2.

NARA

I stood in front of the mirror long after the sun had gone down.

The room was quiet, but my head wasn’t. My eyes were swollen and red, lashes stiff from dried tears. I wiped my face again even though it didn’t help much. Camille had laid a dress on my bed like a final decision already made. Cream colored. Long sleeves. Modest, but tight where it mattered. It didn’t feel like clothing. It felt like packaging.

I slipped it on slowly.

The fabric clung to my skin in a way that made my stomach twist. I barely recognized the girl staring back at me. She looked dressed for display, not dinner. Like livestock cleaned up before sale.

My chest ached as every breath felt slow and forced. I kept blinking hard, scared that if I cried again, I wouldn’t stop.

Dinner… with Jared Wilson’s family.. the words tasted bitter in my mouth.

I whispered Mike’s name without thinking. Just once. Soft. Like a plea. Like if I said it out loud, he’d somehow feel it wherever he was.

A knock hit the door.

“Nara,” Camille called. “It’s time.”

My heart jumped. I took one last look at myself, squared my shoulders, and opened the door.

Her eyes scanned me from head to toe. Calculating. Judging.

“Stand straight,” she said, tugging at my sleeve. “Don’t slouch. Tonight matters.”

I swallowed.

It mattered to everyone except the person being sold.

Her hand closed around my arm, firm, guiding, like she was afraid I’d bolt if she loosened her grip. The house felt different as we went downstairs. Brighter and colder. The lights in the living room were on full blast.

They were already seated.

My father stood up the moment he saw me with a fake smile stretching on his face, the kind of smile he wore when money was involved.

“There she is,” he said proudly. “Our beautiful girl.”

My stomach turned.

All their eyes landed on me at once.

Two people I immediately guessed as Jared’s parents sat close together. His mother wore a polite smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She looked calm, composed, like she was inspecting a purchase. His father only nodded at me, slowly.

Beside them sat a woman with sharp eyes and a stiff posture. An aunt? I felt it immediately. Beside her sat a quiet man who barely looked at me. The uncle I figured.

One chair sat empty.

No Jared?

Camille nudged me forward.

“Good evening,” I said, my voice low.

“Good evening, dear,” his mother replied smoothly.

She turned to Camille. “We must apologize. Jared couldn’t make it tonight. Work matters came up.”

My father laughed quickly, waving it off. “Oh, that’s nothing at all. We understand. He’s a very busy man.”

“Yes,” his father added. “He sends his regards.”

“I’m sure they’ll meet some day,” my father said, nodding at me. “Plenty of time for that.”

I pressed my lips together.

Time was exactly what I didn’t have.

We sat.

The silence pressed down on me like weight. I folded my hands in my lap, willing them to stop shaking.

The aunt leaned forward first.

“So,” she said. “Tell us about yourself.”

Her tone wasn’t warm. It was sharp. Testing.

“I’m a graduate,” I said. “I studied accounting.”

“That’s good,” his mother said with a nod. “A woman who understands numbers is useful.”

Useful.

The aunt tilted her head. “What about your temperament? Are you calm?”

“I try to be,” I answered carefully.

“Do you get angry easily?” she asked. “Do you shout? Do you talk back?”

Before I could speak, Camille laughed softly.

“Oh no,” she said. “Nara is very calm headed. She listens. She doesn’t argue. She always puts others before herself.”

I looked at her, stunned.

It felt like she was erasing me while I sat right there.

The aunt’s gaze sharpened. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

My heart stuttered.

“No,” Camille said quickly.

“She doesn’t.” She added with a smile.

“Has she had many men?” she pressed. “Be honest.”

“No.” I finally answered myself.

“Any children?” she asked. “Any abortions?”

My throat tightened. “No.”

She studied my face closely. “You’re not lying to us?”

“I’m not.”

Camille smiled like she’d won something. “She’s very decent. She doesn’t sleep around. Very obedient.”

That word again.

Obedient.

It burned like salt on an open wound.

The aunt’s eyes traveled over my body slowly. Too slowly.

“She has good breasts,” his mother said plainly. “Her hips are strong. Her thighs too. Her body will do well.”

I froze where I sat.

“She’ll give birth easily,” she continued. “No delays.”

My face burned. Shame crawled up my neck, heavy and hot.

