Chapter 2

AMARA POV:

“Dad, I don’t want to go to the city. I don’t want to marry a city man,” I protested, tears gathering in my eyes.

My father stood up from the blue couch. He was a tall, dark-skinned man, unlike my mother and me—we were both light-skinned. He sighed and said, “Amara, we are not disowning you. You will always be our daughter. But you must start your own life and family to give your mother and me grandchildren. We don’t want you to leave us, but we cannot trust all the people here to look after you. So, your mother and I have decided: you will go to the city, where you will be genuinely loved—not by greedy people who might pretend to care for you just to gain favor from us.”

“Dad!” Tears flowed freely from my eyes like taps, and my mother stood up and walked over to me.

“You don’t have to cry,” my father said. “I can assure you that the Briggs family are good people. Mr. Joshua Briggs is my childhood friend. You will be treated well in their home.” His words left me speechless.

I had been to the city before to further my education and study accounting. But I didn’t like city life. I didn’t envision myself living there, surrounded by the social and competitive lifestyle. All I wanted was peace.

“It’s okay. Come, let’s go outside and see the fireworks. It will be a new year soon,” my mother said, gently embracing me.

“Mom, I’m not interested in seeing the fireworks. I’m not happy about any of this. How can you and Dad decide my life like this?” I asked. She let out an exasperated sigh as my father left us in his home office.

“I can understand your feelings, but you should know that your father wants the best for you,” my mother said.

“The best for me? By forcing me to marry his best friend’s son? I can’t go to the city tomorrow, Mom. You should help me speak to Dad again. Cancel all of this and let me stay here,” I protested. My mother sighed.

“It’s okay. Stop crying. Come, let’s go outside,” she urged, gently pulling me to walk with her.

My mother and I were of similar heights—tall, but not as tall as my father. We both had blue eyes and long blonde hair.

I sighed and followed her outside to see the fireworks. My mind raced with thoughts, wondering what my new husband would look like.

I couldn’t believe I was a married woman now. But this was not the marriage I had dreamed of.

I had always hoped to walk down the aisle in a long white wedding dress, with a veil covering my head, walking alongside my parents to officially meet my husband.

How could I be told one night that the next day, I would go to a man’s house to become his wife? A man I had never seen before in my life, who grew up in the city.

Where was this done?

I swallowed my nervousness and dried my face. Outside, I saw my aunt and the rest of our family. They all looked joyful—well, except for me. No matter how much I used the white handkerchief my mother had lent me to wipe my face, I was sure it still looked red and swollen from sobbing.

While others were joyful, I was in turmoil, unhappy about my parents’ decision. I had no choice but to follow the path they wanted for me. They were my guardians, after all. If I disobeyed them, I might face many challenges in life. But I wasn’t brave enough to defy them, either.

I sighed and watched the fireworks, trying to cheer myself up. I encouraged myself: *I’m only married. It’s not the end of my life.*

After midnight, a brand-new day began: a new year, a new beginning, and me as a newly married woman.

My parents and I went back into my father’s house, while my aunts and uncles left for their nearby homes after wishing us a happy new year.

My mother’s younger sister, Juliet Donalds, walked up to me. She was over 40 years old and my mother’s only sister. She looked like my mother, with the same face, pointed nose, and sparkling blue eyes that glimmered with hope. She had two daughters younger than me.

“Amara, what’s wrong? I noticed you didn’t look so cheerful,” she asked as I walked into the living room, heading upstairs to my bedroom.

“I’m fine, Aunt. I just feel overwhelmed by the New Year,” I lied. I couldn’t tell her I was married. Who would believe me? They hadn’t witnessed any wedding, and I didn’t think my mother had informed her yet, even though they discussed everything together most of the time.

“Are you sure you’re fine?” my aunt asked once more. I nodded. “Yes, Aunt. I’m good. I have to go upstairs now,” I replied, wanting to walk away.

She sighed. “Whatever is troubling you, put it into prayer and don’t let it weigh you down, okay?”

“Okay, Aunt,” I responded, just as I saw my mother step out of the kitchen. She smiled at us and informed her sister, “Amara will be fine. She’s going to the city tomorrow to her husband’s house.”

“What??” My aunt looked stunned. She swiftly turned to my mother, who looked so beautiful, even at night. My mother was still glowing brightly, like the sun.

“You don’t mean it, Julianne. You mean your daughter is married, and we don’t know about it? When? How?” my aunt questioned.

My mother sighed and handed the cup of water she was holding back to Agnes to return to the kitchen.

“It’s a long story, Juliet. But it’s for Amara’s good. Don’t worry, she’s our daughter, and she will be fine,” my mother assured her sister. Then she walked over to me.

“Come, Amara, let’s go to your room and pack some of your things. Morning will come soon, and the driver will be on time to take you to your husband’s house. Good night, sister,” my mother told her sister as she walked toward me.

I felt like crying and protesting again, but I knew I was an obedient girl. So, I allowed my mother to wrap her arm around my shoulder as she escorted me back to my room upstairs.