When The Puppet Falls For The Puppeteer

The Oath

Myra

The door clicked shut behind me, and silence filled the room.

I lay still, clutching the blanket to my chest, my body weak but my mind racing. My chest burned with the question I couldn't ask. Jess had said no. I'd seen it in his eyes the night he told me. For one impossible second, I had believed it was over. Believed he wouldn't go through with it. Believed... foolishly... that my defiance had worked.

Then why was he insisting otherwise? How could he still claim Sunday as if nothing had changed? Had Jess been forced? By her father bent or by his uncle's pressure? Or had Marcus simply decided that my hope didn't matter—that he would rewrite reality, and I would swallow it like the water he pressed to my lips?

I curled onto my side, burying my face in the pillow. The tears came hot and fast now, silent but endless. Because I couldn't ask. I couldn't press him without revealing what I'd done, without admitting that I had interfered. And if he knew that...

My chest tightened with dread.

So I lay there, obedient, while the weight of his command pressed down harder than any blanket: Arrange the wedding. Forget everything else.

But forgetting was impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Sunday looming—a celebration I would have to stitch together with my own hands. Flowers, music, decorations... all while my heart twisted with questions I could never voice.

He had left me trembling, but his shadow lingered. Even alone, my room belonged to him. My silence, my obedience, my breaking—it was all his.

And I knew, with a sick certainty, that come morning I would do exactly as he wanted.

Because what choice did I have?

"Red"

"Red wake up"

I heard his voice from some place far away. I wanted to reach out to him but I was not able to.

"Red" I felt his touch but I was not able to touch him back. I was saying something but he was not listening

"Red!" I jolted. My eyes opened to find him sitting next to me in my bed. 

I sat up

"Hey...wake up" he said in a tender voice "Red you were crying in your sleep" he said as his fingers brushed my cheeks wiping the tears.

"Oh"  I touched my face too. I blinked hard, embarrassed. My throat felt raw, as if I'd been sobbing all night. "I don't remember," I whispered, but my voice cracked.

"Nightmares?"

I hesitated. The images that had flickered in my restless mind were too hazy to recall clearly—flashes of loneliness, shadows of a wedding that wasn't mine, Marcus walking away from me. "Maybe. Or maybe it wasn't a dream at all."

His jaw shifted. He leaned closer, his shadow falling over me. "You don't need to cry, Red. Crying doesn't change anything. What matters is that you obey."

It was like he'd pressed a blade against my ribs, invisible but sharp. I forced myself to nod. "Yes, Marcus."

"Good. I have a big day today, so..." He kissed my temple as if sealing the command, then rose, leaving me hollow in the bed.

"I know" I said I remember what is today. The one day everyone was waiting for. "Finally"I said getting down the bed.

"What do you mean?" He said stopping just before he could leave the room.

I shrugged. "If this hadn't been happening, then all of this would have been for nothing. Today is the most important day—everything is happening for it. What matters more than this day?" I said, feeling hollow