Bound by Unspoken Promises

Chapter 1

Lady Melinda caught her breath, her heart racing as she stood at the threshold of a new beginning. She was the epitome of sweetness and innocence, her bright smile a beacon of hope amidst the complexities of life. Today marked her first day as Lady Cedric Hawthorne, having wed Sir Cedric in a whirlwind arrangement that seemed plucked from the pages of a romantic novel. Their marriage, however, was anything but ordinary.
She glanced around the beautifully decorated living room of Hawthorne Manor, the grandeur almost overwhelming. Every piece of furniture, every painting spoke of wealth. But Melinda’s mind was set on more than opulence; she craved a genuine connection with her new husband. It had always been an unspoken understanding between them that this marriage would blossom into love, though all of it felt like a veiled gamble.
As Sir Cedric entered with a wave of confidence, a devil-may-care smile danced on his lips. His presence radiated charm. “Ready to explore our new life together?” he asked, with a hint of teasing in his tone. Melinda nodded, the flutter of butterflies stirring in her stomach.
“Oh! I’ve always dreamed of this,” she replied, excitement lacing her every word, although somewhere beneath that bubbly exterior, anxiety bubbled up.
The couple headed out to the Town Square, a vibrant hub of life. Shops bustled and people animatedly chatted over cups of coffee. In that moment, it felt as if anything were possible. They wandered through the colorful market stalls, smelling the sweet aroma of fresh baked goods and the robust scent of freshly brewed coffee from the nearby Rustic Tavern.
“Have you ever tried the pumpkin spice latte?” Cedric asked, raising an eyebrow. “It’s a fall classic.”
“No, I haven’t! But I’d love to,” Melinda replied with a giggle.
As they enjoyed their drinks, laughter echoed between them, creating a melody that drifted through the air. Yet, amidst the happiness, shadows sometimes crossed Melinda’s heart. What if this was just an arrangement? What if she was merely playing a role in someone else’s story?
Later that evening, after returning to the manor, they settled into The Velvet Lounge, where plush sofas invited them to relax. Cedric leaned back, his casual demeanor contrasting with the whirlwind of feelings inside Melinda. “You know, this whole ‘marriage for love’ thing? It's far more complicated than it seems.”
“Do you believe that?” she pressed, her eyes wide. To her surprise, Cedric’s brow furrowed thoughtfully.
“I just think love grows. It’s like—”
“Like a garden?” Melinda interjected, her enthusiasm spilling over.
“Exactly!” he exclaimed. “Your garden needs nurturing. If we keep planting the right seeds... perhaps we can grow something beautiful.”
She smiled, embellishing his metaphor with visions of blooming flowers and gentle breezes. Yet, Melinda could feel the weight of reality pressing down. Would they truly nurture their relationship, or would it wither like forgotten weeds?
As the night drew on, they climbed the stairs to their Master Bedroom, the opulent surroundings somehow emphasizing their unfamiliarity. Cedric paused in the doorway, turning to her. “Let’s talk about our expectations, shall we?”
Melinda nodded, her heart racing yet again. From her perspective, they stood at a crossroads—an opportunity to define what their future together could hold. “I think… I think we should be honest,” she ventured, and as she spoke the words, she felt the air shift, a breath of vulnerability filling the space between them.
Their first night together passed not just as a mere conclusion of the day but as an unfolding chapter in their lives. They would navigate the intricacies of a partnership built not on a foundation of fiery passion but rather on trust and understanding.
And just like that, Lady Melinda and Sir Cedric began their journey into the unexpected adventures of marriage—a path that led through laughter, tears, and countless lessons yet to come.

