Camilla made her way to where Emily sat, gracefully sinking into the chair next to her.
"Sorry I took so long," she apologized, a small smile playing on her lips.
"No worries, I understand," Emily replied, her voice soothing and understanding.
"I hope Frederick didn't give you too much trouble," Camilla asked, a hint of concern in her voice.
"Oh, he was insufferable, but I didn't let him get to me," Emily said, her eyes flashing with irritation.
"I'm sorry you had to deal with that," Camilla sympathized.
"Don't worry, I know he's only interested in my looks, not me as a person," Emily said matter-of-fact.
"Of course, the way Frederick and Casey were looking at each other, it was as if they were struck by Cupid's arrow, when I introduced them. The spark between them was undeniable, the vibes were off the charts, for sure," Camilla explained and they both giggled as they licked their ice cream.
"Sometimes I wonder if he's a Playboy, a Casanova, I don't think he knows what he really wants, guess he wants to have it all" Emily said.
"You shouldn't waste your time thinking about him, he's not worth it," Camilla answered.
"Appearances can be deceiving," Emily began, her eyes thoughtful. "Sometimes the people who seem the most perfect on the outside are hiding the darkest secrets on the inside. You can never know what someone is truly like until you get to know them, but sometimes by then it's too late. And even then, they can change and you can never predict how."
"Yeah, you've got some real insight," Camilla said, sounding impressed.
"Yeah," she answered still bothered about the whole contract marriage arrangement.
"So I was thinking that since it's a contract marriage, I doubt it'll last more than maybe six months, and then you can get a divorce if you're not happy," Camilla said as she spoke with a casual air, but Emily could hear the concern beneath her words.
"Yeah, I'd hold onto that," Emily agreed, her voice hopeful but hesitant. "But do you think it'll really only be six months?"
Camilla pondered the question for a moment, considering her answer carefully. "I can't say for sure, but I think we should have faith that things will work out for the best," she said, her voice warm and reassuring.
Emily looked at her phone, the screen lit up with an incoming call. She knew who it was without looking at the number. It was her parents, calling again. She felt her frustration rising, and she knew she couldn't take another conversation with them right now. So she declined the call and and let out a sigh of relief.
"Let me guess, your parent," Camilla said. "Yeah," she responded.
"But don't you think you should talk to them?" Camilla asked, voice full of concern.
"I have nothing to say to them," Emily replied, her tone defeated.
"So, what are you going to do with the ring?" Camilla asked, her curiosity piqued.
"I'm not sure, but I'm definitely not wearing it," she replied, her voice tinged with uncertainty.
"Yeah, your reaction said it all," Camilla joked as they both burst out laughing at the absurdity of the situation, but they knew it was no laughing matter.
As they left the ice cream shop, they felt lighter, their spirits lifted by the sweet, creamy goodness of their frozen treats.
"I think the ice cream helped," Camilla said, a smile on her face.
"Yeah, I think you're right," Emily agreed, the corner of her mouth turned up in a tiny smile.
Camilla invited Emily back to her apartment, where they spent the next few hours talking and laughing, trying to lift Emily's spirit. Camilla was determined to help her friend forget about the contract and all the baggage that came with it.
They shared stories, and jokes, reminisced about old times, and ate snacks until they were stuffed. By the time Emily left, she felt a little lighter, a little less weighed down by the burdens of her life.
Emily walked through the door of her apartment, she sat down on the couch, glancing at the table where the ring and letter still sat, untouched. She made a conscious decision not to touch them, to put them out of her mind for the moment.
As the afternoon wore on, she made herself a simple lunch, enjoying the quiet time alone. She turned on the TV, mindlessly scrolling through channels until she found a movie she liked.
She let the images and sounds wash over her, losing herself in the frictional world on the screen. By the time night fell, she felt a little more at peace, a little less weighed down by her troubles.
As she got ready for bed, she thought about the contract marriage one last time. With a heavy heart, she knelt down beside her bed and began to pray.
"Oh Lord, I came to you humbly, asking that you put an end to the plans of contract marriage in my life. I know that it is not what you have in store for me, and I ask that you cancel any such arrangements or meetings that have been made. I place my trust in you, and I know that you will answer my prayers. I say this with a grateful heart and a spirit of hope, Amen."
As she finished her prayer, she climbed into bed, ready to face whatever the future held.
The sun shone through the window, rousing Emily from her slumber. She stretched her arms and yawned, her mind already jumping to the tasks of the day ahead.
She rose from her bed, energized by the morning light and the promise of a new day. As she started her morning routine, the thoughts of her upcoming classes danced through her head as she brushed her teeth and took her bath. She dressed and packed her bag, taking a moment to enjoy the peace of the morning before leaving her room.
As she descended the stairs, she felt a sense of anticipation, ready to take whatever the day might bring. Over a quick breakfast of toast and jam, she chatted with Camilla on the phone. They talked about the day ahead, sharing a laugh over their mutual anxiety about the upcoming tests.