“Any hormonal issues?” His mother asked. “PCOS? Irregular cycles?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Does she smell during her period?” the aunt added, like I was invisible. “Does she use proper sprays? Deodorants?”

“In our family,” she said, “we value cleanliness. Our home is always proper.”

Camille nodded eagerly. “She’s very clean. Always neat. Very hygienic.”

I felt myself shrinking with every word. Like I was being peeled apart, reduced to pieces. Body. Womb. Silence.

The cook announced dinner before I could break completely.

We moved to the dining table.

I went to sit down, relief flooding me for just a second, but Camille’s hand stopped me.

“No,” she whispered. “Serve them.”

I stared at her.

His mother smiled. “Yes. Let her. It’s nice to see how she manages.”

My hands shook as I lifted the serving spoon. I dished out their meals carefully, aware of every movement. They watched. The portions. How steady my hands were. How quiet I stayed.

“Very good,” the aunt said after a while. “She knows her place.”

Camille looked proud.

“She’ll make a perfect submissive wife,” his mother added. “The wedding will hold in five days.”

The room tilted.

“Five days?” I whispered. “But I thought… I thought I’d meet Jared. Get to know him.”

His mother smiled calmly. “You’re a perfect fit. You can get to know each other after marriage.”

“Jared has grieved enough,” she added. “We need a woman who can manage the home and give children.”

My chest felt hollow.

I nodded because I didn’t know how not to.

Later, when I was finally alone again, I sat on my bed and let the tears come.

Tomorrow.

I would go to Mike.

No matter what it took.

********

I woke up before the sun fully rose.

My body felt heavy, but my mind was already racing. I got out of bed quickly, before doubt could sink its teeth into me. If I stayed still too long, fear would win.

I swept my room, wiped the small table, folded the clothes Camille had thrown on my chair the night before. I moved fast, quiet, like someone afraid of being caught breathing wrong. I washed the dishes from last night, even the ones already clean, just to look busy.

By the time I finished, my hands were shaking.

I dressed simply. Nothing that would draw attention. I tied my hair back, grabbed my bag, and headed for the door.

“Nara.”

My heart dropped.

Camille stood in the hallway, arms crossed, eyes sharp.

“Where are you off to so early?”

I froze for half a second. Just one. I knew my answer had to be perfect. One wrong word and she’d shut the door in my face.

“I’m going to the market,” I said carefully. “The dry cleaner didn’t finish Father’s suits yesterday. They said I should come back early today. I also need to pick up groceries for dinner since guests might still come around.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re going alone?”

“Yes,” I said quickly. “It’s faster that way. I’ll be back before noon.”

She studied me like she was peeling layers off my skin.

“Don’t waste time,” she said finally. “And don’t wander.”

“I won’t,” I said, forcing my voice steady.

She stepped aside.

I didn’t breathe properly until I was outside the gate.

Once I was in the cab, my chest finally rose and fell freely. I gave the driver Mike’s address and stared out the window the whole way, my fingers twisting together in my lap.

This was it.

If there was one person who could save me from this nightmare, it was him.

When I got to his place, my heart pounded so hard it hurt. I got to the door and knocked slowly..

The door opened almost immediately.

Mike stood there.

His eyes widened just a little too much. Not relief or joy.. more like shock. Like I’d shown up in the middle of something.

“Nara?” he said. “What are you doing here?”

The way he said it made my stomach sink.

“You look surprised,” I said quietly. “Were you expecting someone else?”

He blinked fast, then shook his head. “No. I just… I wasn’t expecting visitors.”

Visitors? I was a visitor?

I nodded, even though the word hurt.

“Can I come in?”

He hesitated for half a second too long. Then he stepped aside. “Yeah. Of course.”

The living room smelled the same. Clean. Familiar. That faint scent of his cologne that used to calm me. I sat down slowly, my bag clutched tight in my hands like it was the only thing keeping me grounded.

He stayed standing.

“I need to tell you something,” I said. My voice already felt thin. “Something big.”

He finally sat, but he leaned back, not toward me. Like he was creating space.

“My parents are forcing me to get married,” I said. “To a man named Jared Wilson. He’s a businessman. He lost his wife a few months ago.”

He frowned. “Married?”

“Yes.” My throat tightened. “They’ve already fixed everything. They paraded me in front of his family like I was an item on a shelf.”

He didn’t interrupt.

