Solstice’ POV
The dilemma I have known since I was a child was to marry someone my parents chose for me: a suitable young man who would share my family background, my cultural heritage, and faith. I do not recall how old I was when I understood this concept. It wasn’t a subject we constantly deliberated but was implicitly understood without the need of it. In all honesty, I am upset with the fact that marriage has been viewed more of an obligation rather than a lifetime choice. Presumably because I longed to marry someone who would make my heart flutter or would make my palm sweat.
Late in the fall of my eighteenth birthday, my mother had been convincing me to pay attention to the marriage proposals that had come for me. And that I could probably meet some potential marriage suitors who would be a perfect fit as my husband. But I ignored her nagging and advises. I dreamed of travelling, savoring every milliseconds of my life as a maiden, start blogging, and to study another degree.
Hence, I pretended I was busy spending most of my time in my room; writing and reading tons of books from bestselling authors. Sitting in front of my bedroom window, I gaze into the dull late-afternoon sun. It was no match for the city’s blanket of viscous clouds, thickened by moderately cold and pungent smoke which promulgate the presence of a mill nearby.
“Sol, get down here!” my mother called.
“I’m coming!” I replied, putting down the book I’m reading and quickly descend the stairs.
“What is it, Mom? I was busy,” I said as I adjust the bridge of my anachronistic rimless eyeglass.
I wasn’t paying much attention to my surroundings and head over to the kitchen to get my favorite lasagna. I was about to take a seat when my mother entered giving me a strange, or somewhat angry, look.
“Someone is here for you,” she sternly uttered.
It must be Mr. Sansbury. How fool I was to never notice him! Maybe he finally decided I was the perfect fit for the job!
I immediately left the kitchen and rushed to the living room, leaving her behind. But my eyes widened in surprise when I saw a man, certainly not Mr. Sansbury, standing behind the door.
“No, it’s alright. I was on my way to my father’s resort and happen to pass by your house so I thought it would be best to formally meet your daughter. But if she’s busy, perhaps I can come back some other time,” the young man said.
Meet who? Me?
“Oh, she is here. Come here, Sol,” my father approached me.
From nowhere inside of me came this mortifying strike that tightens chest. Range of feelings—from happiness to surprise— disrupted my body. Please don’t tell me I’m getting married today. I should’ve asked my mother who was the guest! I have avoided meeting any suitors for the past months and now I instantly regretted my decision. I should probably come up with another plan to runaway.
“I have—
Before I can turn away, my mother grabbed my shoulder, smiling awkwardly, and forced me to continue walking. Five seconds after, I found myself sitting next to him on our long sectional beige sofa.
My mind was in panic and I wonder if they ever notice that I was sweating a lot. I could hear the drumroll of my heart. Never have I ever pictured myself in this scenario. My hands softened from extreme nervousness. It was as if a cold water has been poured on me. I have no courage to look at this man. How else could I stare at him in the eye. The entire room suddenly became sullen and ominous.
“So, how was your father’s business going?,” my mother initiated.
“It is thriving. He says I should take over it someday,” he replied. The warm timbre of his voice somewhat changed the atmosphere.
“Oh I’m sure you’d be great!” my mother commend.
“And will you stay here for good?” asked my father.
“Quite the opposite. I am currently working in Canada so I am here for a short while and will be moving together with my wife after our wedding,” he spoke in a perfectly calm voice and glanced over at me.
I flinched.
“Wedding?” I said looking undoubtedly surprised.
“Oh. I presumed you already know about it,” he said.
“Mom?” I looked at my mother who was apparently grinning.
“Darling, I’m sorry for not saying this to you. Every time we talk you would change the subject so we agreed to set the wedding on your behalf. It will be on Saturday.”
“Saturday? But that’s just two days from now. You agreed on this without even asking me?” my voice became unsteady. I feel deeply and thoughtlessly betrayed by my own parents.
“Mr. Seigner, please excuse us for a minute. My daughter has been quite stubborn lately,” said my mother and we head over to the kitchen.
“What is wrong with you? Haven’t you known this for a long time?,” she uttered in an exasperated voice.
“Mom, I can’t. Why do I even have to marry before my older sister?”
“Darling, everything has already been planned.”
“Why can’t you just let him marry my sister instead? They are of the same age.”
“His parents have agreed on this even when you were sixteen. This is exactly the reason why I told you to be mindful of your marriage proposals. Now this is enough, okay? No more ifs and buts. You will marry him on Saturday,” she stated in a faint yet firm voice.
“Mom please,” I begged but I received no response. She went to the living room, grinning from ear to ear. With that, I feel my soul together with my aspirations in life shattered.
“Is… everything all right?” I heard him ask.
“Yes, yes. Everything is fine. The wedding will proceed,” my mother abruptly replied. He smiled. I noticed his eyes were deep set grey. They were roundish almond and were gleaming with confidence.
“I think I should go. It has been an honor Mrs. and Mr. Bonneville. We will see each other soon,” he said and stood up.
“Send your father my regards,” my father enunciated and extended his right hand.
“I will,” he responded as he grab the hand and beamed once again.
My mother stood and gave him a quick but tight hug. He looked at me in the eye before he went out and say “I’ll see you on our wedding, Sol.” Hearing those words, I feel my heart sank and splintered into a thousand pieces. What about my dreams? I haven’t even finished my degree yet. I have nothing to be proud of myself other than being academically good.