Tied by Love: A Fiery Courtship

In the city of Chicago, as the evening sky donned a cloak of twilight, Anastasia Steele was in the midst of handling a particularly challenging case. The female corpse before her was unrecognizable, her features melded into a gruesome mess, her body bloated like a balloon, and her skin wrinkled like a dried leaf. Anastasia, feeling overwhelmed, discarded her tweezers and rubber gloves, stepping out into the hallway to take the call from her mother, Scarlett OHara.

"Mom..." Anastasia began, her voice trailing off as she braced herself for the conversation.

"Honey, your father and I have a ballroom dance event tonight in the West Side, so youll have to fend for yourself for dinner," Scarletts saccharine voice floated through the phone, a tone Anastasia had heard for nearly thirty years and yet still found jarring.

"Alright, be safe on the road," Anastasia replied, trying to keep the conversation short.

"Actually, you dont have to worry about dinner... Ive already made arrangements for you," Scarlett continued, her voice taking on a tone of playful innocence that Anastasia knew all too well.

"No, no, no," Anastasia interjected quickly, "I really, really want to handle dinner on my own."

"But Ive already set up a date for you at that new French restaurant near our home. I heard hes studied in France, and I thought it would be perfect for you!" Scarletts excitement was palpable, despite Anastasias lack of enthusiasm for what must have been her 105th blind date.

"Fine, send me his picture and name later," Anastasia conceded, knowing there was no way out of it.

At home, Anastasia was at the bottom of the family hierarchy, a fact she was all too aware of. When she first started working and thought she could move out on her own, one frown from her brother, a pout from her mother, and a gentle cough from her father, and she found herself staying put without another word.

After hanging up, Anastasia sighed and returned to her workspace. As she reached the door, the lights suddenly went out, and a strong smell of alcohol assaulted her senses. Before she could react, she was pushed against the door, and a mans body pressed against hers. His lips found hers, and he forcefully fed her a sip of the harsh, cold liquor, which burned a path down her throat and into her stomach.

Her tolerance for alcohol was minimal, and she could already feel the heat rising in her cheeks as her vision began to blur. "Who are you? Let me go, or Ill call the police!" Anastasia tried to kick the man with her left foot, but he didnt even grunt in pain, instead, his kisses became more aggressive.

What was happening? Where had this man come from, and how much had he had to drink? Before she could ponder these questions, the man was already sweeping her off her feet, carrying her to a nearby five-star hotel in Chicago.

When Anastasia woke up, she was in the presidential suite of a five-star hotel. Her body ached, and beside her lay the sleeping form of a man with a stern yet handsome face. His eyebrows were thick, his nose was prominent, and his lips were thin. His skin was as smooth as white jade, marred only by a small, unremarkable mole just below his right eye. He seemed to be having a restless sleep, his brows furrowed in a frown.

Anastasia bit her lip, recalling the night before. Although she was no stranger to such encounters, she had remained chaste for the past five years. Yet, here she was, in a hotel room with a man she didnt know, who had taken advantage of her in the morgue...

She studied his face for a while, committing his features to memory before quietly getting up to take a shower and get dressed. As she prepared to leave, treating the night as a fleeting affair, her phone, which had died during the night, came back to life. She quickly checked her messages, realizing she had completely forgotten about her blind date from the previous night.

Sure enough, her mother had sent her a message with the contact information and photo of her blind date. Anastasia opened the message, and there he was, the same man from last night.

"Edward Cullen..." she whispered his name, saving his number and adding him on social media, where his profile picture was a silhouette of a womans back, and his username was a simple capital S.

She changed his contact name to Love and hesitated for a moment before sending him a message. She didnt know what to say, feeling a bit uneasy about his profile picture and curious about the woman from last night, but she didnt know if she had the right to ask.

As she tossed and turned in bed, her phone indicated that he was typing a message. After a few moments, his message arrived, simple and to the point: "Get some rest."

Anastasia wished him goodnight and prepared for bed, her mind filled with thoughts of her future married life. It was only at sunrise that she finally drifted off to sleep.

The next day, at the county office, they were the only couple there to register their marriage. The clerk, an older woman, looked at Edward several times and chatted with Anastasia, "Youre a lucky girl. Your husband seems like a caring man. How did you two meet?"

Before Anastasia could fabricate a story of a long-lasting love, Edward took the forms from her hand and handed them to the clerk, then grabbed her right hand and said, "We met through a matchmaker. I saw that she could cook and take care of people, perfect to be a wife, so I pursued her."

Anastasia was startled by his sudden action, but the warmth of his hand soothed her unease. She subtly changed the position of her palm and held his hand back.

"Indeed, you two look perfect together. My son doesnt have your luck. Well, heres to a hundred years of harmony and many children," the clerk said as she stamped their marriage certificates and handed them over. "Happy marriage!"

Anastasia held the marriage certificate, staring at their intertwined heads, lost in thought. She was married now.

Edward calmly thanked the clerk and led Anastasia out of the office. "I have a meeting in A city this afternoon," he said, taking out a set of keys from his pocket. "Ill send you the address later. You can stay in any room, but please dont enter my master bedroom or my study."

"What?" Anastasia was confused. "We wont sleep together?"

Edward adjusted his glasses, a polite smile on his lips as he said, "I thought you understood. I needed to get married, and you needed to as well. I sleep lightly and am not used to having someone beside me. If there are physical needs, we can visit each others rooms and return to our own after."

If it werent for the potential job transfer in the city... a married image would be better than being single, he wouldnt have considered marrying her.

"If... if you had married the girl in your profile picture, would you treat her like this..." Anastasia couldnt help but ask.

"Shes dead. You were the one who prepared her for the funeral," Edward said casually, as if discussing something unrelated to him.

"If you dont like it, you dont have to move in. But my job might sometimes require you to attend social events with me. I hope you can go and maintain a proper appearance and smile."

Anastasia looked at the man who had become her husband, a hint of regret creeping into her heart. She could accept that her husband didnt love her yet, as they had a lifetime together.

But she couldnt accept that there was someone in his heart, someone who was already dead. Because she knew that the dead are always sealed in the hearts of the living in the most perfect form, and no one can replace them.

Seeing Anastasias silence, Edward checked his watch, made a phone call, and soon a driver pulled up in front of them.

"Goodbye," he said politely and distantly, and got into the car without another word, leaving Anastasia standing there, her hand still trembling slightly from his touch.

She felt strange. She wasnt in love with him, nor was she dependent on him, but when he spoke of their marriage so lightly and objectively, she felt as if each word was a thumbtack, gently pressing into her heart.

In fact, she still had expectations for him, for their marriage...