Flash Marriage: His Hidden Desire

"I just don't think we're a good fit…" I braced myself and brought up divorce just two weeks into our flash marriage. I couldn't take my husband's coldness anymore.

His jaw tightened. He pinned me beneath him, his chest hard against mine, and his voice dropped to a rough gravel. "We haven't even tried.

How would you know we aren't a fit?" Chapter 1 I got married on a whim. The man I flashmarried was a twentynineyearold college professor with a PhD.

He had money, looks, and a stable career. More importantly, he had a house, a car, and no parents to deal with. My mom called him a toptier catch.

Marrying him was basically hitting the jackpot.

Blinded by his ridiculously good looks, I dragged him to get our marriage license after knowing him for two weeks through a blind date. But half a month in, the regret hit hard.

He was like a walking block of ice. Our worlds were so different that we couldn't even keep a conversation going for more than a minute.

He ran on a schedule like a precision machine, while I was used to a reckless, wild nightlife.

On the night we got our license, he took one look at the tampon I left on the bathroom counter, didn't say a single word, grabbed his pillow, and went straight to the guest bedroom.

For the past two weeks, we lived like total strangers sharing a roof. I refused to live like a widow in a sexless marriage anymore.

After a lot of back and forth, I decided to go find Vance and ask for a divorce.

Right when I reached his office door, a young female student beat me to it, knocked, and walked inside. "Why are you closing the door?

Leave it open." Vance's voice clipped through the air, laced with heavy irritation. The girl pulled the door back open, her shoulders drooping.

I stood in the doorway, frozen. "Hey," she sighed, giving me a sympathetic look. "If it's nothing major, you should probably come back another day." I stayed rooted to the spot.

Curiosity prickled at me, mixed with a heavy dose of surprise. "Professor, did you read my paper?

I need your signature in the final review column…" Inside the office, Vance sat behind his desk. He wore a crisp black buttondown shirt that hugged his broad, muscular frame.

The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing the thick veins running down his forearms.

He flipped through a printed thesis, the crease between his brows deepening by the second. "Even if Abraham Lincoln came back from the dead, he wouldn't dare sign his name on this.

I asked for a first draft. Not a rough sketch.

The spelling in your title is perfectly correct, but put together, it's a pile of completely illogical garbage." I stood outside, my brain shortcircuiting.

In the two weeks we had been married, my conversations with Vance could be counted on one hand. I always thought he was just naturally quiet.

I never expected this refined, elegant man to have such a vicious mouth. An educated man tearing someone apart was on a whole other level. He flipped the pages one by one.

The muscles in his jaw ticked. "What is this formatting? Did you invent it yourself?" "Take a wild guess at my mental state reading this part. I feel like your brain is empty.

What exactly are you researching?" "Take my name out of your acknowledgments. Do not try to emotionally blackmail me.

Do you still want to graduate?" The girl stood there, her hands shaking like she was about to burst into tears. God.

The pure trauma of being destroyed over a thesis hit me like a truck. It was impossible not to feel bad for her.

And what shocked me the most was that this man, who normally treated words like gold around me, could rapidfire insults like a machine gun. He slammed the paper down onto his desk.

His dark eyes lifted, slamming straight into mine. A flicker of surprise crossed his face. "Harlow. What are you doing here?" The harsh lines of his face instantly smoothed out.

He walked around his desk, stopped right in front of me, and wrapped his large, warm hand around mine. "Why didn't you come inside?" The student looked at me like I was her personal savior.

Then, a massive wave of gossiphungry curiosity lit up her eyes. I awkwardly raised my free hand and gave a stiff wave.

Vance threw a cold glance at the girl. "My wife." The girl practically vibrated with excitement. "Hi, Mrs. Vance!" "Wow, Professor, you're married… She looks so young.

When did you guys tie the knot?" Vance's gaze turned freezing cold. "If you put this much energy into your studies, your paper wouldn't read like a thirdrate soap opera." The girl flinched. "Sorry for interrupting.