Chapter 2

For the past half hour, Lord Victor Jamison had been curled up on a couch at The Velvet Lounge, his eyes reddened and weary, a picture of dejection. Any negative word you could think of—despondent, discouraged, frustrated—could be applied to him. Lady Eleanor Whitcroft watched her troubled son with a softening heart, but she quickly realized that this was a problem beyond her control; it lay between Lord Victor and that person.
She contemplated for a moment before taking a seat beside Lord Victor, gently prompting, “What’s wrong this time?”
“I want a divorce…” Lord Victor lifted his head, his eyes brimming with tears, and his voice trembling with emotion. “This time, I really want a divorce!” Before he could finish, his voice caught in his throat, and Lady Eleanor instinctively pulled him into her arms, soothing him like a weary kitten, stroking his back gently.
Time passed, and Lord Victor remained nestled in her embrace, like a young child, finally crying himself to sleep from exhaustion.
At just over twenty years old, he was still essentially a kid. Lady Eleanor had never opposed Lord Victor’s marriage; rather, she had thought him too young at the time. But when he insisted on marrying, she, always indulgent, had ultimately relented.
Now, she found it perplexing to understand whether his marriage was a mistake or not. One thing she was sure of: no one had forced him into it—this was a choice Lord Victor made, and the repercussions were solely his to bear. All she could do was offer comfort; beyond that, she felt helpless.
“What happened this time?” Lady Margaret Jamison emerged from The Study, her brow furrowed.
“They had a fight,” Lady Eleanor responded, her voice lowered.
Lady Margaret's expression tightened even more.
The roots of this marriage dated back to a drunken evening at a party when Lady Margaret's friend, also intoxicated, thought Lord Victor quite charming. Given that her own son was openly gay, the friend jokingly proposed a betrothal, and in a lapse of judgment, Lady Margaret drunkenly agreed, making Lord Victor an unofficial fiancé at the age of three.
It had been merely a verbal agreement, lacking any legal binding. After learning of this, Lord Victor shifted from an extreme repulsion to a surprising eagerness to see the marriage happen, a transformation that baffled Lady Margaret. Even now, she couldn't comprehend what had led them here.
“If he wants a divorce, he can start the paperwork whenever he wants,” Lady Margaret remarked casually. “If he’s unwilling, then there’s no need to force the marriage.”
“So he’s just saying it for show,” Lady Eleanor sighed. “After their fights, Lord Victor always comes home talking about divorce, but he never truly commits to it.” What did that even mean? They had their fair share of arguments, but that person always came back a few days later to reconcile, and Lord Victor always lowered his defenses, returning to normal. It was a pattern that seemed unwavering at this point.
Lady Eleanor looked down at her son’s damp cheek resting against her. She couldn’t help but wonder: what could have compelled him to agree to that person’s proposal in haste while keeping the reasons to himself? Why did he only begin to bring up divorce after they were married?
It remained a puzzle she could not solve.

Chapter 3

The alarm clock pierced through the morning silence.
Lord Victor Jamison blinked blearily, struggling to lift his hand to turn off the obnoxious ringing. He felt like he was still half-asleep. After lying in bed for a few more moments, he realized he would be late for school if he didn’t get moving, and with a heavy heart, he finally sat up, brushed his teeth, and changed out of his pajamas into his uniform.
He attended a prestigious private academy with strict rules. Being late often resulted in punishment; though the school had abolished corporal punishment, students could find themselves spending their lunch breaks cleaning classrooms or pulling weeds from the flower beds as a consequence for breaking the rules.
With a slow gait, Lord Victor made his way downstairs. His two fathers were already seated at the table—one reading the newspaper while the other sipped his coffee. As he took his seat, a wave of sadness washed over him at the realization that the delightful winter break was officially over.
“What's wrong? You look so down,” Lady Eleanor Whitcroft said with a teasing smile, pinching his cheek.
“Don’t do that... it hurts,” he mumbled in protest.
Lady Eleanor withdrew her hand and urged him, “Hurry up and eat breakfast, or you’ll be late for school.”
Lady Margaret Jamison glanced over but said nothing, quickly returning her gaze to the newspaper.
Long before Lord Victor was born, the country had passed a progressive marriage law that didn’t strictly define marriage as between one man and one woman, thereby effectively legalizing same-sex marriage. His two fathers had married back then, and although they couldn’t have children in the traditional sense, advancements in technology allowed same-sex couples to have kids that bore a mix of both their lineages. Lord Victor was born during that remarkable time.
“Hey, young Victor,” Lady Eleanor said.
“Yeah?” he replied, his mouth full of bacon.
“Make sure to come home early after school; I have something important to discuss with you,” she added, her tone suddenly serious.
A bit confused, Lord Victor nodded, quickly finishing his breakfast before saying goodbye to his parents and rushing out the door.
Their home wasn’t far from the subway station—about a five-minute walk. With the subway ride and the ten minutes it took to walk to school, he finally made it to his classroom just before the bell rang. He discreetly scanned the room, his heart sinking when he didn’t spot the familiar figure he was hoping to see.
“What are you looking for?” a voice chimed from behind. “He hasn’t come in yet; he’ll probably be late.”
Lord Victor turned to find his childhood friend, Lord Henry Worthington, standing in the doorway. Trying to play coy despite being caught, he stammered, “I’m not looking for anyone…”
But under Lord Henry’s teasing gaze, his voice trailed off.
Having grown up together, Lord Henry could easily detect Victor's unease. With a knowing smile, he pulled Victor toward a corner of the classroom. Since it was the start of a new semester, the seating arrangement hadn’t been established yet, so they naturally chose a spot at the back by the window.
“Are you really oblivious to your own crush?” Lord Henry said, shaking his head. “The way you were glancing around earlier made it obvious to everyone.”
Lord Victor averted his gaze, attempting to maintain his composure, though he felt stiff and awkward.
“Well, I can’t fault you completely; you’re just a fool,” Lord Henry teased, his lips curling into a smirk.
“I’m not that foolish,” Lord Victor retorted, snapping back, “Besides, what do you mean? I’m technically your elder. You should show some respect for your elders!”
Lord Henry raised an eyebrow, “You mean I should honor you? We’re practically the same age, and I was born before you. The only reason you’re considered my elder is that we’re related far enough back that it’s legal for us to marry; did you know that?”
“I’m definitely not marrying you,” Lord Victor huffed, crossing his arms in defiance.
Lord Henry only laughed at his indignation.

