Amara
From the moment the stylist begins, she made sure that her doll appears flawless for the ocassion, unaware that her statuette was hiding a crack in its core, feeling disconnected of the way she look and how she feels inside. The white asymmetrical off-shoulder fitted dress that is easy on the eye of others, weighs the woman who had it on, reminding her of the pressure that she was under. Each brushstroke of makeup and clasp of jewelries added another layer of a mask, hiding the chaos beneath. The stylist's flowery words and reassurances was useless for my opposing mind, defeated by the power of the unwanted engagement. The mirror imitates someone who looks graceful and elegant, but there's a compression in my chest, an increasing sensation of fear that no amount of styling can cover. The entire process was a nightmare, I am clothed with an image of someone ready to celebrate, yet inside, I am constructing a eulogy for my freedom. When everything was in place, the exterior was shining, but the inner was rotting—prepared to step into a scene I wish I could escape.
"Sir Basil would probably make every man of the town envy for having such a gorgeous wife!" I smiled bitterly, knowing he will be jealous of someone who isn't related by blood with Tatiana.
"Amara," Father's soft tap on the door echoed. "Are you ready?" I took a deep breath, thinking if I should answer him or jump off this window and plan my escape.
"Just wait a minute, Dad!" I answered. The situation had taken my choice. "Can you give me a moment?" My personal stylist seemed to hesitate, as if she knew I was having a second thought of running away from the event.
"Sure!" She replied, smiling awkwardly before leaving me behind.
Will people still criticize me, knowing that I am about to get married to one of the greatest man of the nation, after finding out I was friend with a drug addict who just got raid when I was there? Will they forget my past and accept me as Basil's wife, or will they question me about what it feels to steal someone important to my sister? God must've had a reason for making this happen, I just hope that at the end of the day everything will be sorted. After several times of convincing myself that this is the only way to survive my life, I found myself walking towards the door, my hands are trembling as I turn the knob, the silence from the other side was starting to weigh my chest, making it harder for me to breathe. As soon as I stepped outside, Father swept his eyes on my head down to my toe, not searching for a beauty, but hunting for a single flaw. Without a word he turned to face the stylist to give her a nod of acknowledgment.
"Let's go, Amara, don't make the Hawthrones wait." Father said, walking ahead of me like I have a collar of a dog who's always ready to obey his master.
My eyebrows unintentionally rose when I saw my stepmother and Tatiana inside the vehicle. This woman still has the guts to bring her daughter to the announcement of marriage of Tatiana's beloved after setting her cousin to her stepdaughter. And, how come Tatiana was convinced to attend, when she couldn't even bear eating with me at the same table? The air in the car was dry, crisp with years of hatred. As we moved along the road, the engine roared, but not as loud as the silence between the passengers riding it. The distance within us was a reminder that I was tolerated, but never wanted. Even though this day is dedicated for me, they made me feel excluded, as if my existence has offended their seats. Yet, I sat near with them physically than I had been emotionally.
"Amara, whatever you are thinking right now, set those aside, and smile at everyone. This isn't just a small family dinner." Father demanded.
"What do you mean? I thought this is just a family dinner?"
"Just do as I say."
My blood ran cold, this isn't just a simple dinner between the family of the bride and the groom—it was a something much bigger. An event filled with eyes and ears of those whose approval and judgment mattered most. Father's words was drowned by the heavy thoughts pressing on my brain, and before I can even react, our vehicle came to a smooth halt, its engine fading into silence. We pulled up in front of the massive luxury hotel, where its shiny exterior reflects the golden lights brimming from the grand entrance. Every seconds, my chest is tightening from the fate that I was forced to face. From the inside, I can see a red carpet leading towards the man I never chose—Basil, dressed in a tailored black suit with a white shirt beneath, his tie in a deep muted color, and a polished black leather shoes to complete his look. He was standing at the grand entrance, his back is straight, his hands are inside his pocket, and his eyes are fixed straight into my gaze, as if he can see me through the tinted glass. The uniformed men opened the door, making the cool air from the inside stab my skin, I am now closer to the future I didn't want. The heels of my sandals touched the ground, one flash after another from different angles, sound of camera shutters clicking becomes an endless background noise, combined with the flashes like a heartbeat. In a single blink, Basil's lips touched my cheek, grabbing my hand to intertwine with his.