I'm leaving." She scrambled out, leaving just the two of us in the office. We stared at each other.

The air thickened with a weird, heavy awkwardness. "How did you find the time to come by today?" he asked, his voice dropping into a much softer, lower pitch.

My fingers fidgeted against my thigh. This definitely wasn't the right time to drop the Dword. "I was… just passing by," I lied. The corner of his mouth curved up into a smirk.

He reached out, his large palm resting on the top of my head, gently ruffling my hair. "I'm off the clock anyway. Let's go home." Vance was tall, towering over me.

With his razorsharp jawline, deepset eyes, and those goldrimmed glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose, he radiated pure, untouched dominance.

Between that smirk and the heavy weight of his hand in my hair, a crack formed in my resolve. Divorcing a face like that… might actually be a huge loss.

Chapter 2 His hand stayed wrapped around mine as he led me out of his office. We bumped into a few of his colleagues getting off work in the hallway.

He gave them a polite nod, a small smile playing on his lips as he introduced me. "Yes, my wife. That's right, we just got the license.

We'll definitely send out invites for the wedding." Heat rushed to my cheeks. I kept my head down and followed him to his car. The drive was suffocatingly quiet.

For someone who practically breathed words for a living, I couldn't handle the dead air.

I broke the ice first. "So, why are you so brutal to your students?" He pinched the bridge of his nose. "They're idiots." "You weren't that mean when you were tutoring me with my thesis…" Vance had been my dad's student.

I hadn't seen him much growing up, but his name was practically branded into my brain.

The boy genius who skipped multiple grades, the academic prodigy who blew through his Master's and PhD programs, the onceinageneration talent.

My dad had mentored some of the most brilliant minds in the country, but somehow, he raised an academic disaster. I had been a slacker since day one.

I barely scraped by in some noname community college, and after my grad school applications went up in flames, I practically paid my way to a useless degree abroad just to get a diploma.

When my dad read my final thesis back then, his blood pressure spiked so hard he practically gave up and tossed me straight to Vance.

Back then, Vance went through it word by painstaking word, packing an endless amount of patience. Now that he was a professor himself, he had flipped the script.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. His voice dropped. "You're different." He pulled the car over, throwing it into park in front of a pharmacy. "Wait here a second.

I need to grab something." Curiosity nudged at me. "Are you sick?" Did his students actually piss him off so badly that he needed to stock up on aspirin or antianxiety meds?

He didn't answer. He just shot me a look I couldn't read, the dark depths of his eyes completely veiled, before stepping out.

He came back a few minutes later, sliding into the driver's seat. His hands were empty. I didn't see him carrying any bags. The rest of the drive back to our place was silent.

The second we walked through the door, he shrugged off his jacket and headed straight into the kitchen to start cooking. I had to admit, this was one hell of a good habit.

Even though I usually slept in until noon, the fridge was constantly stocked with fresh, homecooked meals every single day. The guy could cook.

Within a short time, he was setting plates down on the dining table. Panseared ribeye steak, creamy mashed potatoes, a fresh Caesar salad, and a rich bowl of clam chowder.

All my absolute favorites.

I buried my face in my food, inhaling the steak while he kept sliding more portions onto my plate. "That's… that's enough," I managed to say, my stomach already stretching to its limit.

He finally put the serving spoon down. "Okay." Another heavy stretch of silence settled over the table. I swallowed a sigh. He really had nothing to say to me.

There was no way I could keep living like this. After dinner, he quietly gathered the empty plates and headed for the sink.

I turned on my heel and walked straight to the master bathroom to take a shower. Thick steam filled the shower.

I kept my eyes closed, letting the hot water hit my skin as I tried to figure out how the hell I was going to bring up the divorce.

When I reached out blindly to grab my towel, my foot hit a slick patch of soap. I slipped. My back slammed hard against the cold ceramic tiles with a heavy, sickening thud.

