Tears in a wedding Dress

ZAYLA

Hi, my name is Zayla Everly Hollis, a 21-year old who loved her life, until recently. I was certain every story had a main character, and that made me so sure that I was the main character of my story, especially since I wasn't dead yet—or so I thought.

Today was supposed to be my wedding day, which explained why I was clad in a crisp white, beautifully adorned wedding dress—with an overflowing fishtail that draped over a large area of the floor.

“You look ravishing.” That was what my so-called husband-to-be said to me.

“You're breathtaking, Darling.” My so-called father said as well.

“I know you were going to make the most beautiful bride. You're stunning, sweetheart,” said my so-called mother.

What was marriage? Wasn't it supposed to mean spending your whole life with that one person you love and cherish? Or was my whole life a freaking lie?

Because mine was different.

I wanted to get married to someone I loved. Someone who loved me. Someone I cherished who cherished me as well. But such dreams seemed so expensive to my parents.

They chose their company over their only child. They chose fame, money and power over their daughter’s life and happiness.

I had cried all week when I learnt I was getting married to Lugard Blade—a monster in sheep clothing.

I was the only one who knew what he was made of, who knew the monster he was behind closed doors.

I had cried to my parents not to let the marriage go through. I had starved to get their sympathy, bruised myself even, but all my pleas fell on deaf ears because their minds were made up.

When I tried to escape, they caught me. My mother had slapped living daylight out of me and grounded me inside my room.

Isn't an only child supposed to be loved? Protected? Sacrificed for? Chosen? Or was fate just being overly cruel to me?

My mother told me it was for my future. What silly future? We all knew it was to save their bankrupt company, to keep her position in the elite’s circle intact.

I could endure the pain and agony of getting married off to another man, whom I had little idea of. But to be married to Lugard Blade? My life was doomed.

Lugard Blade is a psychopath. A living demon. I know this because I'd once dated him. He was actually breathtakingly handsome, hot and sweet. Who wouldn't want that kind of man?

So I fell for his charms, his sweet words, and his looks.

Right now, I wasn't even married to him yet, but he made my life a living hell. He was violent and a complete opposite of the facade he always wore.

I was always covered in bruises every time we were together and whenever I objected to his words, he made sure my life flashed in my eyes.

The worst part of it all was that despite everything, I always went back to him because I loved him. I thought I could fix him. I thought… Maybe, just maybe there was an atom of humanity and kindness left in him.

But he wiped that illusion off my memory the night he drove a knife into my stomach, because I caught him banging another woman and swore I was going to break up with him.

I smelled death that night. My life flashed before my eyes, and it was at that moment I realized he was beyond repair.

I broke up with him then. And stopped seeing him.

But Lugard was obsessed with me. He stalked me, threatened me, and even visited my family house. He didn't dare to hurt me in front of my parents, in fact, it felt like he was a whole different person in front of them—sweet and loving.

I never told my parents what happened between us. And they never cared to ask, even though I had visible bruises. Even when I was hospitalized from being stabbed by him, they never asked.

Lugard begged me to come back to him. Cried to me to forgive him. Stayed over at my place just to be with me.

My resolve faltered for some time and in those times, he was the sweetest he'd ever been. I was happy, but I was scared. I was bothered. I was certain something wasn't alright.

I tried to talk to my parents about him, but they didn't believe me—they never did. Sometimes it felt like I was adopted, but there was no proof of that. Besides I was a stark reflection of my mother—Dark ink hair and gray eyes.

Luckily, I had a doctor friend. I talked to him about Lugard's symptoms and the only thing he could come up with was NPD [[NARCISSISTIC PERSONALITY DISORDER]]. I researched it and confirmed that Lugard indeed was mentally disordered.

I was scared to tell him to get therapy. The one time I tried it, I was certain he would have killed me if we weren't in my parents house.

I decided it was over for us. I can't be with a man like Lugard. He was sick and needed medical care, not me. I was done trying to fix him.

Weeks passed, and Lugard stopped visiting. He stopped calling. I was glad. But my happiness was short-lived.

I had no idea how he knew my parent's company was going bankrupt, but he sent them the marriage proposal. All he wanted was me, in exchange for bringing their company back to grace.

I tried everything within my power to make sure this wedding didn't go through, because I knew the hell I was going to face. But my own very parents were another weapon fashioned against my existence.

So here I was, standing in front of the altar. Standing in front of Lugard Blade who was dressed in a three piece-custom-made black tuxedo, and wore a faint but knowing smirk.

My throat was constricted. My eyes stung from tears threatening to fall, as I glanced at the guests present.

My gaze searched for the only family I had, the family I had come to hate—my parents. And there amidst the crowd, they sat proudly. Their excitement and eagerness to get the marriage done with, was overly obvious.

They met my gaze and smiled. It shattered me, killed me inside. I hated them. I fucking hated them.

A lone, broken tear slid down my cheek. My chest was tight and aching.

“Honey, don't cry. You'd always visit them, I promise.” Lugard’s honeyed voice murmured as he lifted his hand, slowly wiping my tears with his handkerchief.

His gentle gesture didn't go unnoticed by the guests, and that gave them the wrong impression of who he was.

“Bastard.” I muttered to myself.

The priest’s voice hauled me back to the moment and we exchanged vows, all of which were lies.

I looked up, wondering if God was a hypocrite. He knew I wanted none of this. He knew, so why did he sit back and do nothing?