“They asked me questions,” I continued. “Disgusting questions. About my body. About children. About my cycle. They spoke about me like I wasn’t even there.”

My hands started shaking. I hid them under my thighs.

“They want the wedding in five days,” I whispered. “Five days, Mike.”

He let out a slow breath. “That’s… that’s a lot.”

Something inside me cracked.

“That’s all you have to say?” I asked. “That’s your reaction? I’m standing here telling you my life is being sold off.”

He rubbed his hands together, avoiding my eyes. “What do you want me to do?”

The question stunned me.

“What do you want me to do?” I repeated. “Are you serious?”

He looked up, confused. “I’m asking you.”

“You come with me,” I said, my voice rising. “Today. Right now. You meet my parents. You tell them we’ve been together for three years. You tell them you’re the man I love.”

Silence.

He looked away.

“I can’t,” he said.

My chest felt like it split open. “Why?”

“I’m not ready for marriage yet,” he said quietly. “Everything is happening too fast.”

I laughed, sharp and broken. “Too fast? Three years isn’t fast. I stood by you. I waited.”

He stood up and pulled me into a hug before I could push him away.

His arms closed around me, and that was it.

I broke.

I grabbed the front of his shirt like I was drowning and he was the last solid thing in the room. The sound that came out of me didn’t feel human. It was loud, ugly, ripped straight from my chest. My body shook so hard my knees almost gave out.

“I can’t,” I sobbed. “I can’t do this. Mike, I’m so scared.”

He stiffened at first, then his arms tightened. I pressed my face into his chest, crying harder, not caring how it sounded anymore.

“They’re taking my life,” I cried. “They’ve already decided everything. They’re talking about my body like I’m not even alive. Five days. They want to marry me off in five days.”

My fingers twisted into his shirt. “I can’t breathe there anymore. I feel like I’m being buried. Slowly. Like the ground is closing over me and no one cares.”

He said my name, low and shaken. “Nara.”

“I love you,” I cried. “I’ve always loved you. You’re the only person I chose for myself. I can’t do this without you. Please don’t leave me alone in this.”

My chest hurt from crying. My head felt light. I stayed there, clinging to him, like if I let go I would fall apart completely.

He swallowed. I felt it against my cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry I sounded cold earlier.”

I pulled back just enough to look at him. His eyes looked different. Not distant anymore. More… unsettled.

“I didn’t expect something this heavy,” he said. “It just hit me all at once.”

“So what does that mean?” I asked, my voice shaking. “Because I’m running out of time.”

He held my arms, firm but gentle. “It means I’m not abandoning you.”

Those words made me breathe again.

“I won’t,” he said. “I promise.”

I searched his face. “You mean that?”

“Yes,” he said quickly. “I do.”

My crying slowed, even though my chest still hurt. “Then come with me,” I said. “Today. Please.”

He nodded, but slower this time. “I will come see your parents.”

Hope rushed through me so fast it scared me.

“You will?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. “I’ll talk to them. I’ll tell them about us. I’ll make them listen.”

My hands tightened around his arms. “Today?”

“No. But soon,” he said. “Very soon.”

“How soon?” I asked. “Mike, I need to know.”

He hesitated, then said, “I just want to do this properly. I don’t want things to explode and make it worse for you. Let me calm things down first.”

I nodded, even though part of me wanted to scream. “So you’ll really come?”

“I will,” he said. “I promise.”

I leaned into him again. “I love you.”

He hugged me tighter. His hand moved to my hair, slow, familiar. He kissed my forehead.

He didn’t say it back.

I noticed. Of course I noticed. The silence sat between us, loud and heavy. I swallowed it down because I needed this hope more than I needed the truth.

“You should go home,” he said softly. “If Camille starts wondering where you are, it could make things worse.”

I pulled back, my heart sinking. “Already?”

“Just for now,” he said. “Stress won’t help you. Trust me, okay?”

I looked at him. “You’ll handle it?”

“Yes,” he said. “I will.”

I nodded again. I didn’t trust my voice anymore.

When I stood, my legs felt weak. He walked me to the door.

“I’ll call you,” he said.

“Ok, I will wait,” I replied.

I stepped outside, holding onto his promises like they were fragile glass. As the door closed behind me, I told myself one thing over and over.

He said he wouldn’t abandon me.

He wouldn’t.