Bride to be

~Adeline

My grip on the dresser tightens as the unwanted tears continue to rain down my cheeks. I release my grip from it and swipe at the tears, willing them to stop. I manage to rid my face of all traces of it for the moment but the hollow in my chest remains.

I try to steady my breathing as I stare at my reflection. I can barely recognise the image of the girl staring back at me in the mirror. Her face is swollen from crying for so long, her eyes coated a bright red.

Strands of her dark hair stick to her face, her green eyes lacking the glow it usually has. I look away once tears begin to cloud my vision again. I can confidently say I look like a zombie and for the first time, it doesn’t bother me.

I sigh, trudging across the room before plopping down on my queen sized bed. I try to distract myself by going through the magazine I had been reading earlier but nothing seems to be working.

My mind constantly goes back to the fact that I’m supposed to get married to a total stranger. Why did father have to do this to me? He always did what was best for me so why did this have to be an exception?

My ringtone blasts through the air, interrupting my sulking. I turn to it to find out it’s my boyfriend calling. Staring at the phone ringing only makes me sadder. I want to ignore it but I end up picking it.

I remain silent afterwards, waiting for him to speak.

“Hey, I’m outside your window but its shut—”

“Give me a minute.”

I end the call before he can say anything else. I head to the mirror to make sure I don’t look so hideous anymore. I dab on a little makeup before heading for the window.

I unlatch it and pull it open. Standing outside in a coat, hugging himself; is the finest man I’ve ever seen. I observe him for a minute. He is completely drenched from the heavy downpour which started a few minutes ago, his blonde hair sticking to his face.

His nose is red and he seems to be shivering.

“Can I come inside now or you want me t-to be d-dead before you let me i-in?”

A smile remains on his face as he speaks. I can’t help smiling back. I move aside to allow him enough room to pass.

“You know the door exists for a reason,” I say as I watch him wiggling his way through the window.

“What’s the fun in that?” he asks, his Scottish accent heavily lacing his words, “Besides I don’t think some people will appreciate me showing up to see you in the middle of the night.”

My smile falls at his words. Everyone has been against our relationship from the start, probably the reason they pulled this stunt.

“Hey, cheer up,” he says, cupping my chin.

I shiver a bit at his cold touch and he seems to notice it, releasing his grip on my face immediately.

“Man is it cold outside,” he says, heading towards my bed.

He plops down on it, making himself comfortable.

“So how have you been? I haven’t seen you in so long and I really missed you.”

I chuckle at his words, moving to join him on the bed.

“You saw me two days ago.”

“Really?” he asks, raising his brows, “I thought it was three.”

“Shut up,” I say, attempting to punch his chest.

He seizes my hands, pulling me closer to him. Before I can say anything, he presses his lips against mine. I don’t have enough time to savour the kiss before he pulls away.

“You know you can always shut me up without using your words.” A lazy smirk dances on his face as he winks at me and I try to hide my face to prevent him from seeing the red colour that must have spread across my cheeks.

“How did today go?” he asks suddenly, his face taking up a serious look, “You were so worried earlier and you didn’t look too fine when you first opened that window. What happened?”

I remain silent. Of course he would have noticed; it seems almost impossible to hide anything from him. I sigh, deciding to tell him everything.

“Well, the whole company didn’t go to me as I had expected. I was so relieved when I first heard it, like I didn’t have to bother about how I would even start to handle everything . . .”

I trail off for a minute, my eyes watering as I remember the lawyer’s words. He reaches out and squeezes my hand, causing me to smile a little.

“But then there’s a problem. A portion of house will be mine together with some estates and well, roughly fifty million dollars—”

“And that’s a problem how?” He quirks a brow, his forehead creasing. “I thought you were just afraid of being burdened with the company’s responsibility. You also don’t want any money?”

“Well, I don’t think it’s necessary since I’m not his biological daughter. I would have just been okay with them letting me stay in the house—”

He interrupts me again. “Okay, but since he decided to will some of his property to you, what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that there was an extra clause attached to it.”

He stares at me expectantly, waiting for my next words.

“I have to get married to this guy I’m just seeing for the first time today.”

“What!?” He furrows his brows. “That doesn’t even make sense. Why would Mr. Wyatt do that? And who’s the guy? Why is he suddenly in the picture—”

“He’s the biological son.”

He falls silent for a minute before looking away from me.

“So you’re getting married to him?”

His voice is low, almost lost even in the silence of the room.

“Of course not, how could you think I would even accept such an offer? It’s bizarre. I really can’t understand why father would even think of such a thing but there’s no way in hell I would ever agree to leave you.”

He looks at me now, his expression softening. This time I’m the one who leans in for a kiss. He responds, sucking and nibbling on my lips. The kiss soon turns aggressive and we’re soon struggling to gain control.

His head dips into the crook of my neck and he nibbles on my neck, pulling my skin between his teeth and sucking softly on the spot. I’m almost certain he left a mark. I’m practically straddling him when a knock on the door interrupts us. I pull away quickly and stare at him for a moment. He raises a brow at me and I shake my head. I’m not expecting anyone so I wonder who could be knocking on my door so late at night.

I try to catch my breath for a minute and the knock comes again.

“Who is it?”

My voice is a bit shaky as I stare at the door awaiting a reply.

“It’s me dear.”

I recognize the voice as my grandmother’s and my eyes widen for a second, my heartbeat picking up pace. I turn to Malcolm but his expression is neutral, like he doesn’t understand the gravity of my situation.

