The world is sinking. That's how it felt like whilst July stood there, out of her consciousness, as though she was high over something. July couldn't feel her weight against the floor, she was floating away. She wondered if it was the correct reaction.
She stood there as the party continued. She could almost laugh – the party went on after the announcement shattered her whole being, and she felt as though her soul departed from her physical being. As though it wasn't her life that they were messing with. The words streaming out of Mrs Mctyler's mouth slipped unappreciated by her ears.
"Oh, have I told you that my son here, won the supreme student election at Marygoldstein University?" Mrs Mctyler continued, sounding prouder than ever.
Drake chuckled as he nodded his head – brimmed with his mother's remarks.
"He probably got it from his father. I see now, that it runs in the blood," Mr Watson replied, July's father. "Where does he go to college again?" He added as though he never heard it the first time.
"The University of Marygoldstein, sir," Drake replied with a smile on his face.
"Funny," said Mr Watson as he laughed. "How could I forget the school funded by our organization?"
"Aww, you must've been stressing too much – haven't you, Watson?" Mrs Mctyler asked.
"Not much," Mr Mctyler replied and took a sip of his drink.
July had no clue what she looked like as she stood there as though she was a part of the conversation. She knew she was still in shock, she bet she looked rather unpleasant – perhaps if it could scare Drake and his family away, then she'd even be thankful. She tried not to involve herself in between dialogues to ease the boiling awkwardness inside her system, yet her peripheral vision always caught Drake's eyes flinging glimpses at her.
She could almost laugh and wonder how they had come up with the idea of announcing the fixed marriage and only getting to know each other right after the announcement.
"You study politics, right?" Mr Watson asked.
"Yes, sir. I'm on my third-year undergrad," Drake replied – again throwing glances at July.
"Well, I think it's decided where you'd study this school year, July, darling," said Mr Watson as he tapped July's shoulder, snapping her out of her swirling thoughts.
"Huh?" She muttered, engulfed with confusion.
"I suggest you go to the same school where Drake goes. I think you should get to know each other, darling – besides, you've been asking me to go to the University, right?"
She'd always wanted to go to school and quit her years of home-schooling. July wanted to celebrate that finally, her father had allowed her to study beyond the walls of her home, but then she realized that the school stands mainly under the funds from her father's support. The spark of joy that kindled inside her chest died instantly as the fact sunk in. She was still within her father's easy reach – still chained to his wishes.
"Wait, wait – what?" July asked as she felt her guts feel strangled.
"We won't have to worry, because I can guarantee that Drake, here will be there for you – right, son?"
Drake smiled and shifted his sight towards her. "Of course, sir. She'll be safe with me," Drake assured.
"Dad?" July called as though giving her father another chance to change his decision.
"Well, it's settled!" Mr Watson exclaimed, feeling victorious. "I knew I could count on you," said Mr Watson as he tapped the young man's shoulder approvingly.
July's shoulder dropped as she felt her eyes sting from the threatening tears. She felt rather stupid of expecting that her father would listen to her when her whole life she'd never been heard by her father.
"Excuse me," she whispered.
She swallowed the painful lump in her throat as she walked away briskly. She could hear her heels clicking against the marble floor despite the loud orchestral music playing on the other side of the great hall of their mansion. Her jaw ached from the painful tension as she gritted her teeth. She swiftly brushed her tears with the back of her hand. Her eyes locked on the staircase leading to the second floor. She needed to be out of there. She needed space to herself. She needed somewhere quiet to think and listen to her loud thoughts instead of the loud noises of proud politicians and business tycoons.
She used to love it when galas were hosted in their mansion, but not until she was old enough to understand life. The same gala, the same people, carrying the obligation to greet her father's colleagues. She always followed instructions. Those years of strangling training on behaving accordingly around her fellow aristocrats.
The annual gala had always been an assembly event for the selected circle of elites from various countries. It had always been drinks, unsolicited advice from old drunk men and women, and conversations about controversial topics. Children of a very young age were gathered inside a mini-ballroom designed for the children, an elegant playroom for the heirs and heiresses. Young masters and mistresses would either argue and insult each other or ditch the gala and make out in the dark parts of the corridors, flirt at the balconies and the estate garden, or drive off somewhere to do whatever they want.
Gender roles have always been one of the controversial topics that hovered the atmosphere of the whole event. It was too evident even little heirs were aware of it. Little boys would eventually torment the little girls, as their mind was too absorbed by the things they heared from their fathers during sober business conversations. July herself had been a victim too.
July palmed her face as she paced back and forth on the balcony, trying to calm herself down.
"Fucking Drake Mctyler – oh I god, why – why him – I just – "
"Language, Gabriella," said a familiar voice from behind.
July shut her eyes tightly and inhaled the deepest breath she'd ever inhaled. The last thing she ever wanted that night was to hear her name slip out of his lips.
"It's July," she corrected as she turned to see him, putting on the best look of confidence she could give.
Drake leaned against the frame of the balcony entrance. His arms were crossed as his smirk became visible due to the gentle light hitting his face.
