Amara
The relentless buzzed of my phone's notification pulled me out of the bed. Its screen lights up with each notifications, headlines, and messages that is not possible to ignore. With a wobbly sigh and a small stretch, I reached out for it on the table beside my bed. My jaw dropped, as soon as I unlock it, my inbox was a plague of congratulatory texts, well-wishes, and curious questions regarding the upcoming marriage. However, when I scrolled deep through the notifications, my chest squeezes with how quickly admiration turned to disgust.
"How could she? After everything that happened at her friend's club?"
"What kind of witchcraft did she use to make Basil's family agree to this?"
The disapproval crashed in, harsh and insulting, analyzing every aspect of my life alongside the controversy that had broken out. I could imagine their fingers flying in their screens as they type their opinions. I wanted to scream at them, to inform them that I have no choice over the fate I was set to live. Instead, I sat still, defeated by feeling more like a bad guys in someone else's story, than a superhero of my own.
A soft knock started hitting my door, "Ms. Amara, breakfast is ready!" It was Rosita.
I was about to stand out of my bed when I felt my head with a sudden painful discomfort, followed by a sting on my bruised knees. Looking down at the bandages, a wave of memories from last night struck me hard—Dancing on top of the table, Basil's serious face as he called me down, the way he lifted me effortlessly through the crowd, bringing me home, and even carrying me up to my room.
"I'll come down in a bit!" I replied.
I pushed myself up slowly despite my throbbing head and twisted stomach with embarrassment. How could I be so reckless? And, of all people, why did it have to be Basil? I felt little as I realized how much he had seen of my vulnerable side. I knew that he is unavoidable, but I hope I wouldn't see him just this day. If only the ground was hungry, I would be glad to be eaten than to face him today.
Rosita's knuckles about to knock for the second time hung mid-air as I opened the door of my room. "Good morning, Ms. Amara!" she greeted, then held out a few items. "I believe you need these?" she added uncertainly.
"Thank you, Rosita." I replied, accepting the glass of water and a pill in the tray.
I took everything in my mouth and rushed downstairs without a second thought. Only to regret and curse myself for not taking a few minutes to freshen up. I hesitated at the opened door of the dining room, but it was too late to fix my state—tousled hair, headache, and no oral hygiene. All I want is to ease the pain in my head, but here I am standing in front of the man I am about to be married and my in laws. The teasing look in Basil's eyes made me want to run back upstairs and his parent's amused smile only worsen my embarrassment.
"Good morning..." I greeted with a low tone.
"Rough night?" Basil asked with a chuckle, infecting everyone in the room to laugh.
"Didn't know a boomer could make a joke." I responded, taking a seat in front of him.
His smile became wider. "Just making sure you're still alive after last night's... performance." He shot me with a sly look and an annoying voice that made me want to throw him a sliced lemon in his eyes.
Basil's mother was watching our exchange with a smile, entertained by the tension between her son and her daughter-in-law. "Well, isn't it nice to see you both getting along so well," She interjected. "Almost like... a married couple already."
Basil and I suddenly froze by the last comment of his mother, it sinks in like an unexpected flow of awkwardness. The teasing conversation moments ago vanished and replaced by silence. "What? Did I say something wrong?" Mrs. Hawthrone asked innocently.
"Perhaps, they've come to realize that they're already behaving like husband and wife." My father answered.
The piece of bacon I was eating got caught in my throat, making my eyes widen as I coughed desperately, gasping for air. Panic rose as I tried to clear my throat, feeling the sting of the elders' eagerness. Suddenly, Basil reached out, offering me a glass of water. I took it, and when our hands brushed, an unexpected spark struck me. I looked down trying hard to hide the redness on my cheeks while I take a few sips of water. The moment I finally managed myself, the surrounding suddenly became quiet, everyone watching me with concern and amusement. I set the glass down and took a quick glance at Basil who was also observing me with his teasing smile.
"What?" I murmured, he shook his head before turning back to his plate.
Something was off with Basil, I couldn't avoid but to compare his coldness last night to his playfulness today or maybe he was just acting his part cause his parents were here. All of a sudden, I felt frustrated realizing he's likely doing these to keep his character as my fiancé to prove something to his parents, for it will give him benefits.
"Amara," Father called. "Once you're done eating, go freshen up. You'll be joining your in-laws for the final fitting of your gown. Your mother and I can't go—I have an important meeting to attend, while she's at the office dealing with a situation."
"Is that fine with you, darling?" Mrs. Hawthrone asked, more concerned than my own family.
"Of course, m-mom!" I answered, hesitant with the name I called her.
"Great then!" She exclaimed, voice mixed with satisfaction and excitement.
Throughout the breakfast, the elders discussed about the various details of Basil and I's future together after marriage, their conversation includes where we should reside and what assets and obligations each of us would receive. The information and expectations overwhelmed me, the thought of not fulfilling my role in the marriage felt suffocating.