Chapter 4

Victor Jamison and Henry Worthington continued their idle chatter for a while, but their conversation was cut short when the school bell rang. The sound echoed through the halls as a boy rushed in through the back door of their classroom, hastily taking a seat and gulping down water, his breathing uneven from the sprint.
Lord Victor Jamison did his best to maintain a calm façade, but the quickened rhythm of his heart betrayed the turmoil inside.
He first laid eyes on Sir Arthur Grey during their freshman year of high school. They weren’t in the same class back then, but they had played basketball together. When they moved up to sophomore year, the school had reorganized classes based on their academic tracks—one for humanities and another for sciences—resulting in them becoming classmates. Despite the opportunity to interact, a whole semester passed without Victor having a single private conversation with Arthur. He often found himself watching from a distance, drawing teasing remarks from Lord Henry Worthington, who called him a coward.
Truth be told, Victor was unsure why he felt so drawn to Arthur. Perhaps it was the way his slightly sharp canine teeth showed when he smiled, or the melodic quality of his laughter. His reason couldn’t be clearly formed, and he understood that a crush is often one-sided. Yet, he still found himself preoccupied with thoughts of Arthur, never considering confessing his feelings.
“Stop staring,” Henry elbowed him lightly from behind. “You’re going to get caught.”
Startled, Victor turned to see that a few girls were indeed glancing in his direction. Feeling embarrassed, he quickly ducked his head and pretended to rearrange his desk, his mind simmering with frustration. He was never the type to hide his emotions; his thoughts were practically written all over his face. He had longed to change that trait, but whenever he was around Arthur, the control he managed to muster always slipped away.
On the first day of school, following the usual welcoming ceremony where textbooks were distributed, their teacher had given a few motivating words encouraging students to work hard before releasing them for the day just before noon.
Victor was just busy packing his bag, preparing to leave when he heard Henry casually ask, “Want to grab some ramen?”
“No thanks, I’m not really in the mood,” Victor replied honestly. The weather was uncomfortably warm, and he found it hard to muster any appetite for the steaming bowl of noodles.
“Oh really?” Henry responded, unimpressed. “But Sir Arthur Grey will be there.”
Victor froze, turning back to him in surprise. “What?”
“That new ramen place just opened up, and a bunch of the guys are going,” Henry said nonchalantly. “But if you’re not interested, I’ll just go by myself.”
Victor quickly reached out, grasping Henry’s sleeve. “Wait a second.”
“What’s up?” Henry wore a mischievous grin.
“I…” Victor stumbled for words, but he collected himself, affirmatively concluding, “I’ll go too.”
Just ten minutes later, the group emerged from the school’s gates. Victor and Henry lagged at the back, with Arthur up ahead, engaged in conversation, flashing his playful smile sporadically. Victor felt somewhat dazed, slow to respond to the chatter around him. Thankfully, Henry easily picked up the slack in conversation, ensuring no one realized that Victor was distracted.
Upon reaching the ramen shop, they found it was relatively empty due to the early hour, and the staff led them to a cozy corner table. Victor settled down next to Henry, only for his heart to leap as someone else took the seat beside him. He turned slightly, momentarily speechless.
Sitting next to him was none other than Arthur Grey.
“They didn’t have enough room over there, so I figured I’d join you guys,” Arthur smiled at him. “Hope that’s alright?”
Victor quickly shook his head, trying to muster a response but feeling too flustered to manage even a single word.
Noticing Victor’s predicament, Henry jumped in smoothly to save the awkward moment, “I heard you started dating the prom queen over winter break.”
“How did you know that?” Arthur laughed, a genuine sound that made Victor’s heart race even more.
Shocked, Victor was just coming to grips with the revelation when Arthur continued, “But we only dated for a week before it ended.”

