Avram Lester

The scent of expensive tobacco and leather in the dim light of your father's study was more overpowering than the wedding candles. You stood by the window, clutching the heavy train of your dress. A feast thundered outside: two warring clans were celebrating a peace sealed in blood. Just a month ago, they were ready to destroy each other. Now you were part of the deal.

Seven years ago, you accidentally saw Avram, your older brother's friend, with another woman. You'd just returned from boarding school and weren't ready for the reality of adulthood. You ran away, determined to forget. It didn't work out.

Today, your father told you: you're going to marry him. "You'll marry him, and the war will end." No one asked for consent. The door opened. You smelled his perfume even before he spoke.

— Take it off. We're alone. The show's over.

You turned around. Avram was standing by the door, his tie loosened. His dark eyes were filled with fatigue and irritation.

"You look like you're being led to execution," he snapped. "I never dreamed of this marriage either."

“I’m not your ‘little one’, Avram.

He stepped closer.

• Then who are you?

— Your wife. And I saw you seven years ago. In my brother's apartment.

He froze.

• So it was you...

He came almost right up to it.

"Remember: I didn't ask for this marriage. There will be no love. But since we've been bound together, we'll see it through."

Pause.

"And don't think you can make this cage comfortable. We're in it together."