After digesting the last bite of my meal, I excused myself to escape and went upstairs to get ready. Looking at myself in the mirror, I had lost all hope and I wasn't even able to think of any way to stop this arrangement. The idea of moving out from my toxic household, but living under the same roof as Basil had left me thinking of which one is better.
In the end, neither of the option is appealing to my sense. Each road has its own advantages and disadvantages. Living in a toxic household is comfortable, yet emotionally draining. On the other hand, life with a husband in a forced marriage means new beginning, but carries uncertainty and conflict.
To start the day, I chose a cream-colored, collared blouse paired with a high-waisted, fitted skirt in warm beige that fell just below the knee, finishing the look with nude stiletto heels. A Gold earrings, a delicate necklace, and a bracelet to add a touch of elegance, while the light makeup subtly enhanced my natural features. Satisfied with my appearance, I left the room and began descending the stairs. With each step, my heart raced as I noticed Basil and his family watching me intently. I couldn't tell if they were silently judging me or sincerely admiring my look.
"Uhm... Is my outfit inappropriate for the place?" I asked, couldn't stand my negative thoughts.
"Not at all, dear. You look absolutely lovely—perfectly appropriate for the occasion," She reassured with her usual warm smile. "In fact, you'll fit right in and stand out beautifully at the same time. Right, Basil?" She added.
My gaze shifted to Basil, who let his eyes sweep over me, slowly, from head to toe, "Yes." He answered simply.
"Boring!" Mr. Hawthrone taunted his son's uninspiring response, "You look absolutely fine, dear!" He continued.
I gave them a genuine smile, "Thank you so much," I said, eyes shining with appreciation. "That really means a lot to me."
"So, what are we waiting for? Let's go!" Mr. Hawthrone said with an excited tone.
As we begin to make our way out of the house, I was slightly stunned when Mrs. Hawthrone linked her arm through mine. The gesture shocked my system, yet it felt warm and genuine, making me feel included in a way that didn't feel forced, but truly heartfelt.
"You're even pretty up close," She said, staring directly in my eyes.
No one had ever clung to me like Basil's mother did—not even my stepmother, who always kept her distance. It felt surreal, this sudden warmth, as if I were experiencing something I had never known before, and if she will continue to act this way, I would probably become attached to her in an unexpected way. There was mix of comfort and risk in my heart—refuge in the kindness and doubt in relying on the tenderness. I somewhat felt like I belong to their family, but frightened about where this bond would take me.
Outside the house, the sky was gray and heavy, a cool breeze blowing the leaves as if whispering an upcoming rain. We climbed into the six-seater car, with Basil's parents seated behind the driver, while Basil and I took the middle row. He remained silent beside me, his attention locked on his phone, while Mr. and Mrs. Hawthorne chatted about their company's latest activities.
As the drive went on, boredom crept in, and my thoughts began to roam, searching for something to entertain my mind. I have an idea—I leaned the back of my head on the headrest to pretend sleeping, then took the opportunity to peek at what Basil was doing on his phone. Suddenly, I felt an intense sense of betrayal as I saw my sister's name on his screen. My chest tightened—Couldn't he show a bit more respect for this day? Our wedding is a stone's throw away and we are currently on our way to the bridal shop, yet he couldn't let go of Tatiana. I knew this marriage was nothing more than a business deal, an arrangement between two families for mutual benefit, but isn't it unfair that I had distanced myself from my suitor for the sake of this engagement, while he still clung to his connection with his ex-fiancée?
A couple of minutes had passed and we finally arrived at the Elysian Bridal Couture. Basil extended his hand to help me get out of the vehicle, but I ignored it, and noticed a short flicker of surprise on his face before he let it pass. For the second time he reached for my hand to intertwine it with his, and I have no choice but to accept it, for the boutique owner stepped forward to greet us with a wide smile. Everyone around us believed we were in love, so we had no other options but to play our parts convincingly. The grand door of the shop unfolded to reveal a world of pure elegance, glowing with crystal chandeliers, and a scent of fresh flowers blended with soft vanilla.
A woman in her sixties, dressed in a tailored navy blue dress that highlighted her elegant exterior, approached us with an open arms. "Hawthornes! It's wonderful to see you again!" she exclaimed, greeting Mr. and Mrs. Hawthrone with a warm embrace, brushing her cheek against theirs. She paused then shifted to me, studying me with a smile, "And this must be the Montgomery's daughter—Basil's fiancée, I presume?" she asked, her tone both curious and welcoming.
Mrs. Hawthrone smiled proudly, and led me forward with gentleness. "Yes, Elysia, this is Amara," she confirmed. "We're so excited for her fitting today!"
Her eyes suddenly glowed as she took my hand. "Oh, my dear, it's such a pleasure to meet you! I've heard so much about you. You have such a lovely presence—I can already tell you'll look stunning in any gown you choose," she said. Then, with a playful smile on her lips, she looked at Basil. "You've certainly chosen well, Basil. You must be thrilled."
Basil's hand slid from my palm to the small of my back as he gave a polite smile. That unexpected touch sent a shock through my nervous system, leaving me momentarily breathless. "Yes, we're both looking forward to it." He replied with ease.
