Bonds

-Maya's POV-

My silence hung heavy in the air, thicker than the city mist clinging to the car windows. Ivan finally broke it, his voice laced with an apology I wasn't ready to accept. "You are upset with me," he stated, the obviousness grating on my already raw nerves.

I swivelled towards him, my glare hot enough to melt the ice currently residing in my veins growing every second from the encounter with Alex.

"My relationship with Miranda... it's complicated," he offered, his voice trailing off like an unfinished sentence. But complications meant nothing to me in that moment. My hurt, a gaping wound, demanded clarity, not excuses.

"Does this complication make you SCARED of her?" I spat, each word laced with venom. "Because you just puppet on her strings. I don't even know her, so what is her problem with me?!"ConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

sat there and let her make jabs at me, like a My voice escalated, mirroring the turmoil within. The frustration of the encounter with Miranda, the sting of Alex's reappearance, all converged into a torrent aimed at Ivan. He flinched at the force of my outburst, but it did little to get rid of the firestorm.

He sighed, a weary sound that spoke volumes. "It's not you," he began, attempting to soothe the tempest. "Miranda is like that with everyone. She thrives on feeling superior, tearing down those around her to build herself up. I'm sorry she ruined our dinner.

But his apology rang hollow. "She didn't ruin the dinner, Ivan," I snarled, my wolf straining at the leash, baring her fangs at the perceived weakness. "You did."

The accusation hung heavy in the air, a stark contrast to the soft hum of the engine. His eyes widened, surprise battling with hurt. But it was the hurt that stung, a flicker of vulnerability exposing the truth beneath his carefully constructed facade, My wolf whined, urging me forward, demanding answers. Yet, a sliver of reason held me back.

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to calm the storm within. The questions wouldn't disappear, but the accusations wouldn't get us anywhere. I needed a different approach.

"Tell me the truth, Ivan," I said, my voice softer now, but no less determined. "Why did you let her treat me like that? Why the silence when I needed you? We are going to be married and you said you didn't want it to be on my father's terms but I need to know that I can count on you when I need to."

Silence stretched between us, taut and heavy. But this time, it wasn't suffocating. It was filled with anticipation, a shared space where secrets might finally be unveiled.

"Do you think I am so weak and I cannot handle what it is? Is that why you went to my father to marry me out of all the options you could have had.... Because you think I am so weak and go with whatever I'm told?," I stated, the accusation hanging heavy in the stagnant air of the car. It wasn't a question, but a realization that hit me like a sucker punch.

Ivan flinched, the hurt in his eyes deepening. "That is not true. I don't think you are weak and it's not that simple," he muttered, his voice tight

"Then make it simple," I snapped, my wolf straining at the leash, her claws scraping against the metaphorical cage of my control. "Because right now, all I see is you letting your sister walk all over me, silence strung like pearls around your neck."

He sighed, a deep, frustrated sound. "Miranda and I...we have a history," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "A complicated one, filled with....baggage not like regular siblings. She is like a ticking bomb and I try everything to make sure she doesn't go off... Everything not to accelerate the seconds."

My anger simmered, laced with a flicker of curiosity. "What kind of baggage?" I pressed, needing to understand the invisible strings that bound him.

He hesitated, his gaze fixed on the passing cityscape, a million unsaid words battling for release. Finally, he spoke, his voice laced with pain. "Our parents were killed right in front of us. She was five years and..."

His words resonated deep within me, striking a chord of empathy. "How old were you?" I whispered.

Seven."

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I felt all the anger disappear in seconds, "I am really sorry, I cannot imagine what that coud have been like or for her. You had your childhood stripped. away from you but still that doesn't give Miranda the right to treat people like that."

"I know," he said, his voice thick with regret. "And I apologize. Truly. But Miranda... she's fragile, and right now, especially vulnerable. After they died, it was the two of us against the world and then things changed when we were old enough to start dating. She is really possessive of me. Seeing you with me... It triggered something in her."

"Seeing me with you? You make it sound like I'm some kind of trophy or maybe you are the trophy," I scoffed, the hurt bubbling to the surface.

"No," his hand reaching out to grip mine, but I instinctively pulled away. "it's not like that. You... you represent something new, something good in my life. And Miranda... she doesn't like change. She fears losing the only constant she has left. It has always been like that. She can date but I can't. Now that I am marrying, she made it clear that she is upset She has always been like that."

His words resonated within me, painting a picture of a fractured relationship, of loyalty twisted by loss and fear, My anger softened, replaced by a sliver of sympathy

"You can't let her fear dictate your actions, Ivan," I said, my voice gentler now. "You have to stand up for yourself, for me."

He met my gaze, his eyes searching mine. "I will," he vowed, his voice firming with resolve. "But it won't be easy. Miranda...she can be ruthless."

"Then let's be ruthless together," I challenged, a spark igniting in my chest. "We face this, whatever it is, head-on. As equals, not puppets to someone else's drama."

He smiled, a flicker of hope lighting up his features. "As equals," he echoed, squeezing my hand gently.

The streetlamps reflected in his hopeful smile, casting dancing shadows on his determined face. His hand lingered in mine, the silent agreement warming my skin. Suddenly, he brought the car to a halt, the tires squealing against the asphalt Ivan... What are you-" i began, confusion tugging at my brows. But a thrill, unexpected and exhilarating, fluttered in my chest. He didn't wait for my question, stepping out and pulling me along with him.

"Doing things on our terms," he stated, his voice firm despite the tremor in his hand. "Equals, remember?"

My heart skipped a beat as understanding dawned. "You're not... What are you doing?"

"We are getting married?" he finished, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Right here. Right now."

A laugh bubbled up, nervous and light. "Ivan, we're in the middle of the street!

We can't just-"

My words died in my throat as he dropped to one knee, the concrete providing an unconventional altar. My breath-hitched, eyes widening in shock. In his hand, glinting under the streetlight, was a ring.

"Maya," he said, his voice husky with emotion, "you deserve more than a gilded cage and a preordained future. m You deserve love, laughter, and at partnership built on trust and respect. So, will you do me the incredible honor of becoming my wife, right here, right now, under the open sky and with only the stars as our witnesses? And maybe the people you are currently stopping to stare."

The last part had me barking out a laugh.

Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring the city lights and the curious faces peeking from nearby windows. This wasn't what I expected when I agreed to come back and marry a stranger Chapter 12

undeniably him.

A choked laugh escaped my lips, "Are you crazy?" I whispered, my voice thick with emotion.

He grinned, his eyes sparkling. "Maybe. But beautifully, wonderfully crazy. So, what do you say, Maya? Do you take the chance on forever with a man who might be slightly insane?"

The decision was clear. This wasn't a fairy tale proposal, but the start of our own unique adventure. Taking a deep breath,I met his gaze, a smile blooming on my face.

"Ivan," I said, my voice trembling with joy, "you may be crazy, but you're my kind of crazy. And yes, yes, a thousand times yes!"

He whooped, the sound echoing through the quiet street, and pulled me into a tight embrace. The kiss that followed was electric, charged ve with the thrill of defying expectations and the promise of a future written on our own terms. As our laughter mingled with the honking of impatient cars, I knew this wasn't just the beginning of a marriage, but the start of something extraordinary.

Little did I know that this very moment was just the beginning of the chaos,