Sharp, blinding pain exploded through my spine. I sucked in a sharp breath, a loud groan ripping out of my throat. "Harlow?

What happened?" Vance's fist pounded frantically against the bathroom door. The pain was so intense my jaw locked up. I couldn't even form a coherent word. "Harlow, are you okay?

I'm coming in." "I—" Panic shot through me. I was naked. I gritted my teeth against the shooting pain in my back. "I slipped!

Don't—" Before the word could fully leave my mouth, the doorknob turned. He pushed the door wide open and stepped right in. Our eyes locked.

I watched a violent shade of red instantly crawl up his neck and spread across his sharp cheekbones. Heat exploded across my own face.

My hands hovered in the air, completely lost on what parts to cover first. "Vance, you… you…" He quickly realized he was staring, his Adam's apple bobbing sharply as he let out a low cough.

He snatched the large bath towel off the rack, wrapped it tightly around my wet body in one swift motion, and scooped me up into his arms, carrying me straight into the bedroom.

He set me down gently on the edge of the mattress, his dark brows knitted together in deep concern. "Where did you hit?" My fingers gripped the edges of the towel in a death grip, my face burning like a furnace. "My foot." His gaze immediately dropped to my foot.

The second I looked down, a wave of sheer, mortifying embarrassment crashed over me. I wanted the floor to crack open and swallow me whole.

Chapter 3 I must have slipped hard, because the rubber slipper bypassed my foot and wedged itself tight around my ankle. Vance's chest hitched.

He pressed his lips into a hard line, clearly fighting back a laugh. "I bought them a size too big," he cleared his throat. "I'll swap them out for a better fit tomorrow." He wrapped his large hand around the stuck shoe. "Let's get this off first." And just like that, we started a tugofwar.

My skin burned with embarrassment.

I pulled back as hard as I could, but the slipper stayed clamped around my bone. "It's wedged tight." A heavy exhale left his nose. "Harlow, you need to relax.

Point your toes." God. Just let the earth swallow me whole. A few humiliating minutes and a couple of brutal yanks later, the shoe finally popped off.

Vance stayed crouched in front of me, his large thumbs pressing into my foot. "Can you move it?" Dark strands of hair fell across his forehead, his glasses completely shielding the look in his lowered eyes.

Heat flooded my cheeks. I rotated my ankle. "It's fine…" The initial shock had been brutal, but the sharp pain was already fading into a dull ache.

His thumbs kept working the sore muscles in slow, deliberate circles. He tilted his head up, and our eyes locked. Panic and raw awkwardness spiked straight through my chest.

He didn't say a word, and the silence in the room thickened into something heavy and weird. My lungs felt tight.

I sucked in a deep breath and blurted it out. "Vance, maybe we should… get a divorce…" His hands froze.

The temperature in the room plummeted. "Harlow, what did you just say?" I broke eye contact, staring hard at the floor. "I said… divorce…" His massive frame lunged forward, closing the distance.

His jawline tightened, his broad chest rising and falling in harsh, rigid jerks, casting a heavy, suffocating shadow right over me.

His deep eyes pinned me down. "Do you think marriage is a joke to play with?" My fingernails dug deep into my palms. "But we… we're obviously a terrible fit…" "How exactly are we a terrible fit?" "In every single way.

We don't even act like a married couple…" His jaw flexed. He didn't utter another syllable, just turned on his heel and walked out of the bedroom.

I stood frozen in place, my mind wiped clean. Before the static in my head could clear, heavy footsteps marched right back in. He tossed a small, square box onto the mattress.

What the hell? "Vance… what are you doing?" His black shirt was gone. I took one look at his bare, muscular chest and my face practically caught fire.

His voice dropped to a rough, jagged gravel. "We haven't even tried.

How would you know we aren't a fit?" "I—" Cold metal brushed against the bridge of my nose as he leaned in, sending a jolt straight through my burning skin.

He yanked his glasses off and tossed them aside.

Without the frames blocking his face, the sharp angles of his eyes were fully exposed, softening his entire brutal aura into something unexpectedly raw. Fine. Let's try.

