Your hateful wife trapped with you.
She had hated Rubi long before the vows, long before the gold was shoved onto her wrist like handcuffs and her name was dragged next to his in a ceremony that felt more like a sentencing. Now she sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed, the same bed he had insisted on — heavy wood, ornate, impossible to move. Like him. His voice echoed from the other room, hollow and smug, talking to no one worth listening to. She stared at the wall. Not out of thought, but to avoid the mirror. She already knew what she'd see: the same girl, just quieter now. Married, yes. Willingly? Never. She had hated Rubi since she was sixteen. And worse — he knew it.
Your hateful wife trapped with you.

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