Aurora
" Make it tighter," my mother ordered. Juliet tugged on my corset harder, like a dog on a leach.
" Ouch, mama" I winced, gasping for breath.
" You must meet your father's expectations," her voice raspy, walking out of my room.
Trauma blasted through my veins like a reggae tune. Sweat dripped my forehead, my mother's stylist made my waist invisible.
Nightmare strikes the Fabian house again.
I sat at the dinner table as he took a seat across from my mother. Her eyes couldn't blinked, she was a victim of his trauma bond.
My father's eyebrows, thin and gray, made a stern V shape.
Sixty-two years old, still fit. Marcel Fabian looked more nourishing than his mates. He runs a cosmetic business; deep down he touched dirty money. Now, a stare from him causes me to shrink in my seat.
" Stand, Aurora." He examined me with a critical eye." Your complexion is not fair enough."
"I apologize, Father." He waved me off to sit.
My childhood trauma rushed into my veins; he'd always criticized me. I could never be perfect enough for him.
" You're not worth my worries." He dipped the dumpling into the sour cream." Your mother tells me about your lack of interest in a husband."
" I don't need validation from a man."
I'm 24 years old; my parents made me feel like a 30-year-old with no ambition.
" Aurora." My mother hissed.
" Your mother loves patting your broken wing since you were little." He pours the juice into his glass. " So I have taken matters into my hands."
My eyebrows knitted, and I held the fork tight.
" Your father made a few calls- " my mother announced, facing me; her tone wasn't comfortable.
" What does that mean?" The dumpling froze between my lips.
So this is why he returned, to scold me?
" It means I have made a suitable match for you." My father dropped the bomb without waiting for the timer to go off.
My cutlery clattered on the plate, causing my mother's lips to thin.
My blood ran cold, causing me to shiver.
I must be dreaming. Is this a prank?
The dumplings was nauseating; stinging my insides, it twisted and turned.
" It was stressful on my path, but I have arranged a physical introduction." My father added.
Because he benefited from it.
" No!!"
My father loved being full of himself, but this is way above it.
" He's perfect for you. He's a CEO, rich, handsome, powerful. You two would be compatible," my mother said.
Is she also involved?
" Absolutely not!!" I disagreed.
" He has a strong interest in you."
My mother resembled a struggling actress.
" I don't care if he's the son of Zeus." I rolled my eyes. "Does Mr. Perfect have a name?" I sneered.
" Devin Moore," my father jumped in." You're traveling tomorrow by 11am to join your fiancé in the United States."
I felt disgusted. He was already calling him my fiancé when I didn't know if he had teeth.
" You're selling me out?" I stood, banging my fist against the table.
" He has offered to upscale my business, and in return you'd have a luxurious life." He growled." Now sit and be grateful."
My vision blurred, The urge to pour my drink on him itched so bad.
This was too fast to imagine; his arrival, the news of my engagement and flying to a new country to meet a man I didn't know.
" Thank you, Father. " My smile pinched my cheeks, forcing a light tone.
Money and status mattered only to my father, then his own family.
My spine stiffened as I sat back down, wrestling with my instincts.
Arranged marriages were stories I heard about in the 70s to 90s, but not common in the 20th century. If only I knew mine was lurking after me while I slept.
" You'd love your new home. He's on the list of Forbes 40 under 40. Your father outdid himself, " my mother said, toasting her glass to him.
My limbs were shaking. My eyes tearing up. Yet I wore the mask of an obedient daughter.
If I resisted, my father would throw us out onto the streets.
Every woman knew the price to pay to save herself.
A lump formed in my throat; " I'd pack my bags tonight. "
I wasn't fast enough to my freedom, He's won.
**************
At 8:05am, My heart pounded beneath my rib cage, as i watched my phone buzzing.
Call me a coward, I went off the radar, never told her I won't be working shifts anymore.
I decided to keep this as a secret from Celine until it was right.
I felt a sharp pain in my heart, reading her texts.
Celine: you called in sick; are you okay?
Two days ago...
Celine: I'm getting worried sick; are you dead?
One day ago...
Celine: I know you're seeing this; pick up my calls.
Two hours ago.
Twenty calls missed.
Forgive me, Celine.
I turned off my phone screen and dropped it into my brand new snakeskin bag.
By sunrise, we had carried so many designer packages into our house that I lost count.
All in my father's taste of course.
Before I knew it, it was time to go.
I rolled my suitcases into the black SUV pickup by the gate; I took in deep breaths of my last moment of biased freedom.
I had the opportunity. Why didn't I run away? I wondered as I got into the car.
My mother sat beside me at the backseat; I stared out the window, couldn't stand her raspberry smell. It irritated me.
I should have seen this coming; she didn't have my back. Going back into his arms like a toddler after so much misery.
" Can you get over this attitude of yours?" I felt the weight of her eyes on my back.
" No, I can't." I spat back.
" It's for the best." She reassured.
The hardest thing about life is, you're not betrayed by your enemies.
" You sold me out," I glanced at her. " I find it hard to forgive."
"Your future husband would look after you."
Wow, isnt she a wonderful mother....
" Marry him."
In a couple of hours, we arrived at the airport. A private car picked and dropped us off; I watched the protocols to take my suitcase.
I tailed my mom as she led me to a jet set lounge, welcomed with a kind gesture by an attendant who opened the door for us.
The room had a chic vibe; with warm lights, brown leather sofas, and polished dark wooden floors.
The attendant offered varieties of treats like tea, chocolates and pastries.
For the first time in my life., nothing felt like a chore but more like a VIP experience.
A woman in her early 30s, well dressed and active, approached as we waited for my documents to get cleared.
"Good morning, you must be Mrs. Fabian; my name is Erica." She showed off his dimples. "I'm your daughter's guide, Mrs. Moore couldn't make it." Her voice was silvery-light and pleasant.
" Good morning, Yes i am," my mother smiled back. " This is my beautiful daughter, Aurora," gesturing to me.
I sighed, "I'm too old for this."
" Miss Aurora, your jet is ready for takeoff." She turns to me. " Do you mind coming with me?"
" Not at all." Butterflies danced in my stomach; i gave a slight nod.
I adjusted the white boucle suit; bow tie, trumpet sleeve jacket with a skirt. my mother claims would impress her 'diamond' in-laws.
I bit into my nails; the red lipstick smeared my fingers while ambling after Erica.
" Don't forget to text me when you get there." My mother called out.
There are two options in survival;
1. Accept your fate.
2. Escape.
I've picked number one, and it's a coin I'm left to toss.
This is the beginning of a new standard in my new life with the Moore family and I can perceive they love comfort, control and class.