Enemies At The Altar

t evening, but the tension insi

Essentials. Anything she could grab in case she decided she'd

at the door

rk's voice, low and calm,

. When she finally spoke, it w

were slow, deliberat

flaring. "Why do you care

and piercing. "It is my busines

are you just obeying my father's orders li

emotion. "I am not a soldier," he said evenly. "I am a husband. An

make me laugh. You think wearing a suit and standing at my father's side makes you my husband? You're

s calm. "I am not your father's puppet. And I am not here for gratitude. I am here becau

eak like that! I'm not yours! I am me, and I

't exist here, Mia. You were forced into this world the day you were born. You can fight it, scream at me,

that's it? You're just another extension of my fath

ead of her. "I am not your father, Mia. And I am not here to command you. B

t if I want to make my own decisions? Will you-will you just stand

not here to obey orders. I am here because I have always cared for you. Always. And n

ia's heart. For a brief, infuriating second, she felt se

are nothing but a soldier in my father's army. You always have been. And now-now you think

to fists at his sides.

ou to be. You follow orders. You obey. And I hate it! I hate you! I hate that you

aid, voice low, almost a growl. "I am here because I choose to be. You think I am a puppet of your

o lash out, to scream, to tell him she didn't believe him

Don't... don't try to twist this! You're my enemy, Mark. You always hav

the room. "Perhaps you don't. Perhaps you will fight it every day for the rest of your life. But the truth is,"-his voice softened, just enough to make her

omething sharp and unfamiliar-swirled inside her. She wanted to tur

d finally, voice trembling, thou

r space, but his eyes never left her. That quiet, unwavering stare told her everything she refused t

g. His loyalty, his patience, his control-it wasn't f

turned abruptly, grabbing her bag, and stormed out o

licker of something warmer crossed his face-a hint that, despite her

he wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to run. But most of all, she wanted to deny

ed, panting slightly, g

ouldn't ignore the fact that part of her h

ient, unwavering, knowing this w