MARRY WHO?

"What's this?" Emma whispered, staring at the blood on her dress.

She glanced up to see her niece wiping blood off her nose. 

"Come here, sweetheart." Emma squatted. "Did you fall again?"

The child shuffled closer and Emma examined her.

"Yeah, runs all the time, falls all the time. It's not news." Misty said.

"No, this is different." Emma said as she gently wiped the blood off her niece's nose with a piece of cloth.

The moment Emma showed her the blood, the child burst out crying. This reaction earned laughter from the girls. 

"It's okay sweetheart. Just hot today," Emma soothed. "Did you drink water?"

Jovana shook her head.

"Then we'll fix that."

"JOVANA!" 

The kid turned. Her cry choked in her throat and her face twisted with terror... 

At the door stood her mother.

"How many times have I told you not to step in this room?" The newcomer shouted. Her face was tight and her eyes red.

The child bolted for the corridor, wiping tears and shrinking away as she passed her mother at the door.

"Bridget, why do you treat her like that?" Emma said. "She's even scared of you."

"Or maybe you're the one turning her against me," Bridget replied. 

"Please!" Emma muttered scornfully. "You do that well enough on your own." 

"Can we have one peaceful day without you two biting each other's ears off?" Hellena sighed.

"Bridget, you won't believe this. Emma is going to Crestfield!" Misty said.

'Read the room, Misty,' Emma thought.

"You believe everything, don't you?" Bridget said, a hint of spite in her voice. "Do you even know what it takes to get into Crestfield?"

"She already did. That's what I'm telling you...like... she just received the call right now," Misty said brightly.

"Whatever. I wouldn't be celebrating too soon if I were you," Bridget retorted before vanishing into the corridor.

Hellena placed her hands on Emma's shoulders. "Ignore her. Don't let her ruin your day."

"What? I don't mind her. It's Jovana..." Emma said.

"People nosebleed. She'll be fine, it's not a big deal." Hellena said. "Anyway, congratulations."

"Congratulations, sis," Misty joined them again in a hug.

Hellena pulled back, her blue eyes brightened like she had just discovered something.

"We should celebrate!" She shouted.

"Yes! That's what I was about to say," Misty backed her. 

"No, I need to first make the payment..." Emma began but Hellena was already tearing her wardrobe apart.

"We are going out." Hellena said.

"Hellena, we are supposed to pay a commitment f*e within 24 hours..."

Her friend ignored her. "I'm going to choose the sluttiest dress I can find. And you never know, you may meet a guy who will help you celebrate in other ways."

Laughter erupted in the room once again.

Emma rolled her eyes, but smiled faintly. "Tomorrow maybe. I'll go see dad first."

                           * * * *

Emma Hedwig burst into the living room all smiles. "Dad, I have a surprise..." 

She stopped in her tracks.

Bridget was lying on a sofa, her head in their mother's lap, crying silently. 

On a sofa adjacent to theirs sat Emma's father with a far-away look in his eyes.

"What's going on?" Emma asked.

No one answered.

"Dad, I just got admitted to Crestfield," she said.

Still, no reaction.

'At least pretend to be happy,' she thought.

After another long bout of silence, Emma stepped closer and sat on the arm of a sofa close to that which her father sat on.

"Anyway." She said weakly. "I need to pay a commitment f*e within the next 24 hours."

Her parents exchanged a grave look. 

Her father cleared his throat loudly, but his voice still came as a low rumble. "Things haven't been going well with the company."

Emma blinked. "What does that mean?"

"It's in debt. Deep debt." Mr. Galavan was staring straight ahead at the blank TV screen.

"I... I don't understand." She stammered.

Her father shifted in his seat. "The company is collapsing, Emma."

"I'm only asking for the fund grandpa set up for me."

"That's what I'm trying to tell you. It's...it's gone." 

Her father's voice was low and soft and she thought she didn't hear him correctly.

Her eyes darted across the room, from one person to another. But there was no hint of a joke on their faces.