"You go by July now?" Drake asked.
"If it isn't obvious yet, yes. I prefer to be called July now," replied July, aggravation and sarcasm dripping from her lips.
"Things do change, do they? But you're still feisty as you were," said Drake as he walked towards her.
July had to pierce her sight onto his, the only way to prove to the man that she was unfazed by his company, and as he closed the gap between them, she had to look up – realizing how much he had grown. He was twelve inches away from her, looking down at her.
"I have to admit, I was expecting an arranged marriage since I was thirteen – not that I was looking forward to it, and you being the bride did not even cross my mind once, but here we are Gabriella," he paused for a chuckle, "expect the unexpected, as what they say."
His voice was deeper than it was years ago. The kindness of those puberty years had been obviously thoughtful to him.
Drake's smile faded, and his expression went blank as he walked past her and proceeded toward the balcony.
"I thought I was prepared for this, but I'm just as shocked as you are," said Drake as he looked away, watching the water dance elegantly on the enormous fountain in the middle of the Watson grounds.
July sighed and stood beside him, not too close and not too far – but sure enough to hear him speak in a low voice.
"I wonder which part of it shocked you. Was it me being the lucky bride? Or was it the arrangement itself?" July asked, observing the fountain as well.
There was a pause. A moment of silence between the two of them. Only the muffled sound of the orchestra filled the gap in the air.
"You guess," said Drake, breaking the silence.
July chuckled.
"Aren't we all aware of the huge possibility of us kids within this circle being arranged with each other for our future? We're all aware of this fixed marriage but – "
"We never know with whom," Drake finished the words for her.
"Well, you better learn how to make your sandwich, because I'm not the wife that will make a sandwich for you – unless you risk being food poisoned," said July, attempting to taint the situation with humour.
A memory came to resurface. It was the night of the annual gala hosted at the Mctyler mansion. July was nine and Drake was ten, almost eleven.
////
July was chosen by the other kids to be the pretend wife of the pretend Lord, Drake. They were playing pretend, and they were appointed as a noble couple. Like her, Drake disliked the idea of being paired up with her as well, but he took advantage of the pretend opportunity.
"Wife!" Drake called as he sat on the pretend dining table as though he just went home from his royal duties.
"Oh, my dear! You have arrived late. I bet you're tired from all that work you do for the family," said the nine-year-old July with her high-pitched voice, and yet sarcasm was thick in her tone. "Here, I made you dinner. I sure bet you are as hungry as a bear," July added as she served him real food. It was a turkey sandwich on a silver tray toy and an iced on a teacup toy.
Drake stared at the sandwich on the pink tea party table in front of him. He frowned as he observed the food. The way it was assembled was horrific. The turkey was unrecognizable.
"You don't like it?" Said July rather sadly, pouting her lips, and her eyes were glossed with tears.
"Do you expect me to eat that? Are you attempting to poison your husband?" Said Drake, still in character, though those words were real as he had no plans on tasting the unappetizing sandwich.
"But I made that for you..." whispered July, causing the other kids to worry that she might cry.
"Just eat it," said Enzo, July's cousin, and passed Drake the plate.
"Yeah! Just eat it. Gabriella might cry if you don't – she even climbed the buffet table to get that," said Diana, Drake's sister and July's closest friend.
"No, that's not from the buffet – look at it, it's gross!"
"I'm going to tell Dad!" Said July as she wiped the tear that rolled down her cheek.
"Drake is scared of a sandwich!" Enzo teased.
The pressure was heavy on the eleven years old Drake, and end up eating half the disassembled sandwich.
////
"Oh, it motivated me to make my sandwich. God, that turkey was unrecognizable – I wouldn't have eaten it if it weren't for your cousin's teasing. My poor eleven years old pride was in shambles," said Drake, now laughing at the memory.
"I was such a crybaby, oh my goodness," said July, cringing at herself.
"That sandwich sent me to the toilet several times. What did you do with it, by the way?" Drake asked as he hopped on the railing, sitting comfortably – unbothered by its height from the ground.
"I forgot, honestly," said July.
A long pause of quietness took over once more before Drake began to break it.
"That was our last gala together, wasn't it?" Drake asked, peeking over his shoulder to see July struggling to mount the railing.
He held her by the elbow and assisted her until she could settle comfortably on the cold balcony railing a ruler next to him.
"Thanks," said July, almost out of breath as she fixed her dress.
Drake responded with a quick smile.
"Your father said, you'll be going to my university next week."
"Yeah..." July whispered. Her shoulders fell.
"Don't worry, you'll like it there," said Drake.
"I hope so," replied July.
"I'll try my best to let you explore the school yourself, but you can always ask me for anything if you need my help."
"Thanks," said July.
July felt odd as she sat there with him. The way he talked softly to her and the way he assured her felt different. Something was off. She could feel it. She wondered if it was the shift in his attitude or if she judged him too harshly that his kindness felt off to absorb.
"Congratulations on winning the supreme student council elections, by the way."
"Thanks," Drake replied.