Just as John peered inside, the anticipation built, Rohit rose from his seat, his anxiety evident in his posture. John's heart skipped a beat, his mind racing with questions. 'Is everything right here?'
A moment of silence settled over the room with an audience of about twenty members present in the house. The atmosphere was thick with expectation, the air heavy with the scent of roses and the faint hint of polished wood.
The guest room was a marvel of elegance and opulence. Chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, casting a warm, golden glow over the room.
The arrangement of the room spoke volumes about the significance of the day. Rows of chairs, draped in white satin, were meticulously aligned, and the floor was covered in a lush, red carpet.
At the front, an altar-like structure was bedecked with fresh flowers and ornate decorations. It was clear that a grand function was to be held here. This was no ordinary meeting; it was a marriage ceremony set to take place.
John felt a wave of realization wash over him. He had been summoned for what he thought was a mere discussion, but it was indeed a day for him and Glays to be bound together in matrimony.
His seat had been meticulously arranged and decorated, a space set apart with a sense of reverence and solemnity. Next to it, a seat for Glays was equally adorned, its placement indicating the significance of the occasion. She had been dressed in a stunning white gown, her hair elaborately styled, her face a picture of reluctant beauty.
Glays was a vision, a beautiful young woman of about 19 years old. Her large, expressive eyes were framed by long lashes, and her lips, though set in a firm line, hinted at the softness beneath. Her skin was smooth, and her demeanor, while reserved, exuded a quiet strength.
Yet, despite her outward beauty, her facial expression was one of discontent. She sat rigidly, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, betraying her inner turmoil.
John's thoughts raced. How could this be happening without his knowledge? The intricate details of the decorations, the attendees' formal attire, everything screamed that this event had been planned for a long time.
He glanced around, noticing the mix of emotions on the faces of those present. Some looked excited, others curious, and a few, like him, seemed bewildered.
Suddenly, the room filled with the sound of a historic song, a traditional melody meant for a marriage day ceremony. The harmonies were rich, the lyrics filled with tales of love and union. The audience joined in, their voices rising in unison, creating an atmosphere of celebration and reverence.
As the song reached its crescendo, two young men emerged from an antechamber, carrying decorations of flowers and garlands. They approached John, their faces alight with excitement.
With a flourish, they draped him in the floral adornments, transforming him into a makeshift groom. John looked at the unfolding drama with a mix of bewilderment and resignation. He knew he had to maintain his composure; Tyron had instructed him to keep quiet and pretend ignorance, taking mental notes of everything that transpired.
One of the young men chuckled, patting John on the shoulder. "Look at you, all dressed up! You make quite the handsome groom, don't you think?"
John forced a smile, his mind still reeling. "I guess so. It's all a bit overwhelming, to be honest."
The other young man laughed. "Oh, come on, John! This is the moment everyone's been waiting for. Just enjoy it!"
John nodded, trying to play along. "Sure, I'll try my best."
After the song ended, an elderly man rose from his seat. His presence commanded attention, his white hair visible beneath a distinguished hat. His suit was immaculate, a deep shade of navy blue, tailored to perfection.
He had a grandfatherly aura, his voice carrying a weight of authority and tradition. "Today," he began, his voice resonating through the room, "we gather to honor a promise made long ago. This day has been awaited with great anticipation and is held in the highest regard."
Tyron, seated beside John, exchanged glances with him, a silent reminder to stay vigilant. The tables around them were laden with an array of drinks, typical of stylish celebrations. There were pitchers of iced tea, glasses of lemonade, sparkling water, and a selection of fine wines and champagne.
The old man continued, he introduced the marriage agreement that had been kept secret for so long between the families. He unfolded a parchment, its edges worn with age, and began to read aloud.
"By the terms agreed upon by Faruk Francisco and Isabella Francisco, parents of John, and Henry and Vicky, parents of Glays, we hereby recognize and affirm the union of their children in holy matrimony."
John felt a chill run down his spine. The names of his parents, Faruk and Isabella Francisco, echoed in his mind. He looked at Glays, who seemed equally trapped by the weight of the tradition bearing down on them.
As the old man spoke, John's mind drifted to the past, recalling his parents and the lives they led. The room seemed to fade away, replaced by memories of family gatherings, laughter, and the warmth of his mother's embrace.
Yet, those happy memories were tainted by the knowledge of their untimely demise, a secret he had to keep buried deep within him for then.
The old man's voice droned on, detailing the terms and conditions of the marriage agreement. John's eyes glazed over, his attention split between the present and his thoughts. He could see Tyron out of the corner of his eye, silently urging him to stay focused. He straightened up, tuning back into the words being spoken.
"And so," the old man concluded, "we honor this agreement, binding John and Glays in a union that unites our families and strengthens our bonds. May this day be remembered for generations to come."
A round of applause erupted, the sound almost deafening. John forced a smile, his mind racing with plans and contingencies. He knew he couldn't let this proceed as intended.
He glanced at Glays, who looked equally determined. Their eyes met, and in that moment, an unspoken understanding passed between them. They were in this together.
As the ceremony continued, John found himself being led through a series of traditional rites. He went through the motions while plotting his next move.
Glays played her part as well, her reluctance masked by a facade of compliance. They were both skilled actors in this grand charade, each gesture a calculated act of defiance.
Tyron remained a steady presence by John's side, providing silent support. He occasionally whispered words of encouragement, reminding John of their plan. "Stay calm," Tyron would say. "We're almost there."
The celebration carried on, with more songs, dances, and speeches. The guests seemed oblivious to the tension simmering beneath the surface. They toasted to the couple's future, exchanged pleasantries, and indulged in the feast laid out before them.
Finally, the moment John had been dreading arrived. The old man called for silence, preparing to bless the couple. John felt a knot form in his stomach. This was it, the point of no return.
But just as the old man raised his hands to offer the blessing, a commotion erupted in the room. Whispers filled the air, and John seized the opportunity. He leaned in close to Glays, his voice a low whisper. "Now's our chance. Are you ready?"
Glays nodded, her eyes filled with resolve. "Let's do this."
Together, they stood up, causing a ripple of surprise to spread through the room. The old man paused, his hands still raised, his expression one of confusion. John took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, his voice strong and clear, "there has been a misunderstanding. This marriage cannot proceed."
Gasps of shock echoed around the room, but John pressed on. "We respect the traditions and the agreements made by our families, but Glays and I cannot enter into this union under any pretenses. I have ny own pleasure to live, and I must honor that."
The room fell into a stunned silence. John could feel the weight of their gazes, but he stood firm. Glays stepped forward, her voice steady. "We appreciate the love and support of our families, but we must choose our own path and have the chance to chose our partners."
The old man looked taken aback, his authority challenged. For a moment, it seemed as though chaos might erupt, but Tyron stepped in, his presence commanding attention. "Let us all take a moment to reflect," he said, his tone soothing. "This is a day of celebration, and we should respect the wishes of John and Glays."
Before Tyron could continue, Rohit roared and rose from his sit."What? I beg your pardon Mr. Tyron... Are you inciting instead of mediating!"