I can't help but glance at Tatiana, her fingers curled tightly around the handle of her bag, eyes filled with longing are fixed on someone—Basil. The view of Tatiana's prevailing sorrow, gave a strange tension knotted in my stomach. My thoughts still worries about Tatiana's feelings, suddenly Basil cut through with his sharp tone. He narrowed his eyes, confused of what pulled me out of the present. I shook my head and tucked my thoughts away.
"Smile," Basil's voice was low and barely audible, but it carries a weight that commands immediate attention. "You wouldn't want them to capture another mistake from you." His warning forced my lips to curve upward making my cheek suffer from holding the smile. Despite the uncomfortable feeling, I pushed myself more, extending the smile wider, ripping the skin on the sides of my lips.
On the other side, a woman in her sixties came rushing toward to greet us, her silver hair in soft waves, shines under the lights. Despite her age, her face still held traces of the beauty of her youth. There was an air of warmth about her, making everyone around feel instantly at ease. It was Basil's mother and behind her stood all of their family members, each one embodying the elegance and charm that complemented her warm presence.
"Oh, my dear Amara! You've grown up so well! You can knock Basil down with that stunning image of yours!" Her arms circled me with a motherly warmth, pouring me with affection that even my biological mother can't beat. Although its sincere, her embrace was suffocating, it was like a binding gesture and I desperately want to escape from it.
"Mom, she can't breathe." Basil interrupted, which I appreciated because her eagerness was making me uncomfortable.
"Oh, I'm sorry, darling! I was just very excited to meet you!"
"It's fine, Mrs. Hawthrone. I was also curious about you, and meeting you in person was one of the greatest decision my family has ever made." I smiled and leaned in to brush my cheek before her skin
"That's so sweet of you, dear! Stop with the formality, call me mom instead. You raised a well-mannered lass Mr. And Mrs. Montgomery." Basil's mother laughed softly, shifting her gaze to greet my family, and as soon as it faded her husband stepped forward from the corner.
"Hello, dear!" Mr. Hawthrone greeted.
"Good Evening, Mr. Hawthrone!" I replied, brushing my cheek against his.
"How have you been? Is everything good with your family?" Unlike Basil's mother, Mr. Hawthrone knew something about my family.
"We're fine and to be honest, everything was overwhelming." I answered.
"It's normal, your father went through the same phase as you, but look at them now, strong and surviving." He said, referring to my parents. I smiled to stop myself from exposing the secrets of my family. It is easier to let them believe what they wanted, instead of revealing the truth.
I reached out to shake the hands of each of the family members of Basil. The atmosphere was covered with high expectations, each greeting felt like an evaluation, every dialogue was another step into a world where I didn't quite belong. The heavy double doors of the main event was unfolded smoothly, exposing the wealthy guests and familiar faces from the newspapers. As we stepped forward, the room that was full of beans, suddenly turned into a soft rustles of leaves. The murmurs became visible, writing my fortune in between their conversations, eyes on me, watching every move I make. Basil moved swiftly beside me, wrapping me with his firm grip. I glanced at him, but I couldn't read his expression and his hold was not a comfort, but a reminder that our moment is seconds away, we will step on the stage to announce a future that felt more like a fate.
Without notice, Basil guided both of us together towards the front. I exerted more force to stretch my smile across the four walls of the room, the weight of their stares, their silent judgments and expectations, was pressed on me as they wait for the grand announcement. Basil stepped forward, his hand slightly loosened, but he's not letting me go, a signal of the tie we're about to disclose. The crowd was silent, waiting for the words that would set everything in motion.
