was sure to hold onto it no matter how much she was told she shouldn't. And long after the sun was down, the city looked up from the river and spun around at the bright lights. Ethan put his arm around Luna. She put her head on his chest. The city around them kept going and getting ready for the night. But in his little world, everything felt ok. Suddenly, Luna's phone beeped. Luna looked at her phone. Her mom had sent a message. The words made her stomach turn and spin: Are you sure you agreed? He's nothing. You've ruined your life. She looked at Ethan. She was not sure if she wanted to give him the message. She could see that she was not herself. She saw that Luna was tense. She looked at Ethan. She was thinking a lot about her mother's message. The message from her mother said he was nothing and that she would be in a mess if she were married to him. He is nothing. And he said he was nothing. He spoke softly. He tilted his chin so she could look at his peaceful face. "We will work through this," he told her. She nodded her head. She still felt terrible. Her mother sounded furious. She was mad.

Cliffhanger: And then a big black car goes by. It pulls up at the street's corner on the other side of the street. The windows are foggy, so Luna can't see who is inside. She thinks the people in the car are staring at her, and she knows they are looking right at her. She's sure of it. Her heart skips a beat and holds up. Ethan stiffens next to her and is trying to make himself bigger with his muscles. His eyes blink a tiny bit as the gun in his head gets sleepy. The joyful, warm feeling in the city is gone, and it is time for it to return. Luna's fingers cover the sting on top of her hands, and her fist is cool in her blood. Whatever it is, she knows that she will not be claimed anymore. And he, the one with the eyes with a will, has come to take her.

That morning, the apartment was oddly silent, as if Bangkok had taken a deep breath and was holding it. Traffic droned beyond the windows, distant and softened, round and gentle like a lullaby, but inside Luna's ears it snapped and crackled and buzzed. Sitting on the bed's edge, the sun warming the wooden floorboards beneath her, she studied the thin gold band on her finger, wrinkling her nose at the way the light winked where it rested.

It was modest, with no stones, no shells, and no tiny swirls of embellishment, bought with optimism, chosen by stubborn hope, rather than any promise of return. It was a symbol of the line she kept repeating (sometimes aloud) that true love was enough. She had to believe it; there was no space for anything else today.

Ethan was leaning on the balcony railing, looking down on the city as a smear of silver, glass, and stone. Bangkok was just a crowd of faceless humanity, sparkling and uncaring about one person's life. His tie hung loose, his sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, a calculated impertinence after the cruelty they'd endured last night. A steadiness had settled to him now, a hushed gravitas, making it so she didn't unravel when her thoughts spiraled loose.

She edged closer and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. He turned, and the instant his gaze caught hers, it softened. "Thinking about your boys again?" he asked, tenderly, with a hint of mischief.

Luna exhaled and leaned into his shoulder, shutting her eyes for just a second. "They say I destroyed my life," she said. "That I married a sorry loser, who doesn't have any needs or ambitions, or-" she snipped herself off and smirked. "Or money, I suppose."

Ethan laughed, unaffected. He wove together their fingers as if none of that mattered. "I'm glad you married me," he whispered.

She lifted her hand, so the ring caught the light. "Because of this?" she teased.

"No." He shook his head steadily. "Because of you."

And the feeling washed warm and deep. And for a moment, the sharp grin, the barbed words, and the barrage of unbelief that had spiked Luna's mornings were all swept aside. With Ethan beside her, the world resumed the narrow focus of the balcony, the coffee-stuffed table, and the silence that stretched between them.

The morning grew precise and domestic and felt, so oddly, perfect. Luna cooked; Ethan did the washing up. There was a purposeful mildness to him, rinsing delicate plates with languid, practiced strokes, drying them with gentle, methodical pats. Every few minutes, his hand brushed hers, or he mumbled a phrase that made her grin. It was the sort of familiarity that was so extremely familiar that it was almost comforting, and it was beginning to fill corners she hadn't yet realized were empty.

Then her phone buzzed with a message from her mother: Luna, don't forget that shacking up with a loser who's not going anywhere is a gamble. Remember what's on the line. Short. Cutting. Predictable.

"They simply don't comprehend," she muttered, mostly to herself.

He crept up behind her and gathered her in against him. His chin brushed her shoulder before he pressed brief kisses to her temple. "They will never understand," he said. "But we do. And that should be enough."

She leaned into him, breathing him in like a charm. Outside, the world moved on. Inside the world was a silent, fragile peace. Then the doorbell rang out, loud and clear, a note that pierced the clamor. Luna stared; Ethan's grip on her waist tightened by a hair, not dramatically, just protectively.

In the hall, the courier held an unassuming envelope. "For Miss Harris," he said.

She took it, surprised at the cold thread crawling through her. She ripped it open on the counter. One page. The handwriting struck her like a physical blow, the loops, the pressure, and the repetition reminiscent of when Marcus wrote. The words: Congratulations have been received. We must meet. As soon as possible.

She shivered and whispered, "It's Marcus."

Ethan watched her carefully, her own collectedness unreadable in him. Yet, his eyes held something, something she couldn't quite place. "Tomorrow," he whispered. "We'll work him out. Us."

She nodded and allowed him to enfold her. His presence tried to smooth the cold thread of dread in her stomach. She took comfort in that for a little bit. Then she left him and went to the little garden beside her building. It smelled fresher. A few sparrows darted through the shrubs. Petals fluttered like wayward promises. She slipped her finger underneath the ring and balanced it on her thumb, drawing the tickling nick in its banks. "Love has to be enough," she murmured, as if to tell herself it was.

Ethan pressed a hand on her shoulder from behind. He fingered loose hair and kissed her temple. Empty, deliberate, promised.

Her phone rang again. Vanessa's name was carved across the screen: How quaint. Enjoy your little delusion. Don't be terrified if reality intrudes. Too short, too specific.

Luna chuckled, tender and bitter. "They simply don't understand happiness."

"But you know," Ethan mumbled, leaning into a sweet press on her mouth and nose, "and that has to be enough."

A small mountain of washing and more cooking awaits them. Small, aggregated movements: a hand candy here, a shoulder bumped there, jokes a word here, a whisper a syllable. Luna hummed. Ethan listened like he meant to keep that fragile thing locked away safe. Those tiny stitches stitched up her hopes, weaving her back piece by piece until she was sure that love could clutch a person tight enough to keep them all right.

And then dinner was over, and on the rooftop, lanterns hovered above the two of them, casting lucent, amber light, and Ethan came to her, and his voice said, "Do you trust me?"

And she did. "I do," she whispered.

Her phone sang it for her. Marcus: I am aware of your location. If you dare to believe that granting you your request is optional, then be prepared. Prepare yourself.

Her knees were shaking. Ethan's face didn't shift. The knot in her stomach grew colder; icy, electric dread sparked to life. Love is a power. She'd been holding to that belief, but at that very instant, she knew, in a bitter little tremor, that it might not be enough.

Cliffhanger: The city outside shone while the flowers swayed in the summer wind. Outside, pressing in too tight to breathe. Marcus was hunting; irresistible; methodical; he wouldn't stop until tomorrow had come and gone. And she? She had Ethan. Quiet, still, holding secrets Luna hadn't discovered. Whatever happened tomorrow would shatter illusions and reveal the truth, and everything Luna knew would cease to be what she knew. Tomorrow's here. Everything is about to change.