"Well then, let's not waste any time," Mrs. Elysia stated, eagerly clapping her hands together. "I have some breathtaking gowns prepared just for you, Amara. Let's make this a memorable day!"
We were escorted into a private room filled with stunning wedding gowns and tuxedos, each one waiting for us to try on. The dresses inside were said to be crafted and designed specifically for me and Basil. As we entered, Mrs. Elysia began to explain each gown's details, while the Hawthrones and I carefully examined the fabrics and designs, feeling the textures, imagining what would bring me the most comfort and confidence as I walked down the aisle.
I tried on each gown one by one, stepping out of the dressing room to receive nods of approval and warm comments from Basil's parents. Meanwhile, Basil stood in a commanding stance few feet away, arms crossed over his chest. His posture conveyed authority, a silent but dominating presence. Yet, it was his eye contact that caught my attention—serious and almost devouring, slowly roaming over me, like he was taking in every detail, to attempt to understand my thoughts or determine how I was responding to this experience. I held my breath as his stare stayed on me, making me feel an odd combination of discomfort and an unexplainable magnetic draw.
All the gowns suited me well, each one was beautiful in its unique way, but what captured everyone's attention, including mine, was the outstanding A-line, off-the-shoulder mermaid gown in a pure white fabric that seemed to glow under the soft lighting, its delicate lace streaming down and hugging my figure before flaring out into a flowing skirt. There was a moment of silence before the room burst into smiles and applause, with Basil's parents clapping their hands, praising the look with wide, approving grins.
Basil, however, remained on the side and stared into my eyes. There was something strange in the way he held it, an energy of something I couldn't quite identify, but his face was unreadable—his usual solid, vacant gaze. I felt vulnerable and exposed, yet oddly seen in a way I hadn't expected.
The final fitting of my wedding gown came to an end, and I made my decision, I selected the dress that had captivated everyone in the room. With my gown chosen, it was now Basil's turn to pick out his tuxedo. I returned to the dressing room to change back into my clothes, but just as I was about to ask for help, the stylist excused herself to use the restroom, leaving me alone with no one to assist in taking off the gown. I tried to call for assistance getting out of the dress, but after looking around I realized I was on my own. To my surprise, Basil went in, curious of me struggling to reach the zipper at the back.
"Let me help you." He said, his tone blended with slight amusement.
I shot him a glare. "You should leave. I can manage on my own. Besides, you might see more than you should."
"It's fine with me," He smirked, his lips turned into a teasing smile. "You should get familiar with my touch. I'll be your husband soon enough."
His sentence made my heart skipped a beat. "G-Get out!" I stuttered, my face heated with embarrassment.
He tilted his head, eyes locked onto mine. "Are you scared?" He questioned, delight shining in his smile as he moved forward.
Before I could reply, he advanced behind me and grabbed for the zipper, fingers lightly brushing my shoulder. A tremble ran down the back of my neck as I felt the gown loosen around me and the cold metal gently glides down—from my neck to the bend of my hips, his gaze followed the length of my bare back, the naked flesh.
"How can you stomach this, knowing you're still in love with my sister?" I whispered, my voice shaking
Basil paused, staring at me in the reflection of the mirror in front of us. "If I were still in love with her," he said quietly, leaning in to a small degree, "do you think I'd be standing here, helping you out of this dress instead of walking away?" He asked.
His remarks irritated me, particularly after I discovered that he was texting Tatiana next to me while I, his fiancée, sat there alone and without someone to chat to. He was trying to persuade me otherwise, but his actions betrayed his hypocrisy, which upset me. His heart still belonged to her, and I knew he was lying.
I let out a bitter laugh at his question, "Really?" I countered. "Because when I peeked at your phone earlier, you were texting her. So tell me, Basil, what exactly am I supposed to believe?" Basil hesitated for seconds, trying to search for an answer. "See?" With a sarcastic laugh, I grinned, "You can't even respond to my question." Just as he was about to open his mouth to speak, the stylist returned with a wide eyes.
"Oh my!" The stylist was surprised, tried to hide it with a nervous smile, "I didn't mean to interrupt. Oh, well... I just returned to assist with the gown. Should we get back to it?" She asked shifting her gaze from Basil to mine, pretending to ignore the tension between us.
I faked a tight smile, slightly turning away from Basil, "It's fine, I'm done. I just need a little help getting out of the gown." I said with a smooth and low tone.
Basil took a step back and cleared his throat. "I'll leave you to it," he muttered as he excuse himself. "I'll be in the next dressing room." He added before leaving me alone with the stylist.
My chest twisted with unresolved emotions and disappointment as my mind replayed Basil's words again and again. It was impossible to ignore the intensity of his stare, the way he stood so close behind me, and his insistence that he didn't love Tatiana anymore. Yet, it wasn't his gentle tone that lingered—it was his silence that unsettled me the most. When I finally got the courage to confront him, he stumbled, the truth caught on his tongue, unspoken. That moment of hesitation, the way he delayed, left a sour aftertaste I couldn't get rid of.