Chapter 2.

Zia

He stopped dancing and raised his eyebrow, slowly touching his waist. "Oh? That's all you have to say?" He snarled, and I raised my eyebrow. 

What did he want me to say?

"You're marrying me off," I shrugged, my feelings still foreign. "You want me to cry and beg you not to?" I asked, and he clicked his tongue, raising his finger.

"You–you!" He pointed his finger at me, stressing his slurred words. The bastard's drunk already. "See what I will do to you." 

"What? Are you going to make sure I don't get married?" I rolled my eyes, and he cursed as he took steps forward; my mother raised her hand, and he halted in his steps. 

"Please leave," she whispered, tilting her head to look at him. "I want to speak to her." 

"Mxm, I'll be at the tavern," he said as he looked me up and down before he dragged his feet to the door. "They'll return her within a week." 

He muttered as he pulled the door open and stumbled out of the house; only if he could fall on a rock on his way there. 

"Zia," she said in a low voice, and I realised I had been avoiding her this entire time. "How are you feeling?" 

I shrugged as I pouted, looking around at the house, trying to figure out how I felt. 

Betrayed. 

"Nothing," I lied as I forced a smile. She didn't believe me, and her glossy eyes told me how much she wanted me to tell her the truth. I slowly nodded and licked my dry lips, my fingers softly tracing the run-down leather of the couch as I looked at my mother. 

"You marrying me off?" I asked, my heart beating against my chest erratically as I watched my mother wipe her tears.

"We didn't mean to, but Zia. This opportunity only comes once in a lifetime; it could help with your brother's future if not ours—" I tuned out my mother as she explained the benefits of this sacrifice I had to make for the family. I had to marry a stranger and become the wife of a man I knew nothing of; it was all on me—for them.

What about my future?

"Okay," I whispered, nodding and blinking away the tears in my eyes. The lump sat on my throat, and sobs threatened to come out, but I held it in. "I get it."

"Zia, please scream or say no. Don't keep it in!" She cried, and I stared at the tears that rolled down her face. Would screaming change your mind?

"But I have nothing to say, and it'll be a waste of my breath," I smiled and walked back to my bedroom. It was common around here, but I never thought it would make it into our home. Arranged marriage? Wow!

I couldn't sleep after what I had just agreed to; what kind of man would I marry? Would I be obliged to perform wifely duties for him? Of course, you would, Zia; why else would he need a wife? 

What kind of business were they in that even required a wife?

An heir, Zia, whatever their business is, needs an heir. 

Breathing out heavily, the rustic metal smell enveloped my nostrils thickly. I lay on my bed and stared at our zinc ceiling, counting the lines until I fell asleep. Looking at my little brother once more as he slept peacefully, a small smile made its way up my face. 

I'm doing this for him so his life turns out better than mine, than our parents, and I know he will salvage this opportunity.

It seemed as if, as soon as the agreement was heard from my family, everything was set into motion. Everything was already planned for the wedding in less than 2 weeks. All they waited for was the go-ahead as if they already knew a wedding would happen regardless of whether we agreed.

I don't know why I keep including myself in the conversations. I was just the product that was getting ready to be sold.

Still, I had no clue who I was marrying; the person communicated with my parents, and I was high on my nerves. My aunties had come from their homes in the villages to teach me all about the responsibilities of a wife. I also had to quit work, and Ouma was disappointed I was leaving. It's not as if she paid me enough anyway.

I knew how to cook perfectly well, regardless of some fools comments, and doing the chores was never a problem for me; however, when they started mentioning that a man needed to be sexually satisfied in marriage, I felt as if the earth could open up and swallow me whole.

Believe it or not, I had no experience in that, but a 22-year-old who barely had a life outside school and random jobs knew nothing of sex. Yes, I knew what it was, but I never wanted to get involved in it, especially at such a young age; I guess I blamed culture and beliefs.

Also, I was never interested in having a baby—that motivated me to stay away from men.

My mother would scold my aunts whenever they would touch that topic whenever I was around, specifically when they told me missionary was probably the best position I could ever know; whenever he said so, I should lay on my back and let it happen.

A part of me wished to accept it like that so that I could be a ″good wife″ as my aunts explained to me, but I have always had my father's stubbornness instilled in me from a young age; if I didn't want to do something I wouldn't, and I knew the word 'no' all too well. However, I just smiled and agreed with what my aunts said.

Two weeks passed in a blur, and I found myself standing in a church in a room as I changed into my dress; somehow, they knew the sizes of everything, and I wasn't so shocked.