“You have to leave,” I say, beginning to unlatch myself from him but he holds onto my arm, preventing my movement.

My eyes widen and I raise my brows at him. I open my mouth to tell him how serious I am but his lips prevent the words from coming out as he claims mine in a slow kiss. A moan unintentionally escapes me as he sucks on my lower lips, pulling it between his teeth.

The knock comes again jolting me away from him. This time I don’t even give him a warning before hopping down from his laps and literally shoving him into my closet.

I run my fingers through my hair, smoothening it, before heading for the door. I take in a deep breath, blowing air out through my mouth, before I twist the door handle. I plaster a smile as I drag open the door.

Mrs. Wyatt stands at the door, her face expressionless. Her arms are crossed underneath her bosoms and her honey brown eyes are pinned on my face. She scrutinizes me for a minute. Her eyes linger on my neck and I become conscious under her gaze.

I push my hair a bit to cover whatever she is staring and clear my throat. Her eyes snap to mine and for a moment, they’re cold and hard, almost like they are harbouring some form of hostility. The thought jabs at me and I blink to be sure I’m seeing properly.

Her eyes are softer by the time my eyelids go up and down in a swift movement; it almost seems as if I imagined the resentment in her eyes.

“G-gammy, w-what are you doing here?”

I try to maintain my shaky smile and I wonder why I’m stuttering.

“Can’t I see my granddaughter again?”

Her emphasis on granddaughter rubs me off the wrong way but I wave it aside, deciding that something is definitely up with me this evening.

“Of course you can,” I say, still trying to maintain my smile, “Come and have a seat?”

The last part comes out more as a question because for some weird reason, I’m unsure of what to say. She waves me aside with a good natured chuckle, proceeding to stagger her way into the room.

“Nonsense! There’s no need to be so formal with me.”

I breathe out an awkward chuckle to match hers, running to her side to help her get to the bed when I notice how much she keeps swaying from side to side.

“Afraid I’ll fall?” she asks the moment I hold her hands, a broad smile taking residence on her face.

Her eyes crinkle at the corners and I can almost see stars swimming in those honey brown pools of hers. I smile back, a genuine smile this time.

“I’m glad you came to see me,” I say, after helping her settle on my queen sized bed.

The cream sheets are a bit creased but she doesn’t seem to mind much.

“Of course I have to since you’ve decided to forget your old woman exists.”

I choke back my laughter, shaking my head and settling for a small smile.

“We were together this evening, Gammy.”

She scoffs, crossing her hands again. “And wasn’t that only because it was a family gathering? Otherwise, all you do is stay in your room all day or bury yourself inside the library.”

I start to object but she cuts me off.

“Anyways, down to what I came here for.”

My heart drops for a moment. Of course she only came here because she wanted something. It was stupid of me to have thought otherwise.

I nod, not trusting myself enough to use my words.

“It’s about your wedding date. I was thinking a week’s time would be fine since I still want it to be a grand wedding even though it’s happening in such a hurry and—”

“Whoa, Gammy, one minute, who said I was getting married?”

She purses her lips, narrowing her eyes at me. Her brows squeeze the flesh in between them into a line, more wrinkles denting her forehead.

“I’m the one who’s aging but you’re the one with Alzheimer’s? What do you mean by that question; didn’t you hear what the lawyer said earlier?”

She arches a perfectly shaped brow at me as she awaits an answer. I wring my fingers, trying hard to maintain her gaze—which has turned cold again—as I speak.

“I did but I never said I agreed to it. You don’t possibly expect me to get married to a stranger.”

“A stranger?” An incredulous look mars her features and she pronounces the word as if she’s speaking a foreign language. “You think he’s a stranger?”

I don’t know she’s expecting an answer until her silence stretches out for too long. I blink before looking for the best way to phrase my words.

“I’m just meeting him for the first time today so—”

“He’s the son of the man who gave you shelter, the man who took you in when you had no one on your side and you’re calling him a stranger?”

Her emphasis on the word ‘stranger’ is beginning to irk me now but I try to remain calm.

“He’s the son of the man who was like a father to me which makes him synonymous to my brother. How can I marry my own—”

She puts up a hand, halting my words.

“After much heat and pressure, graphite begins to resemble diamond but no matter how much the graphite shines; it can never be diamond. In the same way, because you were sorted out of rags and sewn into the masterpiece you think you are now, that doesn’t mean you should forget your place.

“My son took . . .” She pauses, staring at me intently now, “What word should I use? Ah han, pity. My son took pity on you. That does not make you his daughter in any way.”

I stare at her for a long time without saying anything. Tears prick my eyes and I blink them away, not wanting her to see how badly she’s affecting me.

My hands fist at my side and I try to calm my breathing. I’m used to this, it’s nothing new. It shouldn’t affect me the way it is affecting me now.

I try to console myself but the anger bubbling within me grows by the second, foaming out morbid thoughts.

“Since that’s clear now, when should the wedding be?” She smiles at me as if nothing happened. “A week should definitely be fine since it would afford us more time and that’s the only option we have. A week it is then.”

She starts getting up on her feet while she continues talking.

“Go to bed now and make sure you’re up early tomorrow morning. Your designer would be coming over to know what style you would prefer for your wedding dress. There are also a number of gowns arriving tomorrow for your engagement. There’s one customised by Versace with—”

“I’m not getting married,” I say, interrupting her.

Four words. And that’s all it took for hell to let loose.