"As much as I like this," River eventually said after minutes of silence, still holding her in his arms, "we can't keep sitting here forever." Time was running out, and a quick glance at his watch made him aware of how much had passed.

"I know," she said, sighing. She wiped away her tears and looked to the side, where she caught herself in the mirror. "Oh no..." She wiped her hands dry with a lost tissue on the bed and stared at her reflection. "And Laurel worked so hard on this!"

River guessed it was the makeup she was talking about and had to admit it wasn't looking the best anymore with her red skin showing and splotches of eyeshadow spread across her face.

"Don't worry about it," he said, mostly to keep her from stressing out. "I'm sure Laurel can fix it."

She didn't seem to listen as she stroke her dress to get some wrinkles out and stood up from the bed. "I'm sorry for dumping all of this on you," she said. "I'm a bit wacky today."

The corners of his mouth had a slight curl to them. "That's understandable," he said.

"This is just..." she continued, but she seemed to have trouble expressing her emotions through words without crying. Her head turned towards the window and she stared outside at the flying geese in the distance. "This is not how I imagined my wedding to be."

A wedding day was about finding the right guy, having an amazing day and feeling pretty while surrounded the ones you love. Wasn't that what everyone said? And when Emily had dreamt about her big day, she had envisioned that—not a guy she met in February messing with her head.

"I'm sorry," River felt obliged to say.

"It's my fault too," she said. She sat down in the chair before the mirror, but, unlike what River expected her to do, she didn't pick up one of the many tools on the table in front of her. Instead, she sat without moving and just stared at her reflection. Because of that, he remained frozen in his place too.

He felt guilty. It was because of him that she felt this way; he'd ruined everything. What was supposed to be a beautiful day had become a day of worry.

"Should I leave?" he asked quietly.

She shook her head.

"Can I help with anything?" he asked then.

She shook her head again.

He felt like a burden and just standing there wasn't helping, but he didn't seem to have any other solution. Silence reigned in the room while they both didn't know what to do.

"Do you want to see them?" she whispered then, interrupting silence.

"See what?" he asked.

"My wrists."

The scars?

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice trembling.

She nodded. "I am." She turned in her chair and faced him now.

"You don't have to if you don't want to." It seemed too personal, something he was not comfortable with.

She was whispering when she said, "But I want to."

He took a step closer, realizing what a big gesture it was of her. It couldn't be easy for her; how many people had she shown her scars? He could imagine it being difficult to be confronted by the past every time she saw those marks on her body, but it would become harder when other people asked her about it.

Although he hesitated, he took another step closer and she held out her arms to him with her wrists faced upwards, showing the thin white lines on her skin. They went all the way around, except in the place where the sides of her wrists were facing each other when the palms were directed at the floor.

"How did you get them?" he asked quietly. It must be from her kidnapping, he knew that much, but how did she end up with these wounds?

"When my hands were tied together," she said. Her eyes were focused on her wrists and she didn't seem to notice River's discomfort—or his question. She just talked. "They used either duct tape or tie wraps and got us new ones every once in a while to replace the old ones."

She used 'they', he noticed, to avoid saying the word 'kidnappers' aloud.

"In the beginning my hands were tied together with ropes," she continued. "They were so tight, which is why my hands are always so light compared to the rest of my body. Blood can't flow as easily anymore. It's also where these lines came from." She traced somewhat bigger lines across her wrists.

In that moment, it became real. Her kidnapping wasn't just a story he had come across on the internet or something the girl from the San Francisco Chronicle wrote about as part of her job for other people's entertainment—it was her life. This had been her truth for three years, and these scars were her proof and daily reminder.

"That's why the lines stop here too," she said, pointing at the right side of her left wrist and the mirrored side from her right wrist. "The ropes didn't touch my skin in those places."

It felt wrong to watch the lines so closely, but he couldn't help being mesmerized by the scars that were so neatly placed but had such a horrifying story. He followed the lines around her wrist with his eyes and also noticed the light skin of her hands she'd talked about. The rest of her body was darker.

"These cuts were from the tie wraps," she said, even though he didn't want her to continue. The stories were terrifying and he didn't want to imagine her having to go through this, but at the same time didn't want to seem disrespectful to her past. He understood it was more difficult for her to tell this than for him to hear it. "The plastic cut my skin open, and when it finally healed, the wounds opened again. It was an endless cycle that eventually had me end up here with these scars."

