Chapter 2--My Wedding.

Today is my wedding day. Most girls dream about their wedding day. I spent mine wishing it would never come.

Even though I wished I hadn't spoken to my father, I'm glad I got to say what's on my chest for the past seven years.

Well some of it, anyway.

I lay sprawled on my bed watching the ceiling whiles sunlight streams from the window beside my bed telling me it's morning.

I spent most of my night turning and tossing in bed dreading and hoping that today never came or maybe someone would finally find me valuable and kidnap me so I wouldn't have to attend my stupid wedding.

A knock on the door has me groaning out loud.

‘Enter’ I say reluctantly.

The maid from yesterday in the library, Zoey? I think, opens the door holding a beautiful white gown that only makes my stomach churn.

‘Miss, I'm here to prepare the bath and help you get ready for your wedding’.

She walks into my closet and hangs the dress on one of the wooden hangers. I sit up on the bed, head in my hands and sigh.

She heads to the bathroom and draws a bath for me. I strip out of my nightgown and drape myself in a bathrobe.

Zoey stands at the corner of the bathroom waiting on her lady like the dutiful servant she is. I shrug the bathrobe from my shoulders and dip my leg into the wooden bathtub.

I feel my muscles relax as I sink deeper into the bathtub. Zoey goes ahead to prepare the scented soaps in washing my hair and my body.

After 15 minutes of intensive scrubbing and massaging, I walk out of the bathroom with Zoey behind me.

I stand in front of the large mirror in my room. Zoey goes to the closet and brings the wedding dress to begin with dressing me.

The gown fits me so perfectly it's a shame I don't want to be in it. I look at my reflection in the mirror.

The girl staring back at me looked like a bride. I felt like a prisoner.

Zoey leads my to my dresser to fix my hair and my makeup.

After she's finished, she takes a step back to look at her work. She smiles at what she sees on my face.

‘You look so beautiful, Miss’. She compliments.

‘Eh’. I shrug.

Standing up, I move to the large mirror to check my reflection.

My brown hair has been made into a crown of braids atop my head. My cheeks have been given a rosy color that makes me look like a blushing bride.

But my eyes speak the truth.

They're as dull as the morning of my mother's funeral.

I turn to look at her. ‘When is my father coming to pick me up?’ I ask.

She looks down at her feet.

‘Lord Donovan is already at the church, Milady’. She says fiddling with her apron.

She might as well have punched me in the gut with what she said. My father comes through again.

I sigh.

‘So how I'm I suppose to get there then?’. I ask already tired with this conversation.

‘Lord Donovan ordered you'll be brought by carriage to the church’. She says.

Great. Not only am I supposed to wear this dress that clings to my body like a second skin, I'm supposed to ride a carriage that is small and clustered.

Not to even talk about the coach man who deliberately leads the horses towards potholes on the road.

I growl in frustration just thinking about it.

‘Let’s go’ I say.

I walk out the door without waiting for her response.

Ten times of passing through potholes and twelve minutes of swearing under my breath, we finally reach the church.

The coach man climbs down from his seat in front of the carriage and opens the carriage door. He helps me out of the carriage, with a bow he turns his back on me and heads towards the carriage.

He rides off, leaving me staring dumbfounded at the church in front of me.

It didn't look like a church at all. It's like a cathedral. It looks ancient. Regally ancient.

I see my father walking towards me from the entrance of the church. I straightened my gown, wiping of the nervous sweat on my palms in the process.

‘Elara, you're late’. he scolds.

‘You don't get to complain’.I snap back.

He sighs. ‘I can't deal with you're attitude now’.

I scoff. If he thinks this is an ‘attitude’ then he doesn't know me. At all.

‘Let’s head inside’ he says gripping my elbow and hauling me forward.

I try to get out of his hold but he won't budge.

‘This is the private chapel at the Ashcroft estate’. He informs me.

I'm assuming Ashcroft, as in Lord Ashcroft is my soon to be husband's last’s name. I wasn't even told his name.

‘I don't care’ I say as we near the doors of the church.

He tucks his arm in mine as we stand in front of doors that lead to the inside of the chapel.

‘You should. Because all of this belongs to you today’ And with that he pushes the doors open.

The feeling of the church outside has the same feeling as the inside.

Ancient.

