Chapter Text
the hall looked beautiful that night, as beautiful as Issac — or Itrapped — who was just as broken as Chance.
flowers everywhere, arranged with almost obsessive care, as if someone had tried to hide the weight of that night with petals. people laughing, soft music filling the space, glasses gleaming under the golden light of chandeliers. almost everything was so perfect… if it weren’t for Chance’s expression, stiff and unmoving, as if any emotion there would be a mistake.
Issac had already accepted all of this. or at least he pretended well. Chance maybe hadn’t — after all, Chance still had someone who loved him back in that life. Itrapped maybe didn’t. especially since his own family had left him there, like a coin dropped on the ground and not worth picking up.
at the altar, their vows were simple, short, and empty. memorized words, rehearsed, imposed.
vows neither of them wanted, but were said anyway, as if they were inevitable.
– if anyone objects to this marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace! – said the officiant, with a smile that didn’t match the heaviness hidden beneath everything.
for a second — a dangerous second — the silence seemed to stretch.
both Itrapped and Chance felt the urge to speak. to break everything. to run without looking back. but clearly, they didn’t. maybe because of the possibility of being hunted down by their families. maybe because, deep down, they already knew there was nowhere to run.
– Chance, do you accept Issac as your husband for the rest of your life?
time seemed to stop.
a long silence spread through the hall. even the faintest clink faded away. any small sound could be heard in that moment — a breath, the rustle of fabric, nervous hands shifting.
Chance tightened his jaw slightly, his gaze drifting away for a moment.
– I do.
(lie)
the words fell into the air, far heavier than the beautiful setting could hold.
when it was Itrapped’s turn, he didn’t hesitate. his voice came out calm, controlled, almost perfect — if it weren’t for the invisible weight carried in every word.
– I do.
it was all a lie. they both knew it.
the rings were placed like delicate symbols… elegant, even. like golden handcuffs.
that didn’t trap them.
(spoiler: they trapped them far more than they imagined.)
the kiss was dismissed with some excuse — “adjusted tradition,” they said — and no one questioned it loudly enough to matter.
after that, applause, laughter, the soft clinking of glasses and silverware filling the room again, as if nothing was wrong.
someone cried. emotion, they said.
neither of them did.
they weren’t even smiling.
as time passed and the food was served, the party carried on like a real fairytale. but if you looked a little closer, the cracks were there.
moments after the dishes were set down, far enough from others that their voices blended into the background, you could hear Chance and Itrapped “talking.”
– so? satisfied now? – Chance’s voice came low, laced with venom.
Itrapped didn’t look at him at first, just slowly swirling his glass.
– what do you think, Chance? obviously not.
– doesn’t seem like it.
– believe it or not, if either of us had a chance, we’d have already run. and the other would fake tears just to play the part. – he finally turned his head, glancing at Chance. – and besides… you’re not happy either.
Chance let out a dry, humorless laugh.
– of course. how could I be happy knowing I could’ve chosen to be with the person I love instead of… – he paused briefly, choosing his words carefully. – trash like you?
the silence between them grew heavier.
– don’t act like our pain is the same. you didn’t lose anything, Issac.
for a moment — just a moment — something flickered in Itrapped’s eyes. too fast to fully understand. pain, maybe. or something deeper.
– you really don’t pay attention, do you, Chance?
before Chance could respond, before he could question it or strike back, a voice called Itrapped from across the room.
sharp. authoritative.
probably someone from Chance’s family.
Itrapped let out a quiet sigh, like he expected it.
– see you later.
Chance looked away, crossing his arms.
– I hope not. and if we do… remember, this isn’t over.
Itrapped gave a faint nod.
– I know.
he left the room, searching for whoever had called him, his empty gaze passing over every smiling face, every detail too perfect in that place pretending to be a fairytale.
it wasn’t.
it never was.
and as he walked, something shifted — small, almost unnoticeable.
somewhere among the elegant shadows of the hall, an unfamiliar gaze rested on him like a silent butterfly.
light.
delicate.
and completely out of place.
watching.
calculating.
waiting.
Itrapped didn’t notice.
not yet.
but for the first time that night…
someone there wasn’t interested in the wedding —
but in what would come after it.