Chapter 5

“Why?” Lord Victor Jamison asked instinctively, only to realize afterward that perhaps he shouldn’t have been so direct.
Sir Oliver Reed maintained his usual cheerful demeanor but seemed a little lackluster in his response. “Her personality is a bit demanding, and I didn’t want to keep appeasing her, so we broke up after a few days. We both felt it wasn’t a good match anyway, so it didn’t make sense to stick around.”
“Is that so…” Victor said, feeling a weight lift off his chest.
The arrival of steaming bowls of ramen and an assortment of side dishes interrupted their conversation. Victor, distracted, slurped his noodles, and while attempting to grab a piece of Japanese fried chicken, he clumsily dropped it straight into the bowl, splattering broth onto Sir Oliver's uniform sleeve. In a fluster, he quickly grabbed a napkin to clean it off.
“I’m so sorry…” Victor stammered, flustered. “That was totally my fault.”
Sir Oliver raised an eyebrow but shrugged it off with a smile. “No problem, don’t worry about it.” Then he reached out and clasped Victor's hand. Victor froze for a moment, surprised by the warmth of the touch. As Oliver pulled his hand back, casually removing the soup-stained jacket, Victor found himself lost in thought, replaying the brief moment of contact.
“Are you okay?” Sir Oliver asked.
Victor shook his head, tensing up, trying to regain his composure. "It's nothing." A realization struck him suddenly, and he hurriedly stood up. “I need to use the restroom.”
He rushed from the table and headed into the restroom, locking the door behind him, feeling a mix of humiliation and anxiety.
It was just a fleeting brush against his hand, not even a proper touch, and yet here he was, his body reacting in a way he never expected. Sure, it was typical for a high school boy to feel a rush of emotions in front of someone he liked, but how could he face Sir Oliver again after this? There wasn't a word that could encapsulate the awkwardness he felt.
After a moment, he heard a knock at the door. “Hey, you okay in there?”
It was Lord Henry Worthington’s voice. For some reason, hearing Henry's voice eased his nerves a bit.
Victor suddenly realized Henry must have figured out why he had rushed off. Feeling embarrassed, he called back, “Not yet!”
“Don’t stay in there too long. They’ll start to wonder,” Henry replied casually.
“Yeah,” Victor mumbled. He waited a few more minutes until he was sure his body had calmed down before awkwardly opening the bathroom door. Henry stood there with a scrutinizing gaze.
“You’re really in your head about this, aren’t you?” Henry said, pretending to sigh in exasperation. “You really ought to find yourself a boyfriend already.”
“Can we not?” Victor said, feeling his face flush.
The lunch gathering that day was surprisingly enjoyable. For the entire time, Sir Oliver sat next to him, sharing stories about his winter vacation—like how he had learned to ski while visiting Japan. Although most of Oliver's anecdotes were trivial travel stories, Victor hung onto every word, captivated. By the time lunch ended and everyone was saying their goodbyes, he still felt a twinge of disappointment that it was over.
“See you tomorrow,” Sir Oliver smiled at him as he left.
Victor waved back, grinning like a fool. Once Oliver was out of sight, he shared a look of glee with Lord Henry as they walked toward the train station. At some point, unable to hold it in, Henry broke the silence. “Stop that goofy grin!”
“I’m not smiling!” Victor protested, though it was clear he was still beaming.
When Victor got home, it was around two in the afternoon. To his surprise, despite it not being a holiday, both of his dads were at home. Confused, he recalled that one of them had mentioned needing to talk to him about something and felt a surge of uncertainty.

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