When Alexis’ parents forced her to marry Robert, she had no idea what she was getting herself into. Later, Alexis broke the one rule her husband gave her and entered the room he warned her about, unleashing secrets she wasn’t prepared for.
I couldn’t understand why my parents wanted me to get married before I found someone myself.
“Alexis,” my mother said, “Robert is a catch. He’s a wealthy man who will take care of you.
You wouldn’t even have to work.”
I couldn’t refuse.
My father had made it clear.
“You marry Robert, Alexis,” he said, puffing on his cigar.
“Or you can figure out your own living arrangements.”
In a sense, Robert was my prince charming.
Our family had a bakery, which was losing customers because we had no gluten-free options on the menu.
“We will continue to bake what we know,” my father insisted. Our marriage was definitely an arranged one.
Robert was cold and distant, and I never understood how my father arranged our marriage. Our wedding was an extravagant display of his wealth, with everything planned by a top wedding planner, including my custom dress. Despite the grand event, Robert and I barely spoke. A few days before the wedding, he confessed, “I’m looking forward to being married, but I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Two days after our wedding, we moved into a mansion filled with luxury—golf courses, a swimming pool, and a full staff. “This house belongs to you too,” Robert said with pride. But then he added, “One rule: never go into the attic.”
Curiosity got the better of me, and one day, I went to the attic. What I found there—old toys, photographs, and letters—revealed a side of Robert I hadn’t known. When he found me, he was furious, but I just wanted to understand him. He finally shared stories of his lonely childhood and the love he’d never received from his stern, soldier father.
In that moment, I saw him not as the cold man I married, but as a boy longing for love. Over time, Robert began to open up to me, and now, years later, our daughter April has brought healing to him. The attic is no longer a shrine to his past, but my reading nook.