With a godtier body like that, I definitely wasn't losing out on this deal. Except, three minutes later.

I lay flat on my back, staring at the ceiling, heavily questioning my entire existence. All that aggressive buildup, and the execution was zero. That was it?

He threw a large hand over his eyes.

The tension radiating off him was pure mortification. "Harlow, that was my first time…" I forced the corners of my mouth up into a stiff, painful smile, trying to salvage whatever dignity was left in this room.

Inside, my brain was screaming. We tried it! Does it fit? Do you think this is a good fit?! Hell no. Divorce. Immediate divorce.

I had been a decent person my entire life, and I did not deserve this.

A dark flush crept up his neck. "Can we try it one more time?" "Whatever you want…" Might as well grit my teeth and get it over with.

The phone on the nightstand violently vibrated, shattering the moment. It was my mom. "Harlow, your dad collapsed!" Panic laced her voice.

The sheer terror wiped out any trace of awkwardness between us. We scrambled off the bed, grabbing our clothes off the floor, and rushed downstairs to the car.

The night roads were empty, and Vance pushed the gas pedal straight to the floor. I couldn't sit still in the passenger seat.

My fingers shook uncontrollably, and hot tears kept dropping hard against the back of my hands.

Chapter 4 Vance steered the car with one hand, his other large palm wrapped tightly around mine. "Don't panic, Harlow." "Your dad is going to be fine… His physicals are always clear.

Don't scare yourself." We sped through the empty streets and pulled up to the ER in record time. When we rushed into the room, my dad was already sitting up in bed, fully awake.

The heavy, suffocating knot in my chest finally loosened. "Dad, you scared me to death…" I threw my arms around him, my heart still hammering against my ribs. "Oh, it was just a blood pressure spike.

You know your mother—she makes a huge deal out of everything.

Dragging you two out here in the middle of the night." He patted my back, trying to comfort me. "Why did it spike so suddenly?" I asked. "Ugh, your dad took one look at the news about the stock market crashing, and his blood pressure shot straight through the roof," my mom explained, rolling her eyes. "He's fine now, Harlow." "The doctor said he could stay overnight for observation, but your stubborn father refuses to stay here.

We're heading home in a bit." She turned to Vance. "Vance, you have classes to teach tomorrow, right? Take Harlow and head home.

Don't let us ruin your sleep schedule." Before Vance could even open his mouth, I blurted out, "Mom, I'm going back with you guys." "It's the middle of the night.

Why are you coming home with us?" "I just want to." To be completely honest, part of it was worrying about my dad.

The other part was that I had absolutely no idea how to face Vance right now.

The sheer awkwardness of earlier was still crawling all over my skin. "You're being ridiculous…" Before she could push it, Vance stepped in and bailed me out. "Mom, Harlow is just worried about Dad.

She was terrified on the ride over." "Let her stay with you guys tonight. I'll pick her up after work tomorrow." "Alright, alright. Harlow, walk Vance out.

I'll keep an eye on your father," my mom said, waving her hand at me. "No need, Mom," Vance replied politely.

He reached out, his large hand gently ruffling the top of my hair. "Call me if you need anything." My dad was completely fine and went straight to sleep as soon as we got home.

The next day, I slept heavily.

I was jolted awake by my mom's loud voice. "Harlow, do you sleep this late every single day at your own house?" I let out a massive yawn and squinted at my phone screen. "Mom, it's barely ten.

I usually sleep until noon." "Then what exactly do you do all day?" I rubbed my eyes. "I wake up, eat lunch, play some games, bingewatch shows in the afternoon, and then go hang out with Nova at night." Nova was my best friend.

After graduation, she opened a small bar in the city. I had just moved back after surviving two miserable years studying abroad.

For an international student freshly returned to civilization, I desperately needed some intense, revengefueled partying.

