Chapter One

The Happy Couple

"...I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss your beautiful bride!"

Hinata was going to vomit.

Before her sat an accumulative sea of upper echelon elitism. Both the Uchihas and the Hyuugas were attending a union forged by business, politics, and money: her wedding. She shouldn't have drank so much. She was almost certain she was going to soil her husband's expensive looking tuxedo.

In that nauseating instant Sasuke Uchiha was lowering his pale lips to hers and she stiffly accepted the gesture. Cold, wet steel. There was no love. No emotion behind it. It was very obviously just a formality. He touched her face and she nearly flinched backwards. Hinata felt what she suspected was bile rise to her throat, and suddenly, the urge to sob nearly overwhelmed her. Tears forced themselves into the corners of her eyes.

I don't want this.

Sasuke withdrew. Hinata swallowed, managing to give him a withered, painful smile. He simply stared at her with unresponsive gray eyes. It felt as if he was boring a hole into her soul. As if he was filing through every one of her morbidly depressing thoughts.

"So sweet!"

"Look at her, she's so happy!"

Hinata choked. "Sorry..."

I can't do this.

Sasuke Uchiha, now her husband in every sense of the word, weaved his cold fingers with hers and guided her down the isle. Clapping and cheering accompanied them every step of the way. How she managed to walk as gracefully as she did was beyond her...but the next thing she knew, things had gone blissfully quiet, and she was bowing into a toilet bowl and emptying the contents of her stomach, tears streaming down her eerily bright eyes.

Once she was quite finished, Hinata slumped in a pile of wedding dress with her back against the bathroom wall.

This entire thing was a mistake. It was a huge mistake, and she should have never allowed her father to manipulate her into marrying a man that she didn't know. Hyuuga empire be damned—no one ever asked what she wanted, did they? She was always trying to please everyone, always making sure she wasn't bothering anyone, always allowing other people's expectations of her become her own. She was so pathetic, wasn't she? And now...now she'd never have to opportunity to be with the man that she truly loved.

The bathroom door cracked open and the sight of who was now her husband made her feel nauseated all over again.

"Get up." He commanded coolly. She whimpered as he wrenched her up by her elbow, shut the door behind him, and forced her clumsily over to the sink. "Clean yourself up."

Hinata stared at him through the mirror. He looked...utterly stoic, and that made her want to cry even more. The way he looked at her...who would want to marry an emotionless person like that? Hinata shakily fiddled with the faucet as she observed herself. She looked like a corpse of a bride. Her eyeliner and mascara were running two miserable trails down her cheeks, and her lipstick was smeared in a horrid fashion across her cheek. She took several minutes to repair the damage. All the while, Sasuke stood with his back against the wall, arms folded, not one emotion flaring into his eyes as he watched her.

She took the liberty to face him once she was fresh-faced and presentable. "Please..." She whimpered, her voice frustratingly fragile, "P-please don't...p-please d-don't touch me that way again."

They stared each other down. Sasuke's eyes narrowed, then softened, if only minimally. He gave her his back as he opened the door and stepped out. Hinata followed, automatically taking his arm and allowing him to lead.

Honeymoons weren't supposed to be like this. They were supposed to be momentous occasions, overflowing with a potpourri of joy, passion, and sensuality...but no, as she sat across from Sasuke, their limousine shambling along to the private Uchiha airport, she could only feel something dreadfully opposite.

Some silly mellow music was playing overhead. It was beginning to give her a headache. Sasuke hastily tore off his bowtie and loosened his collar. Even in the bleak limousine lighting, Hinata could not deny how attractive he was with his perfect, brooding features, dark hair, and unrepentant eyes. Classic Uchiha. But it didn't matter. She longed for something lighter. Something happier. Someone far different.

The ride was silent and miserable. Not a word was exchanged between the newly wed couple. Not a complaint, not an angry exchange, not an attempt to break the ice which had molded into glacial proportions-not even when they switched transport and boarded the private jet. They were heading to a huge tropical resort off the coast. Unfortunately, Hinata was not very familiar with the location. All she knew was that the Uchiha family was paying for the bulk of the wedding package.

