Astrid
“Get her things from her home,” Adrian said to the chauffeur once we'd arrived at his house. It was obvious Adrian was doing quite well, a huge contrast to the man I’d known five years ago.
His house was massive, the kind that felt too big for one person. Knowing Adrian, though, he probably lived alone.
“Should I be surprised you know where I live?” I asked, crossing my arms. My tone was dry, but I was genuinely curious. His brown eyes narrowed on me.
“No, you shouldn't,” he replied curtly, turning away and heading up the wide front steps. The driver pulled out of the garage, leaving me alone to follow.
I took in the sight of the house as I trailed after him. Well, if I’d be staying here for a couple of months, I might as well start familiarizing myself with the place.
Adrian walked ahead, his strides confident and unhurried. My gaze drifted to his frame. His shoulders were broade

~Astrid~
“Okay. I saw the news, and it’s ridiculous,” Freya chuckled awkwardly as I dried my hair. I already knew what she was about to say but kept quiet, letting her speak.
“Your doppelganger got announced as Adrian’s fiancée. It’s sickening that he’s actually getting married to someone who looks like you. Screw that, I think they’re already married,” she continued as I dressed quickly, my thoughts racing.
“Are you listening to me, Ash?” she asked, her voice curious. I nodded, knowing fully well she couldn’t see me.
“I can hear you,” I said, glancing around my room. I’d spent most of the night arranging everything while waiting for my things to arrive, so everything was already in place.
“I knew he never got over you. I always knew it,” Freya giggled, oblivious to the tension building inside me. I let out a steady breath. It was now or never.
“I’m his wife, Fre. I got married to Adrian

Astrid
I stared at myself in the floor-length mirror, admiring the white dress I’d bought at the last minute.
The dress was beautiful, ending at my knees with a silver lining at the neckline and delicate pearls hanging from it.
It felt ironic how a dress so pretty could be for an occasion so… fake. I wasn’t just the event planner anymore. Now, I was the bride.
I had pinned my hair into a bun and done my makeup myself. This wasn’t a grand affair. Adrian had decided we’d go to a small chapel to get married, and I couldn’t have been happier.
If I was lucky, I’d walk away from this sham of a marriage with a clean slate and someday marry someone who deserved me.
I turned away, grabbed the bouquet, and slipped my shoes on. Adrian would arrive any second.
Two days ago, at the engagement party, we had exchanged contact information.
I opened the door just in time to see an SUV pull up. The chauffeur, who I assumed worked for Adrian, rolled the window down and nodded at me. I quickly crossed the street and got into the car.
What I didn’t expect was to see Adrian sitting in the backseat, frowning at his phone.
Traditionally, the groom isn’t supposed to see the bride until the ceremony, but this wasn’t a real marriage, so it didn’t count.
He didn’t even glance at me when I shut the door, and I couldn’t have been more relieved. This was business. We had no say in each other’s lives.
The ride was silent, thick with tension. I fidgeted with the bouquet, wrapping and unwrapping my hands around the stems, willing my heart to calm down.
It was a fake marriage, even though I was marrying the man I’d once loved. It was still fake.
My palms grew clammy. My heartbeat quickened.
I glanced at the bouquet again, my eyes catching on a bottle of Xanax sitting on the leather seat between Adrian and me.
My heart slowed as I stared at it before glancing at Adrian. His jaw was tight, and his eyes were fixed on his phone.
“Who owns this?” I asked, nodding toward the Xanax.
“Take a pill,” he said, his voice low and even.
I raised an eyebrow. “Why would I? For all I know, you’ve done something to it.”
His brown eyes locked on mine for the first time since I’d entered the car.
“Your palms are clammy, your pupils are dilated, and I can hear your heartbeat, sunshine,” he said, his voice calm but edged with knowing. “Take the pill. You’re nervous.”
I swallowed hard, trying to look indifferent.
“You don’t know me, Mr. Voss. I’ll be fine,” I said flatly, turning my gaze out the window.
It was a lie. He knew me. Too well. He knew I’d get nervous, and he knew exactly what would help. That bottle of Xanax wasn’t sitting there by chance.
He didn’t say anything more, and I kept my eyes on the passing scenery, silently counting to ten to steady my breathing.
We arrived at the chapel minutes later. I took a deep breath before stepping out of the car, Adrian following behind me.
Our eyes met briefly before I looked away, resisting the urge to smooth my hands down my dress.
He walked ahead, and I followed him into the nearly deserted chapel. Only the minister was waiting.
Soon enough, we stood facing each other, reciting vows that felt hollow.
“...In sickness and in health, in good times and in bad. So help me God,” I repeated, sliding the band onto his finger. My hand lingered for a moment, but I felt nothing.
Not even the flicker of excitement I thought I might feel when getting married.
Adrian repeated his vows, his eyes never leaving mine.
I looked away as he slid the band onto my finger. Meaningless. Fake.
The minister smiled broadly. “You may now kiss your bride,” he announced.
My eyes shot to Adrian’s, a warning buried in my gaze.
He pulled me closer and brushed his lips against my cheek, his voice low as he muttered, “You’ll want my lips on you again someday, wife.”
A shiver ran through me, and I prayed he hadn’t noticed. But the faint amusement in his eyes said otherwise as he pulled back.
I clenched my teeth, my fing
ers itching to wipe the spot where his lips had touched.
I would never want him. Never need him.
Hopefully.

Astrid
“Get her things from her home,” Adrian said to the chauffeur once we'd arrived at his house. It was obvious Adrian was doing quite well, a huge contrast to the man I’d known five years ago.
His house was massive, the kind that felt too big for one person. Knowing Adrian, though, he probably lived alone.
“Should I be surprised you know where I live?” I asked, crossing my arms. My tone was dry, but I was genuinely curious. His brown eyes narrowed on me.
“No, you shouldn't,” he replied curtly, turning away and heading up the wide front steps. The driver pulled out of the garage, leaving me alone to follow.
I took in the sight of the house as I trailed after him. Well, if I’d be staying here for a couple of months, I might as well start familiarizing myself with the place.
Adrian walked ahead, his strides confident and unhurried. My gaze drifted to his frame. His shoulders were broader than I remembered, his legs stronger. And his biceps? Hard to say, considering he was always in a 

Her Plans