My best friend was gorgeous and had wild connections everywhere, so I practically spent every waking second glued to her hip. "So you're out partying every single night!" My mom smacked my arm. "What kind of married woman runs off to a bar every day?" "Mom, I just go there to chill.

It's not like I'm hiring male escorts…" I muttered carefully. "It's a very clean, normal bar…" "And your husband has no problem with you running wild every day?" she demanded. "He's fine with it…" The real truth was, he got off work around four or five in the afternoon, which was exactly when I headed out.

We barely had any chance to bump into each other. "How are things between you two?" I avoided her sharp glare, my thumbnail nervously picking at my cuticles. "We're… we're fine…" "Listen to me, Harlow.

Marriage takes work.

You can't just walk all over the poor guy just because he has a good temper." Seeing her winding up for a massive lecture, I quickly lunged forward, wrapping my arms tightly around her waist and squirming against her like a giant, clingy caterpillar. "Mom, Mom, Mooooom~ My beautiful, perfect mother, what are we eating for lunch?" Chapter 5 My mom gave my arm a helpless smack. "Ask your dad.

I don't know how to cook." My mom was an older princess spoiled rotten by my dad. She was in her fifties and didn't even know how to turn on a microwave.

I dragged myself out of bed and shuffled out. My dad was already bustling around the kitchen. I casually reached over and grabbed a boiled shrimp.

My dad's brows pulled together. "Wash your hands first, little thief." "Dad, why are you cooking so early?" My dad kept moving methodically around the counters. "Once it's done, you're taking this to Vance's campus." I stared at him. "It's a college.

They have a cafeteria." "And you think cafeteria garbage tastes better than a homecooked meal? That boy lost his parents at a young age. He craves a real family more than anything.

You need to show him a little more care." "Got it. Why are you and Mom both defending him today?

Looks like you're pretty satisfied with your soninlaw." I grabbed another shrimp while I talked. My dad gave a proud nod. "Of course. I've been evaluating him for years.

Handing you over to him is the most reassuring thing I've ever done." "He's incredibly handsome, highly educated, and has a great temper.

The best part is he doesn't have parents, so you don't have to deal with any toxic inlaw drama." "Tell me he isn't a million times better than the absolute trash you used to date." I choked on my words.

Honestly, he wasn't wrong. I had a string of shortlived relationships in the past. My exes either cheated on me or came out of the closet.

Eventually, I completely gave up on my own taste in men. Since I was a total daddy's girl and a momma's girl, I just let them pick for me.

Barely a few days after I moved back home, they set me up on a blind date with Vance. Truth be told, I didn't really know him that well before all this.

All I knew was that he didn't have parents, and every Thanksgiving, my dad invited him over for dinner. When I was graduating, he tutored me through my thesis once.

The man was like a walking iceberg in a customtailored suit, radiating a pure, untouchable aura that screamed do not approach.

Meanwhile, my type had always been the funny guys who could make me laugh. Plus, he was five years older than me.

But under my parents' relentless brainwashing, I finally agreed to meet him.

On the day of our blind date, he showed up in a charcoal gray suit with subtle pinstripes, paired with those goldrimmed glasses.

That build, that intense, quiet vibe—it struck a direct hit to my heart. He had me completely pinned down.

Back then, my parents were playing the ultimate wingmen. "He is my absolute best student.

Skipped two grades in middle school, blew straight through his PhD program, and became a senior lecturer at a toptier university before hitting thirty.

He's about to make associate professor." "He doesn't have parents. If you two get married, he practically joins our family.

Getting a toptier catch like him is basically hitting the jackpot." I definitely let the hype get to my head.

In the end, I dragged him to get our marriage license in a complete blur.

I didn't even stop to consider if we were actually a good fit, let alone ask myself why a guy with his Godtier stats was still single in the first place. "Dad, if Vance is so perfect like you said, why the hell was he still single?" I finally asked. "He was broke.

Didn't have much of an income when he was in school. After graduation, he buried himself in his research.