"What? What do you mean 'gone'?"

Silence.

"Can someone just explain things clearly to me," She said with frustration.

"We were on the brink of bankruptcy." Mr. Galavan said. "So we scrapped around and I had no choice but to add your fund onto what we were able to raise. That's what's kept the company afloat for now, but even then..."

There was a disturbing sad look in his eyes. He shook his head and his teeth flashed as he grit them hard, like he had tasted something bitter. 

Emma couldn't believe her ears. 

"Wait..." She folded her hands on her chest defensively. "You...you used my fund?"

"In how many different ways do you want me to repeat the same thing?" Mr. Galavan retorted. His voice was now laced with frustration, as though Emma was bothering him.

"I can't believe you used my money without talking to me about it?" 

"I had no choice. That money was needed to keep the company alive."

"That money was strictly for my education. Grandpa made that very clear in his will." Emma's voice raised. "So now I can't go to Crestfield because..."

"Young lady!" Mr. Galavan shouted and shifted closer to the edge of the sofa, his huge belly bulging between his legs. "Your duty is to this family, not to your childish dreams. Do you want us all on the streets?"

"Don't try to make this about duty. You've always treated me like I don't belong in this family." Emma was fighting hard to hold back her tears.

"Am I wrong to want better for you?" Her father stood up. His voice was stern and his eyes flashed with danger. "I said I will teach you how to run a business so you and Bridget can take over the company one day."

"Teach me?" Emma shot back. "When you yourself failed? You ran grandpa's company to the ground."

Old Galavan's jaw dropped.

"Emma!!!!" Her mother barked. "Don't talk to your father like that."

"Mum, what do you expect from her? She's just a selfish brat," Bridget whispered.

"I can't believe this!" Emma said and looked up at the ceiling, tears welling up in her eyes.

"All she cares about is herself," Bridget added.

"Says the girl who once got impregnated by a loser, then ran off with another man, leaving her baby behind." Emma shot back.

"Say that again!" Bridget rose up and stepped forward but her mother grabbed her arm.

"Can we all just calm down!" Her mother shouted. 

The room fell silent. Everyone on their feet, emotions flaring.

"Sit!" Mrs. Galavan said. "Everyone sit. And calm down."

Mr. Galavan sat first and everyone followed.

For a moment, only silence ruled the room. Chests rose and fell and no one looked the other in the eyes.

At long last, her mother spoke. "Emma, we can't afford Crestfield. But there's a way out."

She cleared her throat loudly and hesitated for a while before continuing.

"There's a man. A powerful man," her mother continued, "He's interested in you. If you marry him, he will clear our debts."

Emma's stomach dropped. "Marry who?"

"The man who can save us." Her father said flatly.

"That will never happen," Emma replied firmly.

"Oh yes, it will." Her father looked at her, eyes cold. "I gave him my word already."

"You promised me to someone I've never even met?" Emma protested. "What happened to the promise you made to me?" 

"Young lady, even if I had the money, I wouldn't waste it on an art school. You will marry this man. That's final." Mr. Galavan reached for the remote on the table and turned the TV on. He ramped up the volume so high that any further discussion was impossible.

Emma felt powerless.

A big lump had formed in her throat and all fight had left her. 

"Father," she whispered, her voice raw with emotion, "Why do you keep treating me like this?" 

But no one could hear her. Bridget had a satisfied look on her face and Emma held her tears back as hard as she could. She couldn't let Bridget have the satisfaction of seeing her break.

She fought it hard but unfortunately, the moment she blinked, a tear broke and rolled down her left cheek. 

Then down the right.

Just then, her cellphone vibrated.

Notification: Email 

Sender: [e-mail]

She opened it.

Subject: Enrollment confirmation and Tuition Payment instructions.

Reading the first line broke her heart so much that she felt like she couldn't breathe. The words looked blurry through her tears :

'We are delighted to formally welcome you to the Crestfield Academy of Fine Arts...'