Is the only word I can use to describe it.

There are candles lit that give the room a warm but eerie feel. The only music that plays is the piano, but it's so quiet, I have to strain my ear to listen. It's tune is sad and torn.

Just like my heart.

It feels more like a contract signing than a wedding.

The guest are so few that I'd be able to count the with my fingers and toes.

They all look sophisticated. They'd probably be Lawyers, Physicians, Family members? Maybe. And a few executives.

They all stare a me as if they could look into my soul and see how nervous I am in this suddenly too tight wedding dress.

I wish the ground would open up and sallow me.

Father leads me towards the altar, untangles his arm from mine after reaching the small set of stairs in front of the altar.

‘Behave’ he says under his breath only for my ears and walks toward his seat.

Such a loving father, isn't he?

I sigh and climb the remaining staircase. Reaching towards my future husband.

I stand beside him and face the priest.

‘You may take your seats’ he tells the congregation. He opens his book that sits on a pulpit in front of him.

He talks about marriage. The purpose of it and why it helps families.

Well, if you ask me I'd say marriage is just a way for father's to sell their daughter's to strangers in order to ‘build their future’

He begins the vows, ending the short lecture.

‘Do you Damien Ashcroft take Elara Donovan to be your lovely wedded wife, to love and to protect, in sickness and in health, till death do you path?’ he asks

‘I do’ he says smoothly without hesitation.

‘Do you Elara Donovan take Damien Ashcroft to be your handsome wedded husband, to love and to protect, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?’ he asks looking at me.

My breath catchs in my throat.

I hesitate asking myself if I'm really going through with this.

I feel my father's heated glare burning down my back.

‘I… do’ I whisper.

The priest nods. ‘You may now wear your rings’.

I can't bring myself to look in the eyes of the man I'm about to bind myself to.

He grabs my left hand. There is nothing warm or gentle about the way he holds my hand. It's tense and rigid as if he's fulfilling his duty.

He slides the ring into my ring finger. Its the most beautiful emerald ring I've ever seen.

He drops my hand and brings his own so I can do the same for him.

I slide the ring the priest gives me into his ring finger, my hand shaking in the process.

It's just a gold ring with tiny emeralds at the sides to match mine.

‘By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride’.

I turn to face my husband. He leans in and gives me a brief, respectful kiss on the lips.

Just enough to satisfy tradition and my father.

We turn to face the guest as they stand and clap for the newlyweds.

After the ceremony, we were taken to a grand room I can only assume is the reception.

I'm made to sit at a table that over looks the dancing area.

I hear some of the guest talking so loudly it's impossible to not hear them.

‘The Donovan and Ashcroft alliance will dominate the market’. A woman says talking to her husband.

‘Indeed’. Agrees her husband. ‘This union was inevitable’.

No one congratulates the bride. All that matters to the is ‘The Donovan and Ashcroft alliance dominating the market’.

I stand up from my seat and head towards the balcony needing some fresh air.

The stars look lovely tonight. I sip my champagne as I take in the gardens below.

This place is something out of a fairytale. I wonder if I belong in this fairytale-like world.

‘Elara’.

The sound of my father's voice has me rolling my eyes. I turn towards the sound of his a see him standing at the entrance of the balcony.

I cross my arms over my chest.

‘Are you here to scold me how I hesitated on the altar, Father?’. I ask raising an eyebrow.

He straightens his cuffs on his shirt sleeve and says, ‘You’ve served your purpose as the dutiful daughter you are-’.

I scoff, interrupting him.

‘So I wouldn't be scolding you anymore, And a word of advice, Don't disgrace the Donovan name’. He finishes.

Then he walks away without looking back.

I watch him leave and I realize, in that moment I'm not even sad anymore.

I'm numb.

As the reception comes to an end, everyone leaves to back on their lives while I live in a world I don't even know.

I head towards entrance of the chapel like everyone else heading to God-knows where when my heels catches on the chapel stairs.

I stumble, preparing myself to feel the impact of the ground on my body.

Before I can fall, I feel steading hands latch on my arm preventing me from falling.

I look up to find a set of green eyes staring down on me.

He doesn't smile. He simply says

‘Careful’

One word.

Then he lets go of my arm and walks away.

I'm left standing there watching his retreating figure leave the chapel.