CHAPTER 2

Amara Nicolas:

"Dad, I don't want to go to the city. I don't want to marry a city man," I protested, tears gathering in my eyes.

My father rose from the blue couch. He is a very tall man with dark skin, 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 don't want you to leave us, but we cannot trust just anyone here to look after you. That is why your mother and I decided this: you will go to the city, and there, you will be genuinely loved—not by greedy people who might pretend with you to gain favor from us."

"Dad!" Tears streamed freely down my cheeks like open taps. My mother stood and walked over to me.

"You don't have to cry," my father assured me. "I can promise you that the Briggs family are good people. Joshua is my childhood friend. You will be treated well when you arrive at his home."

I was left speechless.

I had been to the city before, to further my education and study accounting. But I never liked city life—I couldn't envision myself living there, caught up in the social competition and fast-paced lifestyle. I love my peace, and that is all that truly matters to me.

"It's alright. Come, let us go outside and watch the fireworks. It will be a new year soon," my mother said, gently embracing me.

"Mom, I'm not interested in the fireworks. I'm not happy about any of this. How could you and Dad decide my life this way?" I asked. My mother let out an exasperated sigh as my father left us in his home office.

"I understand your feelings, Amara, but you should know that your father wants what's best for you," Mom told me.

"By forcing me to marry his best friend's son? I can't go to the city tomorrow, Mom. Please speak to Father again—cancel all of this and let me stay here," I pleaded. Mom sighed once more.

"It's alright. Stop crying. Come, let's go outside," she urged, gently pulling me along.

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

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

I still couldn't believe I was now a married woman. But this was not the marriage I had dreamed of.

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

How could I be told one night that the very next day, I would go to a stranger's house and become his wife? A man I had never seen in my life, raised in the city.

Where is that ever 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 much I wiped my face with the white handkerchief my mother lent me, I was sure my eyes were still red and swollen from sobbing.

While everyone else celebrated, I was in turmoil, unhappy with my parents' decision. But I had no choice but to follow the path they had set for me. They were my guardians, after all, and if I disobeyed them, I might face many challenges in life. Still, I wasn't brave enough to defy them.

I sighed and watched the fireworks. I forced myself to cheer up, reminding myself that I was only getting married—not that my life was ending.

After midnight, a brand new day dawned: a new year, a new beginning, and me as a newly married woman.

My parents and I went back into my father's house—while my aunts and uncles left for their nearby home after wishing us a happy new year.

My mother's younger sister, Juliet, walked up to me. She was over forty and the only sister my mother had. She resembles my mother—same face, pointed nose, and sparkling blue eyes that glimmered with hope.

Her name was Juliet Donalds, and she had two daughters younger than me.

"Amara, what's wrong? I noticed you weren't looking cheerful," she asked just as I entered the living room to head upstairs to my bedroom.

"I'm fine, Ma. I just feel overwhelmed by New Year's Day," I lied. I couldn't tell her I was married. Who would believe me? No one had witnessed a wedding, and I doubted my mother had informed her yet, even though they usually discussed everything together.

"Are you sure you're alright?" my aunt pressed.

I nodded. "Yes, Aunt. I'm fine. I have to go upstairs now," I said, eager to escape.

She sighed and told me, "Whatever is troubling you, take it to prayer. Don't let it weigh you down, alright?"

"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 spun to face my mother, who looked radiant even at night, still glowing brightly like the sun.

"You don't mean it, Julianne. You mean 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's for Amara's good. Don't worry—she's our daughter, and she will be fine," Mom assured her younger sister. Then she walked over to me.

"Come, Amara, let's go to your room and pack some of your things. It will soon be morning, and the driver will arrive on time to take you to your husband's house. Good night, sister," Mom told her sister as she approached me.

I felt like crying and protesting again, but I knew I was an obedient girl. So I allowed my mother to wrap her arm around my shoulder and escort me back to my room upstairs.