"Good Evening, Everyone! Thank you all for being here tonight, despite your busy schedule." Basil started with a greeting. "Have you eaten enough to carry this huge announcement?" He asked the crowd, who answered him with laughter. "We are beyond grateful to have you here, supporting us as we move to the next step of our lives." His gaze turned to mine, he was calm but somewhat distant, as though the moment was more a formality than a genuine gesture of affection. "And now, I would like to introduce you to the woman who will soon become my wife—Seraphine Amara Montgomery!" He paused, giving the crowd a moment to digest his words. They responded with a measured elegance, their applause a rhythmic symphony of hands meeting and forks gently tapping against crystal glasses. "An angel sent by God to capture my heart, which my family also admired. We couldn't wait to begin this chapter together," His tone was clear, the words are delivered with perfection, yet I find it empty. His smile didn't quite reach his eyes as he glance at me, expecting to me act seamlessly. The crowd strike their palms together continuously, but I could feel the burden of every gaze they give me, each one observing me critically, wondering if I am good enough to become Basil's fiancée, the soon-to-be Mrs. Hawthorne. "I hope to see you all at our wedding next month. Once again, thank you and enjoy!"
Basil's arm extended around my waist, pulling me more closer to a world I never wanted to be included. His grip was solid, possessive, and though it looks affectionate to the crowd, his contact sent shivers down to my spine. The warmth of his body is different from his cold energy. The way he held me was only a part of the performance, it was an image he was making inside the audiences' mind. Even with discomfort, the smile never left my face. I am now bound to him by the future that everyone expects to believe.
After the announcement, both of us are surrounded with congratulatory words, I replied to them using a polite smile and gracious nod, then greeted the wave of guests one-by-one, while Basil next to me was entertaining the visitors with his practiced charm. As the crowd flows, I move through them like a bot with repetitive exchanges, same words, same responses, again and again. This is only the beginning of a role that I have zero options, a part of my life that restricts my freedom. If only I could revert my past, I should've just booked a one way ticket to another country and changed my name, instead of acting like a stupid hero, forcing myself to accept this marriage as my last chance to save myself from the issue regarding my circle with drugs, and my family's only way to prevent Tatiana from her sexual relationship with his uncle.
"Excuse me, I need to go to the restroom real quick." It was the least thing I could do to survive the night, I felt suffocated by the lies of this deal. Basil wanted to accompany me, but I refused to his offer. I can't take it anymore, how can a wise and mature man, like him has the courage to deceive people effortlessly, as if he was born to adapt to this kind of situation?
With a tense smile and crooked appetite, I slipped away from the scene not to lock myself in the restroom, but to seek shelter in the cool air of the night at the highest level of the building—rooftop. I walk towards the edge, looking down at the busy city on the ground that felt like a different world. Being alone once again, like I am used to, soothes every organ in my system, I could finally breathe without feeling to explode from the pressure I was placed into. I closed both of my eyelids and wrapped my arms around my body, as if I was protecting myself from more than just the breeze—the expectations of the individuals everywhere. The air whispered softly to comfort my skin, having no one else in this kind of situation, eases my mind. The silence was broken by the rhythm of the steps, growing louder as it comes closer to my side. My breathing was suspended in my throat when I heard the faint sound of footsteps echoing across the rooftop. The rooftop that was once a place for serenity, now disturbed by the presence of someone else, unseen but near.
"Hey, Basil's fiancée!" A man asked with the same deep tone as Basil, but a little energetic.
I turned to face him, and to my surprise our lips are just an inch away from touching. His sharp jawline and high cheekbones gave him a reason for his confidence, however it was his playful grin that captured all of my attention. The corner of his lips curled up with a teasing smirk, as if he found something amusing about how close we stood. I can already feel his warm breath brushing against my skin, sending a stirring tension between our distance.
