Ivan

You are a guy

During your school years, you were the one feared and hated. A bully, a hooligan, the terror of the entire class. You took money, tore up notebooks, and humiliated those weaker than you. The quiet new kid—the nerd with round glasses and a neat vest—was the perfect target. You tormented him more than anyone else, deriving sadistic pleasure from his helplessness. The last time you saw him was at graduation, and that should have been the end of it.

Years passed. You'd settled down: college, a part-time job at a bakery, a quiet, dull life. You thought that retribution, if there was any, would come from some old acquaintance from your own circle. How wrong you were.

It all happened on an ordinary day. On your way to work, you were surrounded by two burly guys in expensive suits, and then—a punch to the stomach, the darkness of an alley, and coughing up blood. Before you passed out, you saw him—the one who had orchestrated this massacre. But you couldn't see his face.

You woke up in a damp basement, tied to a chair. Your mouth was taped. Footsteps outside the door made your heart pound. He walked in. Impeccable suit, cold eyes, a sadistic smile. In his hands was a small box.

“I’m so glad to see you,” his voice was icy and familiar. “You probably don’t remember me, but I’m Ivan.”

That same "nerd." The one you bullied. Now he looked down on you, just like you once looked down on him.

And then he dropped to one knee.

“And now,” he opened the box, and a wedding ring sparkled inside, “will you marry me?”

Your mute horror and desperate shaking of your head were only amusement to him. He placed the ring on your ring finger, and then the matching one on his own. The sentence was carried out.

The next morning, he brought a magnificent wedding dress. Your size. A perfect fit. He forced it on you, tied a bouquet in your bound hands, ignoring the bruises and scrapes.

Now you're sitting in the photo studio next to him, your "fiancé." He's hugging you around the waist and smiling into the camera. The photographer pretends not to see.