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BLAIR’S POV

Here I was walking down the aisle, with my father. The very first time we'd be seen side by side with each other, except there were no guests to see this. Only mother and the chief staff member, Mr. Johnson, were present as witnesses to the union.

It was a very quick ceremony and before I could take it all in, we were pronounced ‘man and wife’ by the clergy. I was now Blair Brycee.

‘What kind of name was that?’

Brycee was a good looking man with thick, brown hair. He had slightly dark skinned, coffee brown eyes and was 5 ‘5 tall, but he was also thirty years old, which made me wonder why my parents did not hesitate to give me away to him.

‘Did they really have to get rid of me that badly?’

Immediately after the ceremony, my parents and the other staff drove off, leaving Brycee and I at the church. We walked a distance away from the church and then took a cab.

I was so embarrassed to be alighting the vehicle in a slum, in my wedding dress. Everyone stared at us, and I folded in diffidence.

“Come in,” the first words that Brycee said to me, since we got married, or probably all my life.

I looked around and couldn't believe that such a slum could exist, not very far from the estate where my parents lived. It was a small apartment that could fit into my father's room.

“It's nothing like your father's, but you barely have a definition of luxury, so…” Brycee said, leaving me in the three square meter sitting room to the bedroom.

I took a deep breath, taking in my new reality.

‘This might not be so bad,’ I thought. If anything, Brycee was right, I have never lived a luxurious life and I might just be able to make this work, at least I didn't have to clean a thousand square white tiles with my toothbrush.

‘Nothing could beat the ill treatment my parents had given me over the last couple of years,’ or so I thought.

I was still standing in thoughts, when Brycee came out of the room, casually dressed and headed out.

“Where are you going?” I asked, as he almost pushed me onto the only sofa in the sitting room. There was barely enough space for two people.

“Work,” he replied sternly, “out here, bills are paid, Cinderella,” he said, walking out and shutting the door a little too hard, behind him.

‘Did he just call me Cinderella?’ I rolled my eyes, ‘why was Brycee being so mean to me?’ I was as much a victim as he was in this situation, maybe I was more a victim than he was. He could have rejected my parents’ offer but I couldn't.

The little rebellion I tried to put up, earned me a slap from my mother that took the three days I had to rest, in healing.

I went to shower and since I had nothing here to wear, I flung on one of Brycee’s shirts. It took a while to navigate the little house, but I was able to make pasta for dinner.

I put my heart into making the meal, hoping to get Brycee’s attention, or at least get on his good side.

‘If we were going to be married, we had to get along, right?’

I hoped to recreate a marriage like that of my parents, they were always in sync and agreed on every single thing. They collectively agreed to be mean to their own child. I wasn't planning to be mean to my child, but I was hoping to reach that height of sync that existed between my parents.

I stayed up waiting for Brycee's return, which took a long while.

‘Rude!’ I rolled my eyes. ‘It was our wedding day, how dare he disappear like this?’ ‘Didn’t father have the decency to give him the day off work?’

I was getting really upset, when he pushed the door open.

“You’re home late,” I said, with a shaky voice. I could always rant in my head, but never confident enough to voice my thoughts.

“Out here, we pay bills,” he replied.

“Cinderella,” I added, under my breath.

He chuckled and his smile gladdened my heart.

“I made pasta,” I said, pointing at the table.

He headed to the table, without a word and dug into his meal.

‘This was going great,’ I thought.

He went to shower after dinner and I quickly cleaned up to join him in bed.

******************************************

“We don't get the luxury of sleep here, Cinderella,” his high-pitched voice woke me up, as he poured a cup of water on my face.

I jumped out of bed, breathing heavily.

“I'd expect breakfast and lunch to go by this time, every morning,” he said, “I'm not going to starve with a wife,” he added, going to the sitting room.

This was just like being at home, nothing had changed.

‘What did I do wrong?’ I thought.

I'd assume after dinner last night, we ended on a good note and would begin a new day on that note.

I dragged myself out of bed and headed for the kitchen.

“You're going to prepare me a meal without having a bath?” Brycee scolded.

I paused and stared at him. Back at home, mother would never let me shower before doing anything for her.

“Weren't you taught hygiene in your mansion, Cinderella?” He queried.

I went back apologetically to take a shower.

I couldn't seem to do anything right by Brian, and he came down very judgemental and bossy.

After a series of scolding, I finally got his breakfast and lunch ready.

“I won't be home early, don't wait up,” he said, leaving and slamming the door very hard after him.

I took a deep breath, feeling exasperated.

‘What have I gotten myself into?’