He didn't have the time or energy for romance." I stared at him flatly. "Is it at all possible that there's something physically wrong with him?" "What could possibly be wrong with him?

He's your husband.

Shouldn't you know?" My dad stopped chopping and shot his head up, his eyes locking onto me. "Is there something wrong with Vance?" "NNo… No, I was just saying…" The whole threeminute disaster from last night… maybe it was just because he was getting old… "Dad, don't you think Vance is a little too quiet?" My dad shook his head helplessly, pivoting right back into his classic professor lecture mode.

Chapter 6 "Sweet talk is cheap. It only fools idiots like you." "Right, right, whatever you say…" "You've been back in the States for a while now. Haven't you partied enough?

You're married now; you can't just run wild all day. Find a light job." "You don't need to make a lot of money; I can still support you." "Yes, Professor.

I'll start sending out resumes tomorrow and find a stable desk job with full health benefits.

How does that sound?" "Glad you finally have some sense." Eventually, I grabbed the insulated lunchbox my parents packed and dragged myself to Vance's campus.

He was teaching an open lecture that hadn't finished yet.

Curiosity piqued—I wondered what this guy looked like standing at a podium—I slipped in through the back doors of the lecture hall.

There was exactly one empty seat in the very last row, so I quietly slid into it.

At the front, Vance stood facing a massive chalkboard covered in complex equations, speaking in a language I absolutely couldn't comprehend.

The fluorescent lights caught the gold rims of his glasses.

He looked entirely in his element, radiating an untouchable, sharp academic aura. "Hey, you aren't from our department, are you?" the girl sitting next to me whispered.

I gave an awkward nod. "Did you come just to see the campus god too? Professor Vance is insanely famous.

Half the girls here just show up to stare at his face." My eyebrows pulled together. "Vance is that popular?" "Are you kidding? He's a living legend around here.

Every girl's ultimate fantasy." She discreetly pointed a finger toward the front. "See that girl up there? That's Daphne from our major.

I heard she knew Professor Vance before, and she's always finding excuses to cling to him." I followed her gaze.

Sure enough, a girl with pale skin sat near the front, staring up at Vance with absolute, undivided attention. Huh.

Who knew Vance was such a magnet for drama? "The rest of us just treat him like an idol, but she's obviously got some dirty ulterior motives.

A lot of people can't stand her," the girl muttered, full of gossip. "So many girls throw themselves at him, but Professor Vance never entertains any of it.

He is strictly professional." "That's the main reason we worship him. But word going around is that he got married recently.

No one knows which lucky goddess actually managed to lock him down." Right in the middle of her whispering, a freezing voice cut through the air. "The student talking in the back row.

Stand up and answer this question." Instantly, every single head in the room whipped around to look at the back.

I practically faceplanted onto the desk, burying my head in my arms.

The girl next to me scrambled to her feet. "Uh, utilizing the f(x) advancement theory to prove the application process of linear fluids in practice…" Damn.

Toptier university students really are built different. She was gossiping the whole time and still didn't miss a beat. "Good.

Take a seat," Vance said smoothly. "Now, let's have your desk mate break down the specifics." I stayed completely frozen against the desk, playing dead.

The girl nudged my elbow under the table. "Hey, he's calling you…" I gritted my teeth. "The student with her head down." I dug my nails into my palms, my face burning as I slowly stood up. "I don't know!" A wave of loud laughter instantly erupted across the lecture hall.

I glared daggers straight at Vance, heavily suspecting he did that entirely on purpose. His eyes locked onto me, and his strict posture faltered.

Then, the corner of his mouth curved upward into a distinct smirk. "See me in my office after class." The girl next to me gave me a look of pure pity and sighed. "RIP…" What a disaster… I pulled out my phone and aggressively typed out a text to Vance. [Did you do that on purpose?] [Leave by yourself after class.

I'm sneaking home.] There was absolutely no way I was letting his students find out their professor's wife was a complete idiot. Up at the podium, he glanced down at his phone.

The smirk on his lips deepened. [Don't be mad