Darling, You Lose

Chapter 31: The Wedding Date is Moved Up

“We’re getting married this weekend.” Rafael’s voice is final, unyielding.

The words hit Elena like a punch in the stomach. She feels her breath catch in her throat, but she does her best to mask it. She can’t show weakness, not now, not when she’s this close to the edge. She forces a smile, but it feels more like a grimace than anything else. Inside, her mind is spiraling, her heart racing.

“This weekend?” Elena repeats, trying to keep her voice steady, like she’s genuinely thrilled. “I thought we had more time.”

Rafael watches her with sharp eyes, studying her every movement, every change in her expression. She can tell he’s looking for something, waiting for her to slip up. He’s always watching her now, always keeping tabs on her, and it makes her skin crawl.

“We’re moving it up,” he says, leaning back in his chair with a smirk on his lips. “I’ve waited long enough, Elena. I’m not wasting any more time. I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

Elena nods, forcing herself to look excited. “Of course, Rafael. Whatever you want.”

But inside, her stomach is doing flips, and panic is starting to set in. This wasn’t part of the plan. She wasn’t ready for this. There was supposed to be time, time to figure things out, time to find a way to escape, but now everything’s happening too fast.

She stands there for a moment, her hands nervously clasped together, and Rafael’s eyes never leave her. His gaze is intense, almost like he can read her mind. She knows he can tell something’s off, that she’s not reacting the way he wants her to, but she pushes the thought aside. She can’t let him know how terrified she really is.

“You’ll wear the dress I picked,” Rafael continues, his voice casual but commanding. “It’s already been delivered. I want you to look perfect, Elena. Everyone needs to see that you’re mine.”

“Of course,” she murmurs, her mind racing. She can already picture it—the dress, the ceremony, the guests, all watching her like a spectacle. It’s suffocating.

But she knows she has no choice. She has to play along, pretend to be excited, pretend to be in love. She can’t let him see how much she wants to scream, to run far away and never look back.

Rafael stands up then, walking over to her. He reaches for her chin, lifting her face so that their eyes meet. “I’m giving you everything, Elena,” he says, his voice lower now, more serious. “You’ll be mine in every way. No more running. No more games. This is it.”

Elena’s throat tightens, and she feels the urge to pull away, but she can’t. She’s trapped, locked in this web with no way out. She nods again, her heart thundering in her chest. “I understand, Rafael.”

He studies her for a moment longer, his gaze cold and calculating. “Good. I knew you would. I’m not going to let you ruin this.”

As he turns to leave, Elena’s mind races. She’s running out of time. This wedding, this “commitment” he’s forcing on her—it’s all happening too fast. She doesn’t know how much longer she can keep this up.

The door closes behind him, and she lets out a shaky breath, trying to steady herself.

She forces herself to move, walking over to the window and looking out at the city below. Everything feels so far away, so out of reach. She’s stuck here, in this gilded cage, with no clear way to break free. The thought of being married to Rafael—trapped with him forever—makes her stomach turn.

But then, just as she’s about to lose herself in panic, her phone buzzes on the table. She quickly snatches it up, hoping against hope that it’s a message from Alexander.

The message is short, direct, and almost too much of a relief:

“You need to be ready to run in 72 hours.”

Her breath catches in her throat. It’s like a lifeline, a rope thrown to her just before she sinks too deep. She quickly reads the message again, just to be sure she didn’t misread it. But no, it’s clear. In three days, Alexander will make his move. She can escape. She can finally get out of here.

Her heart starts to beat faster, the panic and excitement mixing together in a storm inside her chest. But she can’t let it show. She can’t get too hopeful. Not yet. Not until she’s safely out of Rafael’s reach.

Elena’s hands tremble as she types a quick reply: “I’m ready.”

She presses send and places the phone back down on the table, taking a deep breath. Her mind is spinning, and her thoughts are a blur. She’s been given a deadline. 72 hours. Three days to figure out how to escape, how to outrun Rafael’s control.

But there’s one thing she knows for sure: she can’t fail this time. She can’t let Rafael win.