Chapter 3

**Amara's POV:**

We got into my bedroom, which was very large, and my mother accompanied me to pack some of my things. She didn't want me to carry all my loads, reminding me that the Briggs family was wealthy and I didn't have to stress about arranging and packing everything I owned.

We finished packing all the boxes around 1 a.m., and my mother was exhausted. She stretched, yawned, and told me, "I have to go back to my room to meet your father. Good night, my princess."

"Okay, Mom, but I’m still not happy about this marriage. Can't you speak to my father again about it?" I asked her, looking at her face with my blue-shining eyes that glimmered with hope at the thought of her agreeing.

"No, Amara. I want you to marry and give me a grandchild. I cannot speak to your father about this again. Not to worry, when you get to the city, I will call you from time to time to know how you're faring," my mother told me, and hot tears streamed freely down my face.

I didn't know why I wasn't happy about getting married and going to the city. It had always been my dream to marry a handsome man—a good man—but I was scared, and anxiety coursed through my veins.

I asked my mother, "Mom, what if the man does not like me? I don't know him, and I haven't seen him before. If he truly wants me, he should have been here since I was already married to him, and before I became aware of it."

"Hmm, he will love you once he sets his eyes on you. I don't know if his father has told him, but this was an agreement between your father and his father. It would be best if you were a good wife to him and didn't discard your home training. I know that the first year of marriage isn't easy, with you adjusting to your new home and your husband's way of life. As you know, he grew up in the city and is not familiar with us. But I am certain that he will love you very much. So don't be negative about anything; always maintain a positive mindset," my mother told me, but I stubbornly disagreed.

I asked her, "Mom, what if he already has a woman in his life? I know all these city men are equivalent to nymphs. I was there, and the way they gawked at me was as if they wanted to eat me raw. I wouldn't say I like the idea of going to the city. I want a man from here," I protested again.

"This is unlike you, my princess. Not to worry, I doubt he would be in any relationship that he would desire, as his father would have told him about you. He's your husband, and you shouldn't worry much. Now come and go to bed and get some good sleep. You have a long way to travel tomorrow," my mother told me as she approached me again and led me to the bed in my room.

I went to relieve myself in the restroom. I stepped out of my restroom and thought my mother had returned to her room, but she was still there, waiting for me to lie down like I was her baby.

My mother carefully used the bedcover to tuck me in as I slowly drifted to sleep, knowing I would miss the warm comfort of my parents' home the following day. I would be going to a man's house whom I hadn’t met before. I knew nothing about him. I wondered whether he would accept me or throw me out, reminding me that he never came to my family's house to marry me.

All these thoughts lingered in my mind. However, I had a dream, and in my dream, I saw a man—a tall man. I couldn't see his face, but he was attractive and stared at me with curiosity. He looked familiar, as if I had seen him before.

He approached me and pulled me into an embrace, and as I tried to look at his face, I couldn’t see it or determine if he was my husband, the new man I was going to live with. I woke up and saw my mother in my room.

"Amara, are you still in bed? Get up; it's almost 6 a.m." My mother walked over to pull open my room's curtains, and I yawned and stretched as I sat up carefully on the bed.

I got out of bed and greeted her, "Good morning, Mom."

"Morning, my sweet pie, go and take your bath quickly. The car driver will soon be here. Let me go and prepare your breakfast," my mother told me as she quickly exited my bedroom. She wasn't giving me a chance to protest again.

I sighed and went into my bathroom for a quick, refreshing bath. I got out of the bathroom and stepped out, only to find that my two large boxes of clothes were already out of my room, and I saw a yellow dress on the bed that my mother had chosen for me to wear.

I wasn't good with fashion, and my mother prioritized choosing a yellow dress. She was very stylish; heads turned to stare at her for a second time. I think that was how my mother won my father's heart. With her high fashion style and formidable looks, but me? I was too local to be considered fashionable.

I am cute anyway, so why must I dress in a way to entice a man? I prefer wearing oversized dresses to hide all my curves and shapes. In short, when I go to the market to select a dress, I choose something loose.

After schooling in the city, I hated it when any man gawked at me; so I made it a priority to buy loose-fitting dresses that were only my height, but too voluminous to hide all my curves and big breasts.

I don't find pleasure in looking cute. I remember one of my roommates telling me that if I wore a seductive dress, I would capture the heart of the president's son and become a perfect seductress.

But no, I want to look decent and not too flashy. I don’t appreciate drawing attention; it makes me feel vulnerable, as if I would be kidnapped by one of those predatory men whose eyes were monitoring my every move.

I sighed, drying off my wet body. I applied my orange cream, then picked up the yellow dress and put it on just as my mother returned to my bedroom.