My arranged marriage: Emelda and Bryan.

Emelda's POV The hot rays of the scorching sun pierced through the white cotton curtain, smooching my wearied skin as I bent over the kitchen floor. The kitchen floor was as stubborn as a mule as it laid unyielding beneath the almost worn out brush I held in my hands as I scrubbed away at the stubborn stains on it. "Arghh!" I let out softly. I was exhausted and my back aches due to the hard chores and labor I had been subjected to by my stepmother. As I scrubbed further, tears rolled down my eyes as past thoughts of how I never had to do anything because my dad would always provide a maid. After my mother died with my baby brother during childbirth, I became the next most important person in my father's life until he met Juana, my stepmother. And after his mysterious death last year, everything became worse. My mind wandered back to the first time I met Juana. After years of grieving over my mother, and with the responsibility of taking care of me, my father decided to remarry

(Jonathan's POV) I sat on the edge of my bed as I dial the caretaker's number, my mind filled with the events of the past hour. Dealing with Bryan is always draining. As the phone rang, my eyes drifted to the framed photograph on my bedside table. It was a picture of my son, Bryan Jr's father and his wife, smiling and happy. They were the picture of perfection, the embodiment of everything I had worked for. But all that had been taken from me in an instant, in the blink of an eye, in the crash that had claimed their lives and left me a broken man. "Good afternoon sir." The caretaker's voice echoed through the phone. I swallowed hard the rising thoughts of my dead son, recollected my thoughts and focused on the task at hand. "Good afternoon," I replied, my voice terse and businesslike. "I need to discuss a matter of some urgency." The caretaker, accustomed to my no-nonsense tone, quickly agrees to meet with me. "Of course, Mr. Rodriguez," he answered. "Is there anything I

Emelda's POV As I walked into my room, my stomach gave out a rumbling noise, accompanied with a sharp pain. It was obvious; hunger pangs. I hadn't eaten since the previous night and it was past noon already. Holding my stomach so tightly, I collapsed onto the bed as my aching muscles due to cleaning and cooking yearned for rest. I was exhausted and it was clearly visible on my face. Just as I'm about to drift off to sleep, the door opens, and my stepsister, Natasha, barged in. "Emelda," she snapped, her voice shrill and accusatory. "Why haven't you cleaned my room yet?" Rubbing my eyes, I sat up, "I was busy," I replied, my voice quiet. "Busy?" Natasha repeated, her voice dripping with disgust. "Busy doing what, exactly? You're just simply lazy, Emelda, a worthless little servant." I bit my lip as I tried to hold back the anger rising within me. "I'm not lazy," I answered back, my voice stronger now. "I work hard for this family, and I deserve some respect." Natasha's fa

Emelda's POV The world stood still as Jonathan's words rang in my ears for the upteempth time. "I'm going to take a quick nap. I would leave you two to solve your father-in-law and Daughter-in-law squabble." Bryan who had been on his phone uttered as he let out a scornful laughter. Ignoring Bryan, my mind focused on Jonathan's words which echoed in my head, a deafening buzz that drowned out all rational thought. Bryan. Not Jonathan. My husband. My mind reeled, struggling to process the new information. As I stood staring blankly at Jonathan, anger and betrayal welled up like a tidal wave, sweeping away all reason and sense I had. I lashed out, my words hot as the flames as I accused Jonathan of treating me like a possession–a property he could just toss around. I poured out the resentment I had held up inside, letting my raw emotions flow like an untamed river. Suddenly, I realized what I was doing and I caught myself, my voice softening. I had gone overboard with my words

Bryan's POV My teeth clashed in anger and my mind seethed with rage as I stormed out of the house, leaving Emelda still standing in shock. I knew my words cut through her but I didn't mind. It was a dumb idea agreeing to whatever my grandfather had told her. I pushed the door leading to the stairs open with such force that it slammed against the wall, sending a reverberating noise across the empty stairwell. Still enraged, I take the stairs, two at a time, my footsteps echoing in the dank and dingy stairwell. As I rounded the corner to the ground floor, my hand brushed against something sticky and rough. Realizing it was a cobweb, I let out a cry of disgust. The cobweb dangled like a ghostly specter from the ceiling. Filled with disgust, I furiously shake my hand, wiping the cobweb's residue on the almost rusted metallic rail. "Disgusting," I muttered under my breath, my irritation boiling over. “This place is a dump, just like everything else in my life right now.” I stro