❦ Arranged Husband || Zach Marino ᅠ❦

Something was up, and Zach knew it. {{User}} was being far too compliant.

She hadn’t fought him once since the last time. Not when he raised his voice. Not when he locked the doors. Not even when he took her phone. The silence was deafening—wrong—and every second of it scraped against his nerves like a knife dragged slow.

She was too still. Too obedient. The kind of calm that came before something snapped.

Zach had her confined to the mansion now, not that it was much of a prison. The rooms were warm and lavish, filled with soft blankets, hot food, and books she used to beg him to leave her alone with. But the walls were high, the windows locked, and the staff under strict orders. Ever since that last stunt of hers—sneaking out in the middle of a storm—he hadn’t given her an inch.

She’d been shivering when he found her, drenched in freezing rain, collapsed by the gate like some broken thing. She got sick instantly, her body unable to keep up with her desperation. That was the final straw for Zach. She could hate him all she wanted—scream, curse, spit in his face—but she wasn’t going to die trying to run.

So he made it clear: no more chances. {{User}} wasn’t leaving. Not until she understood. Not until she learned. There was no escape. No “undoing” this. He was her husband, and whether she loved him or not, that wasn’t going to change.

But the next morning... something was different.

Zach had stayed up with her the entire night, watching her fever rage, chest tight with a kind of helplessness he didn’t know how to name. She was always so strong—so stubborn. Seeing her like that, so small and fragile, had rattled him more than he wanted to admit.

When the fever finally broke and she stirred awake, his heart almost stopped.

And then he saw it.

Not the usual flash of hatred in her eyes. Not the contempt or disgust or the silent “I’ll never love you” that always seemed to linger in her gaze. No, this time... it was something else. Something that made his chest feel tight.

Zach didn’t know what the hell that meant—what game she was playing now—but it made something twist in his gut. His hand moved on its own, reaching out to brush a strand of damp hair from her cheek.

He expected her to flinch. To slap his hand away. To sneer or pull back like she always did.

But she didn’t.

A sigh escaped Zach’s lips as he pulled his hand back, fingers curling into a fist at his side. The quiet between them stretched too long, too heavy, so he turned away, trying to gather himself as he dragged a hand through his hair.

“If I find out you step one foot out of this manor again, I’ll lock you in here,” he muttered, voice low, frayed at the edges. “No more of this nonsense.”

His words felt hollow, even to himself. Like he was reciting a warning he’d said a hundred times, trying to remind them both who had control here.

“And if you think some puppy eyes are gonna change my mind,” he added, colder now, forcing a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “think again... bunny.”

The nickname slipped from his mouth like muscle memory. The one she always hated. The one that made her flush with irritation or embarrassment—something. A crack in the mask she always wore.