Whoever these people were, they had power, money, and great power. I'm sorry I had to mention it again. The satin dress fitted me like a second skin, and I was freaking out to have such expensive clothing on me.

This dress probably cost more than my parent's house.

I watched my teary-eyed mom walk over to me, holding the tiara and the veil. She wore her best outfit, a two-piece beige suit- and looked great. She carefully put the tiara on my head and kissed my cheek. 

I wasn't so mad at her anymore. I understood the situation, and hopefully, I wouldn't have to stay married forever.

"You look beautiful. I'm grateful they allowed us to have an opportunity to see you in something so beautiful," she whispered, and I nodded, understanding what she meant.

This was nobody's idea of how I would ever get married; we always imagined it would be traditional with family and friends around, but the guests were limited. Only my immediate family was allowed, which I was kind of thankful for because my aunts had a lot to say during the past weeks, and I was tired of them.

They never stopped talking!

"Remember to keep your head down for this part until he asks you to raise your head," she gave me her last piece of advice, and I whispered my answer. "But never stop being the strong, driven woman you are. I know you'll make a great wife." UGHHH.

She pulled me into a hug, and I sighed at the scent of my mother, feeling sad that I had to leave her so soon. A knock interrupted us, and a woman entered the room, smiling kindly at us.

"They're ready for you," she said confidently, and I didn't miss how gorgeous she was. Her blonde hair, left in curls flowing down her slender hourglass body, piercing blue eyes, and perfect red-painted bow lips. She was stunning. "You look gorgeous, just like I knew you would," she said, smiling and staring at my body.

Feeling shy, I whispered my thanks and followed her. Standing out in the hall, I met my stepfather and frowned. He chuckled happily as he forced me to hook my arm with his. 

"Be good and don't fuck this up!" 

"And come back to you? I wouldn't fucking dare," I gritted through my teeth. 

Yes, they were kind enough to have some wedding, so at least my family could remember seeing me in a bridal gown. They were kind enough to let my stepdad walk me down the aisle; I wished they didn't. 

Down the aisle to stand in front of the man who would be my husband in a few moments.

Keeping my head down as my mother informed me; it was part of our culture as well; I heard the priest talk to the people there.

I noticed that he also had a few people with him; they all looked big. No bridesmaids, no groomsman...just us, the priest, and the families.

As I listened, my eyes stayed cast down and hung onto every word the priest said—love? No. Honour and respect? That is earned. I felt a finger move under my chin, and my head was lifted to look at the person.

I saw his hands reach for the veil; was it that time yet? I was sure the priest was still discussing our duties to each other; his actions even stopped the priest from talking.

I studied the man's face as he did with mine; I didn't miss his golden-brown eyes, enhanced by how dark and long his eyelashes were. His hair was combed and brushed away from his face; his beard was trimmed neatly on his face. 

Why does he look so familiar?

A small smile took over his face as he extended his hand toward me. "Mateo," he introduced himself, and I slowly met his hand with mine. 

"Zia," I tried to say confidently as he did, but it came out as a whisper. Where did I see him again? I feel like I have met him before.

"Nice to finally meet you," he said, smiling, and I was shocked. I was ashamed that I had not noticed him earlier, as he possessed manners that became apparent as soon as I stood there. I gasped as I looked behind him and saw the low-bun, iced latte guy. I pointed my finger at Mateo, remembering where I had seen him. 

He smiled and looked back at the priest, and his smile was gone. 

"Finish." He said, but there was a certain hardness in his tone that took us all by surprise and had the priest speedily finish his speech, deeming us husband and wife.

"You may err; kiss the bride," my eyes widened in shock as I watched Mateo move closer to me. I wanted to move back, but I was frozen in place, and I felt his lips press against my cheek next to the corner of my lips. He moved back, and I still stared at him, releasing a deep breath I didn't realise I had been holding.

"Let's go."

He motioned for me to move before him off the stage, and I did so shakily; as I made it down the two steps, surprisingly, with his help, my little brother ran towards me and hugged my waist tightly.

"Don't leave me!" He cried, and I teared up, squatting to his level. "Who's going to help me with my homework if you leave?" he sobbed, and I giggled, wiping his tears.

"You're going to have better teachers than the ones you have, so you won't need my help, but I'll visit you, okay? So don't cry," I said soothingly and hugged him. His body shook as he cried. My mother came to retrieve him from me as she also cried. "I'm gonna miss you," I whispered in his ear and kissed his temple. I got up from my crouched position and hugged my mother, slyly moving away from my stepdad, who laughed like a maniac. 

After saying our goodbyes, I followed Mateo and his group out of the church and followed him to a new life for me.