He shook his head in disbelief. "Emily..."

"Too detailed?" she asked. Her eyes shot up to look at him, afraid she'd scared him with her stories.

"No, just..." He shook his head again. "It's so real."

Although the situation far from asked for it, she chuckled at his comment.

"That sounded wrong, didn't it?" he asked. "I meant I hadn't expected... this. As in, your full story." He didn't know she trusted him enough to know all of this.

"I'm dumping my mess on you again, aren't I?" she asked. "It's hard to think straight."

"Don't worry about it," he said.

"It's just..." she said. "I never asked for this." She threw her hands up in the air and immediately let them fall to her side. "This life, this castle, the drama."

She didn't want this? That was news to him. He'd assumed she'd chosen to be here since this was her wedding.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

She looked up at the ceiling. "The press is here, do you know that?"

He licked his lips; he sure did. The talk he had had with the girl from the media was hard to forget, just like the people carrying cameras bigger than their head on their shoulders.

"It's so extreme," she said. "Do they have to be here? No. Do I want them here? No. So, why are they?"

"Good question," he said, listening without interrupting her rant too much. She needed someone to vent to and he was a perfect victim; he'd love nothing more than to listen to her all day.

"My parents, that's why," she said. "And Jason's parents. The more media coverage they can get, the better. It's more publicity for their companies—this whole thing is a business deal anyway."

He felt the need to interrupt her here. "What do you mean?" Was she telling him she didn't want to get married?

"It's for money," she said.

The confused look on his face didn't disappear and he only got more interested.

"Jason's parents have a company," she said as if she was explaining this to a child. "My parents have a company. Both companies were in bad weather when we were kidnapped, and when it finally seemed to be going well, Jason and I returned. It was bad for the companies, and they were about to go bankrupt."

"Why was it bad for the companies?" River asked. It felt dumb to ask because Emily acted as if he was supposed to know this, but he wanted to know anyway.

"Our kidnapping took away the trust the shareholders had in both the CEOs of the companies and they were afraid they would let themselves be guided by their emotions too much," she said. "When we returned just in the moment the companies seemed to be doing well, the same issue appeared. The future of the companies was unpredictable while Jason and I were in the picture, so a lot of people asked for their money back."

"That's selfish," River said.

"That's life," Emily said. "Or the way the business works. And then my dad and Jason's dad decided to merge their companies—the names were often called together in the media anyway—but it wasn't enough to win everyone's trust, especially because everyone knew Jason would take over the company."

River had a hard time digesting all of this, but didn't interrupt her while he wondered if this really was what her life in San Francisco was like. All the business stuff was much more serious than he'd imagined it to be.

"Then they came up with this plan," she said. "If Jason and I married, it would ensure trust in the merger and that it would be permanent. It also gives both companies some major publicity when 'two survivors of a kidnapping' get married." She used air quotes while she was talking and it was clear she didn't like to be talked about as just a survivor of a kidnapping like it was all that defined her.

He knew it wasn't what defined her. It was the fact she'd come out stronger that made her this beautiful woman he admired.

"So, it wasn't Jason's idea or yours to get married?" he asked, a little shocked about his conclusion.

She nodded and her voice sounded defeated when she said, "It's all just a business deal."

And no one would care about the wedding a week from now when the media stopped reporting, but Jason and Emily would have to spend the rest of their lives together.

"And you don't want to marry him?" he asked her.

She hesitated. "He's nice," she said, thinking out loud. "And I wouldn't be here, alive, without him—but no, if I had a choice, I wouldn't marry him."

"What about him?" River asked then. He noticed his voice got higher in excitement, but tried to hide his hope. He couldn't imagine what this was like for Emily, having to marry someone and another guy hoping the wedding would be canceled. However, his hope only grew more while the conversation went on.

"I'm not sure," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "I never asked him."

He got up from his squat hold. "Maybe this is none of my business..." he began.

"But?" She looked up at him, her eyes wide and glimmering more than they had before. He knew she still had hope of this being a good day, too. All possibilities were open now that she'd let the truth out.

"I think you need to talk to Jason."

* * *