They spent her whole life telling her that it was her job to protect the family, but at some point, it just starts feeling like her family keeps trying to kill her. Petal Berkely was born to be the shield that protected her older brother Reed and sister Rose; it was a tradition by the Berkelys, and considered an honor, but it made her feel disposable. She spent her whole life taking the blame for her brother's accidents and her sister's scandals, believing it was her duty to the family she loved, but she never realized that she was never loved in return.

If they did, they would have never forced her to do this because her sister cheated on her boyfriend. She stood in this white dress while her mother was too busy adjusting the heavy, antique lace of Petal’s veil. She had worn the bruises of their mistakes like medals of honor, believing that the silence she maintained was the glue holding their dynasty together. This dress was an extension of that.

To her family, she wasn't a person but a lightning rod to catch all of their strikes, and the only good thing about this wedding was that she would no longer have to be the lightning rod. Her sister swept into the room without a care, with expensive lilies and a mile-long smile. Rose looked longingly at what she had given up, the dress. Rose was not mad about anything else but losing that. Since a week ago, Rose had been the one rehearsing this walk, the one meant to secure the trade deal with the Collins family, but that was until the scandal. Rose was found in the leaked photos with the son of a rival house, and not just any rival house, her father's and the Collins' enemy. It was a messy affair that nearly stopped the merger before the ink was even dry on the contract. Now, Rose stood there playing as if she were a supportive sister and not the one who tanked Petal's life.

"Time to walk to the groom," her mother said.

Her father slunk into the room not a minute sooner than required, and wordlessly linked arms with Petal. He did not look at her, though, he did not meet Rose's eye either, and so Petal assumed this was his way of confirming what she already knew. That she was as worthless as Rose even without a flaw that was truly hers.

Ever the whipping girl, Petal thought, which she recognised was a macabre thought to have while being walked down the aisle. She also recognised that this was a sham marriage, and that Yohan Collins would likely have ever more women on the side while she was expected to stay neatly in the confines of the box marked 'dutiful wife', which she realised may be even narrowed than the box marked 'dutiful daughter'.

The entered the room after thirty long seconds, doors open and flooding Petal's exposed skin, which wasn't much, with warmth and the smell of lillies. Only twenty people rose to look at her, ten on each side, close family only, for this was a closed wedding, a private one, with both families being so prominent, we couldn't possibly risk letting a bad actor in. Her father gave her away and then swiftly took his seat. His eyes stayed trained on Yohan, and never met hers again.

The officiant cleared his throat. Officiant, not priest, because Yohan's family weren't religious, and they had the bigger slice of the pie, and her father had been eager to please.

"Please be seated," he rasped, on in his aged tone, and he went on for many minutes more as Yohan grasped both of Petal's hands in his and looked into her eyes in a convincing play of adoration. Though her and Rose looked nothing alike, Petal suddenly realised he was staring at her nose. The one trait that Rose and Petal had in common. It hit her sort of like a crashing wave, hard, but fluid. The realisation that once, love played a minor role in all of this.

Eventually, and without Petal even realising, time had come for the rings, and she allowed Yohan's trembling, pink fingers to thread hers with that platinum band, and she was given a matching one, which she threaded onto Yohan's, and no one cried, which was odd, because on TV people always cried at weddings, and then it was over, and the officiant said you may now kiss the bride, and Petal realised with a fleeting confusion, that this was her first kiss.

It was over as soon as it had begun.

Yohan linked his arm through hers, and marched her out of the room, families in tow, Petal slowly remembering one key fact: this was godless union, and she was free to act.