Chapter 1

AMARA POV:

On the 31st of December, I stood in my room, drying my long, wet blonde hair when I heard a knock at the door.

I walked over, pulled it open, and saw my mother’s maid, Agnes, smiling at me. She wore a long blue nightgown and was light-skinned, about my height. I, too, was dressed in a long blue nightgown—it was nearly 11:30 p.m., after all.

We were waiting for the New Year’s crossover celebration to begin. I had just finished drying my hair after my bath and tied it into a bun.

“What do you want, Agnes?” I asked, studying her face. She smiled back.

“Amara, I'm sorry to disturb you. Your father has sent for you downstairs,” Agnes said.

I sighed. “But we just finished dinner in the dining room. What does my father want now? I’m not even interested in the New Year celebration.”

Agnes gave me a faint smile. “I don’t know, but he’s downstairs with your mother. The guests have all gone outside to prepare for the fireworks.”

“Alright. Tell my father I’ll be down soon. I need to use the restroom first,” I said. Agnes turned and left my corridor.

I sighed and went back into the restroom. After relieving myself, I made my way downstairs to the living room of my father’s enormous white mansion.

We lived on the outskirts of the city, precisely the countryside. My father was a chief there, deeply involved in agricultural produce.

At home, I was like a princess. My mother was the center of admiration, and our people loved me because she had taught me to be kind and helpful. We were preparing for the crossover into a brand-new year, but I didn’t know how to feel about it.

I was my parents’ only child, still single, and they weren’t pressing me to get married. My father was understanding, but even after several bachelors had come to ask for my hand in marriage—including my crush, Charles Wilfred—my father had refused them all.

I didn’t know his reasons, but my mother had assured me that my father only wanted the best for me. He couldn’t just give me away to any suitor who might treat me poorly in the future. I understood, though I sighed as I made my way to the living room.

Our home was a standard duplex surrounded by lush gardens. My father’s mansion was fenced, and with the celebration underway, we had many visitors. The guest rooms were packed with my cousins and aunts.

As I finally walked into the living room, Agnes stepped out of the kitchen. “Your father has requested that you meet him in his home office,” she said.

“Okay,” I replied, then headed to my father’s home office. I suspected whatever he had to say was private—something he didn’t want our relatives to overhear.

I arrived at the door of my father’s office and knocked gently. I heard his calm voice from inside: “Come in.”

I quietly pushed the door open and entered the spacious office. It had two guest chairs and a set of four blue couches.

My parents sat together on one of the blue couches. My father smiled and said, “Come, Amara, have a seat before the fireworks start. Your mother and I have something important to tell you.”

“Okay, Dad,” I replied, walking in. I sat on another blue couch across from them.

My mother wore a red nightdress, while my father was in a white garment and black trousers, the latter visible as he sat beside her.

My father smiled again. “Amara, it’s time your mother and I told you about an arrangement we’ve kept from you. We’ve made a decision. You’re familiar with my friend, Mr. Joshua Briggs, aren’t you?”

I smiled. “Yes, Dad. I know Mr. Briggs. He lives in the city and visits sometimes.”

“Good. You’re married to his only son, Darlington Briggs. You’ll be going to the city tomorrow to live with him.”

I gasped. “What? Dad, I don’t understand. How can I be married to your friend’s son? When? I don’t remember getting married to anyone. Do I have memory loss?”

I stared at my parents in shock. How could I be married without remembering it? And how could I settle down with a man I didn’t even know?

My father sighed, and my mother gave me an understanding smile.

“It was an arrangement I made with Mr. Joshua a long time ago,” my father explained. “You’re not officially married to Darlington Briggs yet, but you’ll live with him to see if you two can be compatible as a true couple.”

“Dad, I don’t understand. Do you mean I’m supposed to visit them, or that I’m already married to this man—your best friend’s son? And do what married couples do with him?” I asked, wanting to understand.

“Amara, as I said, you’re married to Darlington Briggs. You should be a good wife to him when you get to his house. Don’t worry about anything. Mr. Joshua has already paid all the necessary bride price for his son. So, Darlington Briggs is your husband, and you are his wife now. The only difference is that Darlington didn’t come here to marry you officially. You didn’t wear a wedding dress or walk down the aisle with him. But by our traditional customs, you are his wife,” my father emphasized.

“Dad, I can’t marry a man I don’t know. I can’t go to the city to live with him. Mom?” I looked at her face, hoping for her support.

She sighed. “Amara, calm down. It’s for your good.”

“How, Mom? I can’t go to the city to live with a man I’m not familiar with. I don’t like the bustling life of city people. I want to stay here, where it’s quiet and peaceful,” I protested, hoping my father would change his mind about this sudden arrangement.

“Amara, I understand your concerns, but I trust Mr. Joshua’s son to take care of you. You’re going to the city tomorrow,” my father said, finalizing the matter.