By 8 a. m., she was fully caffeinated and ready to face the world, with Camilla's words of encouragement ringing in her ears.
"Everything's in order," she said aloud, reviewing her mental checklist. Then it hit her - the project! She dashed into her design room, rummaging through piles of sketches and materials until she found the elusive papers.
"Phew," she sighed, feeling a surge of accomplishment as she looked at her work.
The room was a feast for the eyes, a veritable paradise of color and texture. Fabric swatches were pinned to corkboard, arranged by hue and patterns. Sketchbooks over flowed with ideas, brimming with possibilities.
Light streamed through the windows, illuminating a dizzying array of paint chips and sample palettes. The walls were crowded with inspirations - magazine clippings, photographs, and magazine tear sheets.
The air was scented with the aroma of paints, markers, and other art supplies, a heady perfume of creativity. The floor was a sea of thread, yarn and other materials, a tangible testament to her artistry.
A sewing machine hummed in the corner, a faithful companion in her creative process. A stereo played music, the perfect soundtrack to her work. Everything about the room exuded inspiration, an oasis of imagination and expression.
Her cosmetology equipment was neatly arranged, with makeup brushes and applicators lined up in perfect order. Cosmetic jars and tubes were labelled and organized, creating a rainbow of color on the shelves.
Hair styling tools were displayed with precision, ready for any task. The room itself was spacious and well - lit, a perfect environment for creativity. The walls were lined with mirrors, reflecting the vibrant colors and textures of the space.
Her makeup collection was a masterpiece of artistry, a veritable rainbow of colors and textures. Foundation, concealer, and blush were arranged in perfect symmetry, like a work of art. Eye-shadow palettes in every shade imaginable were carefully aligned, a spectrum of possibility. Eyeliner, mascara, and other tools of the trade were all within easy reach, ready for any makeup look.
There were hair dryers, neatly lined up in a row, their cods coiled and tucked away. Next to them were straightening irons, curling wands, and other heat tools, ready to create any look. Combs and brushes of every shape and size were neatly organized, their bristles glistening in the light. And of course, there were hair products galore, from shampoos and conditioners to gels and sprays. The room was magnificent in all.
She made her way downstairs, her footsteps echoing through the empty house. She carefully placed the sketch in her bag, taking care to make sure it was well - protected.
She could hear the faint sounds of traffic outside as she opened the front door and stepped onto the porch. She waved to the taxi driver, who gave her a friendly smile as she claimed into the back seat. She settled in, taking a moment to collect her thoughts before the journey began.
It was smooth and peaceful, soon they arrived at the university. The morning light was just beginning to break through the clouds as she stepped out of the taxi, her bag slung over her shoulder. She gazed up at the grand, imposing building that was her school, feeling a sense of trepidation and anticipation. The air was crisp and cool, a fresh start to the day.
Asterisk university was a grand, sprawling complex, surrounded by lush green lawns and stately trees. The buildings were made of dark atones, with soaring towers and intricate details.
The campus was bustling with activity, students rushing to and fro, their voices echoing through the halls. She made her way to her classroom, which was a bright, airy space with high windows and polished floors. Inside, the desks were arranged in neat rows, and there was a whiteboard at the front of the room.
In no time, the door creaked open, and a tall, imposing figure stepped into the room, casting a shadow across the floor. The class hushed as the lecturer spoke, her voice deep and commanding.
"Greetings, students," she said, her gaze sweeping across the room.
As the students settled into their seats, the atmosphere in the room was charged with anticipation. The lecturer continued, her voice clear and confident.
"The time has come to submit your projects for evaluation, and the results will determine your grade for this portion of the course."
The class was asked to sketch the design of a dress, using their creativity and imagination to bring their vision to life. They were told to use only pencil and paper, with no fancy embellishments or frills.
Her eyes scanned the rows of desks, and the students held their breath, waiting for her next words. "We will begin with the students in the first row. Please bring your projects to the front of the class, and place them on the table." The first student stood, clutching her project nervously.
While the rest of the class was busy submitting their projects, Emily's thought were a million miles away, consumed by the burden of her arranged marriage. The contract loomed large in her mind, casting a shadow over her every thought. She barely registered when it was her turn to approach the table, her gaze fixed on a distant point, lost in a world of worry and uncertainty.
"Who's next?" The lecturer asked, her voice echoing through the silent classroom.
There was no answer, only the rustling of paper and the shuffling of feet as the students shifted in their seats. The lecturer frowned, her eyes scanning the room. Then, she spotted the person who should have been next in line, but who was sitting motionless, a far away look in her eyes.
"Miss Emily Kevan," the lecturer called out. "Emily Kevan," the lecturer called out again, louder this time.
As the class fell silent, the girl next to Emily suddenly gave her a nudge.
"Hey, are you even listening?" She whispered, a note of concern in her voice. But Emily was lost in her thoughts, oblivious to the world around her. Suddenly, without meaning to, the words "Yes! Marriage!" Tumbled from her lips. The class erupted into laughter, and Emily's cheeks flushed Scarlet as she realised what she had just said.