One family of wealth wedding into another. Due to the sheer mediocrity of her existence, her father had decided that the best way for her to elevate would be to marry. Hinata was not just to marry anyone, oh no. She was to marry into a prestigious family, and who better a candidate than Sasuke Uchiha? Up until the moment she walked down the isle she'd never seen this man in person. She'd only heard from him from her father. From television. From the tabloids and the internet.

Sasuke Uchiha, most eligible bachelor. Sasuke Uchiha, young, rich, and beautiful. Total sex bomb. Unmatched prodigy. Who is he dating now? How is he in bed? What did he eat for breakfast yesterday?

Besides gossip, Sasuke Uchiha had managed to be an elusive entity in terms of who he was. She herself was nothing to brag about, and her only claim to fame was her family's undulating wealth. She'd only agreed to this entire thing to make her father happy. If she couldn't be business savvy, she could at least be a beautiful well behaved wife.

The couple landed, disembarked, and made their way to their next mode of transport. The island that greeted them was magnificent—surreal even, with low leaning palm trees, strips of long white beaches with lapping teal waves, and a warm sun. Brilliant green and black mountains rose in the distance to touch the paper thin clouds. The air smelled of earth, sea, and perhaps even of fruit. Most of all, however, it lacked the choking odor of exhaust fumes that so clouded the Konoha city air.

This island would have been even more lovely had she been there with someone that she loved. Sasuke made it very apparent that he wasn't that person. They made their way to their private car without, unsurprisingly, exchanging a word, and headed to their resort.

It was not a disappointment. The location that they were to be staying at was resplendent in island glamour and beauty, almost stereotypically so, with bushels of flowered bushes and palm trees occupying every possible space.

They were escorted and checked into their apartment of a room and once again they were completely alone.

Hinata stared up at the back of his head. He was standing a few feet away, his hands shoved into his pockets. She wanted to say something. Anything. But her mind was strangely blank; tongue devoid of coherent speech. Fortunately enough, she didn't have to. Her husband disappeared into their bathroom, emerging moments later wearing something far more casual. He then left her in their hotel suite, shutting the door quietly behind him. Her left her standing there and feeling quite sorry for herself.

Hinata showered.

She showered until the hot watered turned her pale, doll-like skin raw. She wasn't sure how long she showered. It may have been hours. By the time she made her way back into the bedroom, night time had darkened it. She hardly cared to go sight-seeing. Hinata instead changed into a modest pair of pajamas and crawled into bed. She immediately fell into a numbing, amnesia inducing slumber...

...only to be awakened god knows when by the terrifying feeling of someone crawling into her bed. In the darkness, she saw a shambling male silhouette slump onto the mattress. There was a slight sigh, a groan, and then a gush of air as the blankets were peeled up a bit. Then she felt a warm leg bump into hers and a hand touch her thigh.

Even though the body parts retracted the moment they made contact, sleep addled Hinata panicked. She knew it was Sasuke, and only one thought occurred to her. Of course. It was their honeymoon. He wanted to...he was making a move on her, wasn't he? No. Goodness, no!

"I won't be doing this with you." Her voice hardly held the stark conviction of a woman who was adamant about preserving her dignity. She sounded small, her lips quivering, her eyes wide as she clutched the blankets to her silently heaving bosom.

"Doing what, exactly?" His voice was a razor thin, sharp as ice, unforgiving. Hinata retracted, surprised. He sounded...angered. Offended, even?

"I...I-I thought y-you wanted-"

"-to fuck you?" His voice was louder. Sharper. And if she wasn't mistaken, she smelled a hint of alcohol. "Don't flatter yourself, Hyuuga."

And just like that, Sasuke turned over, scooting over as close to the edge of the bed as possible, leaving her to rationalize a potent torrent of astonishment and relief. Hinata turned onto her back and blushed. Was it really so presumptuous to...? Oh, god. Her throat felt dry and drawn and she could not muster the gall to apologize. Hinata only stared into the darkness, sweaty palms clutching her blankets.

Not once had she pondered how difficult this must be for him. She'd only drawn herself as the victim, and Sasuke as a massive, grasping monster, who was hellbent on destroying her livelihood. No, she thought as she turned her head to contemplate his blanketed back, he was just as miserable as she was.

