I struggled and screamed, but my parents remained unmoved.
To them, I was simply ungrateful. Robbie was already a high school teacher at such a young age; I was nothing but a fresh high school graduate, and whether I could even get into university was uncertain. In their eyes, I was the one climbing above my station.
They locked me in the Stark family's woodshed—and Rachel, who refused to marry Ned, was locked away too.
Even though Rachel's family was better off—her father a factory director—there was still a younger brother to consider. Aside from the generous wedding gift already prepared for her, everything else belonged to him.
We exchanged a glance through the gloom of the shed and felt our hope drain away. I crouched in a corner with a long-suffering sigh. Rachel crouched beside me. In that cramped, dark room, we leaned on one another like we always had; only we knew how deep the pain ran.
Rachel let out a rueful breath. "They say a girl who isn't loved has no home after marriage. Looks like we don't even have a home before we're married."
I answered with a sigh of my own. "Haven't we learned that the hard way in our last life? There's no one we can rely on but ourselves."
Outside, the wedding celebrations went on. No one cared how the two brides felt. Everyone was busy congratulating the Stark brothers, my parents, and Rachel's parents.
What was there to celebrate? I thought miserably.
Given a second chance at life, we weren't going to live it like we had before, submissive and defeated. I shook my head at the memory of last life's misery.
"No," I said. "We still have advantages this time."
Rachel rolled her eyes. "They've locked us up. We can't fight them, we can't run. What advantage do we have?"
I tapped her shoulder and leaned in close. "In our previous life, we were kept in the dark. But this time, we know exactly what Robbie and Ned want, don't we? And I remember clearly: after the wedding party, we didn't register the marriage. Why don't we use that to our advantage?"
The Stark family wouldn't keep us locked forever. After the feast dispersed, someone at the shed door unfastened the lock. Robbie stood in the doorway; likely drunk, his pale face tipped with liquor.
"Had your fun?" he slurred. "If you're done making trouble, then be a good wife."
He reached up as if to stroke my head. I flinched on instinct, but forced myself to stay put and put on a timid expression.
"Will you really treat me well?" I asked, voice small.
Robbie laughed. "Of course. You're my wife. If I don't treat you well, who would I treat well?"
