Chapter 2

AMARA:

“Dad, I don’t want to go to the city. I don’t want to marry a city man,” I protested. Tears gathered in my eyes.

My father stood up from the blue couch. He is a tall, dark-skinned man, unlike my mother and me, who are both light-skinned.

Dad sighed and said, “Amara, we are not disowning you. You will always be our daughter, but you must start your own life and family, to give your mother and me grandchildren. We also do not want you to leave us, but we cannot trust all these people here to look after you. That is why your mother and I decided you should go to the city. There, you will be genuinely loved—not by greedy people who may pretend with you to gain favor from us.”

“Dad!” Tears flowed freely from my eyes. My mother stood and walked over to me.

“You don’t have to cry. I assure you the Briggs family are good people. Mr. Joshua Briggs is my childhood friend. You will be treated well in their home,” my father told me. I was left speechless.

I had gone to the city before to further my education and study accounting, but I didn’t like city life. I never envisioned myself living there, with its social and competitive pace. I love my peace—that is all that interests me.

“It’s okay. Come, let us go outside and see the fireworks. It will be a new year soon,” my mother said as she gently embraced me.

“Mom, I am not interested in seeing fireworks. I am not happy about any of this. How could you and Dad decide my life like this?” I asked. She let out an exasperated sigh as my father left the office.

“I understand your feelings, Amara, but you should know your father wants the best for you,” my mother told me.

“Dad want the best for me by forcing me to marry his best friend’s son? I cannot go to the city tomorrow, Mom. Please speak to Dad again—cancel all of this and let me stay here,” I protested. My mother sighed again.

“It’s okay. Stop crying. Come, let us go outside,” she urged, gently pulling me to walk with her.

My mother and I are of similar height. We are tall, but not as tall as my father. We have blue eyes and long blonde hair.

I sighed and followed my mother outside to see the fireworks. My mind raced with thoughts, wondering what my new husband would look like.

I cannot believe I am a married woman now. But this is not the marriage I dreamed of.

I had hoped to walk down the aisle in a long white wedding dress, with a veil covering my head, escorted by my parents to meet my husband officially.

How can I just be told one night that the next day I must go to a man’s house to become his wife? A man I have never seen, who grew up in the city.

Where is that done?

I swallowed my nervousness and dried my face. Outside, I saw my aunt and the rest of our family. They all looked joyful—well, except for me. No matter how I used the white handkerchief my mother lent me to wipe my face, I am sure it still looked red and swollen from sobbing.

While others were joyful, I was in turmoil, unhappy about my parents’ decision. I had no option but to follow the path they chose. They are my guardians, after all, and if I disobey them, I might face many challenges. But I am not brave enough to disobey them, either.

I sighed and watched the fireworks. I cheered up and encouraged myself: I am only married—it is not the end of my life.

After midnight, it will be a brand-new day: a new year, a new beginning, and me as a new married woman.

My parents and I went back inside. My aunts and uncles left for their nearby house after wishing us a happy new year.

My mother’s younger sister, Juliet Donalds, walked over to me. She is over forty, my mother’s only sister. She looks like my mother, with the same face, pointed nose, and sparkling blue eyes that shine hopefully. She has two daughters younger than me.

“Amara, what’s wrong? I noticed you didn’t look very cheerful,” she asked just as I walked into the living room to go upstairs.

“I am fine, Aunt. I just feel overwhelmed by the new year,” I lied. I couldn’t tell her I was married. Who would believe me? No one saw me get married, and I think my mother hasn’t told her yet, even though they talk about everything.

“Are you sure you’re fine?” my aunt asked again.

I nodded. “Yes, Aunt. I am good. I have to go upstairs now,” I said, wanting to walk away.

She sighed. “Whatever is troubling you, put it into prayer. Don’t let it weigh you down, okay?”

“Okay, Aunt.” I nodded just as my mother stepped out of the kitchen. She smiled at us and told her sister, “Amara will be fine. She’s going to the city tomorrow to her husband’s house.”

“What??” My aunt looked stunned. She swiftly turned to my mother, who looked beautiful even at night, glowing brightly like the sun.

“You don’t mean it, Julianne. Your daughter is married and we didn’t know? When? How?” my aunt questioned.

My mother sighed and handed the cup of water she was holding back to Agnes to return to the kitchen.

“It’s a long story, Juliet, but it is for Amara’s good. Don’t worry—she is our daughter, and she will be fine,” my mother assured her younger sister. Then she walked over to me.

“Come, Amara, let us go to your room and pack some of your things. It will be morning soon, and the driver will be here on time to take you to your husband’s house. Good night, sister,” my mother said as she came to my side.

I felt like crying and protesting again, but I am an obedient girl. So I let my mother wrap her arm around my shoulder as she escorted me back upstairs to my room.