"Amara, right?" He asked, leaning more closer, as if he was aware of the effect he had on me, but I refused to let it get me. I pushed him with all my strength, yet he remained rooted to the ground, forcing me to move backwards while he stood there, tall and composed, laughing like it was a nice joke. The sound of his laughter burned my cheek with frustration. His wide grin and teary eyes are the proof that he was enjoying my reaction, an entertainment for his side.
"Weirdo!" I screamed, and was about to leave him behind, when I felt his hands on my forearm, and before I can even speak, he pulled me closer to his side.
"You haven't answered me yet." He said, observing me from my head down to my toe. It was slow, as if he was assessing every inch of me, like he was studying my body. "Now, I understand why Basil accepted the proposal of your parents." My eyebrows furrowed, confused of his words.
"Let me go!" I screeched, shaking my hands off of his. "What the fuck is your problem? What do you want from me!?" This man is seriously getting into my nerves, no one has ever annoyed me like he does.
"You." His playful emotion quickly turned intense, the naughtiness in his eyes was replaced with seriousness. He straightened his stance, and the usual confidence he showed earlier shifted into something more controlling, almost intimidating. "By the way, I'm Alexander Cross Hawthrone, Basil's cousin." He gently took my hand and brought it closer to his lips, his warm and careful touch was un-hypocritical compared to his cousin's frozen palms.
"I—I'm Seraphine Amara Montgomery." I replied.
"I know. Why are you alone here anyway? Where's Basil?" He asked.
His questions were answered by the sound of the footsteps of the man he was looking for—Basil suddenly appeared into the light of the moon, from empty expression to confusion, his gaze narrowed at Alexander's hands on the tip of my fingers.
"Amara? What are you doing here?" Basil asked, never letting go of his eyes on Alexander's hand.
"Speaking of the devil," Alexander whispered, as he set my fingers free. "What do you think we are doing?" He asked, playfully.
"Let's go, Amara." Basil bridged the distance between us, his grip was quick, an urgency to keep me away from someone, as if he was trying to save me from an unknown threat. Despite the coolness of the night's air, I can feel the heat escaping out of his body.
"What's with the hurry, cuz? Aren't you happy that I'm back?" His words remained in the air as Basil stresses his grip against my wrist, pulling me out of Alexander's sight.
As soon as we reached the stairs beneath the rooftop, he released his hold by tossing my hands away from his, leaving a red mark, turning to face his back to level my eyes. His boring eyes, now held a variety of emotions—disappointment, confusion, and a hint of betrayal.
"I am certain that you are aware of what will happen if the media sees you with another man, right? Or maybe you like the idea of being caught flirting with my cousin?" He asked, making things up based on what he just witnessed, becoming a little too dramatic.
I suppressed a small laugh, eyes are sparkling with amusement. What he saw earlier seemed far from the disaster he was making it out to be. The thought of my name spreading in gossip headlines for standing next to his cousin after announcing our marriage was ridiculous, almost fictional.
"For your information, I was alone up there in the first place, searching for comfort in the air that I couldn't find in that event that was toxicated with lies! And why do you even care? I'm sure you'd be happy if they discovered me having an affair with another man!"
"Stop acting like a brat, Amara. You're not a child anymore, you are soon to be a wife. Learn to handle your emotions, you're not the only one suffering here." Basil shifted his gaze away, his jaw tightened, and his hand ran through his hair. The silence hung between our space. After a deep breath, he finally looked back, his eyes sharper, voice lower, carrying the weight of everything he's been holding back as he spoke again. "Let's go, I'll send you home." He said in a calm tone.
Despite the heaviness of his statement, his calm tone cut through my defenses, I was stunned by the softness of his voice. It was deactivating—how he could be both tender and savage at once, like he was holding me responsible, and still being worried. A lump floated in my throat, but I ingested it, refusing to show him my weakness. However, it was obvious in my eyes, with a single blink the pain I was holding, breaks free. I wanted to protest, to throw back words that would prove my side, but somehow, standing there under his steady gaze, felt like a cage.