"I'm...so s-sorry. I d-didn't mean to offend you. I was just trying to..." Hinata trailed off. She sounded even weaker than she had before and wasn't entirely sure he'd even heard her. Hinata swallowed against an ever dry throat and waited for a response. When none came, she closed her eyes, and attempted to fall asleep in the tumultuous silence.

The next morning, Hinata woke in the same position she'd fallen asleep in. Her fingers had drawn the blankets up to her chest and she was as stiff as a board. Shards of copper sunlight split through the blinds, spilling across the room, dancing over the adjacent walls.

A meek side glance confirmed that Sasuke was not, in fact, in bed. The telltale hiss of shower water clued his whereabouts. Hinata took the opportunity to sit up, her hands grasping at her tired eyes as she struggled to forget the events of the night before. It occurred to her that she hadn't eaten since the morning before, and she was quite hungry. Breakfast would do well in easing her anxiety.

Telling herself that she'd wash once she had food on her stomach, Hinata put on cheery, conservative ensemble. Just as she was slipping on her shoes, Sasuke emerged from the bathroom, accompanied by a steaming fog and the smell of some masculine body wash that made her breathe too deeply. He didn't make much of an effort to secure the towel around his waist. It was grasping at his hips precariously, and yet he looked utterly bored as he trailed over to the iron and plugged it into the wall.

Hinata did her best not to stare at his naked upper half. But goodness, he certainly was cut, the muscles on his back smooth, carved, and perfectly symmetrical. She shook her head furiously as the blush crept across her cheeks.

"I'm going to get breakfast." She said quietly. She finished putting on her shoes and stood, her hands clutched in front of her. "Would you like for me t-"

"I've already eaten." Sasuke didn't look at her as he spoke. He set up the ironing board and withdrew some clothing from his suitcase.

"Oh." Hinata fidgeted, clutched her elbow in an unconscious motion. "About last night...I really just want to apologize. I feel really silly after-"

"I've reserved you a separate room for the rest of your stay. You may as well start gathering your things. Someone will be coming shortly to help you move."

Her eyes shot upward. "...what? S-sorry, I think I misheard you."

Sasuke only met her gaze briefly as he ironed. "I reserved a room for you. You're staying there for the rest of our time here."

"B-but...b-but we're married. You c-can't just—what will everyone think?"

Sasuke didn't answer, merely continued ironing his shirt. Once he was done with that, he pulled a pair of pants, shook them out, and laid one leg of them on the ironing board. Hinata frowned. Why was she being so defensive about this? She didn't want to be married to him the first place. It made perfect sense to have a separate room, especially since she wasn't comfortable sleeping in the same bed with him. Just as she was about to speak again, there was a knock at the door, and a light proclamation of room service.

"Y-you're really-"

"Come in."

The door handle jiggled hesitantly, and in walked an unnaturally happy looking bellboy with a trolly behind him.

"Good morning!" He chirped, "Are you ready to transfer your things, Mrs. Uchiha? Per Mr. Uchiha's request, we have located the next best suite for you in the hotel!"

Hinata looked from Sasuke to the bellboy who, oddly enough, didn't appear offended by the other male's lack of proper dress. She wanted to say something. Anything. Why did he do this without her permission? Shouldn't he have asked first? Certainly she would have agreed, but it was the principle behind it. Hinata was a grown woman, and he should have respected her for being capable enough to make her own decisions...right?

After a while, Hinata simply nodded quietly and began packing her things in a rather unhurried pace. Sasuke was silent the entire time. He eventually trailed into the bathroom to change into his clothing for the day. Once she was finished, the bellboy placed her bags onto the trolly, and she solemnly followed him out of the room, allowing him to lead her to her new one.

Her new room was certainly nice enough. Just like the one before it, it appeared to be a small house, elegantly designed and outfitted with a kitchenette and living area. When the bellboy made sure she was properly accommodated, Hinata finished unpacking her things, and trailed over towards the sliding balcony doors on the far side of the living area. Outside she could see the picturesque rippling blue sea and brilliant, white sand. People ran along the beach, paddled in the tropical waters, held on for dear life as they para-sailed or water skiied. Yet all of this felt strangely foreign. Ignoring the allure, she drew the blinds shut, headed to her room, and threw herself onto the bed. At some point she felt herself begin to cry.