A Love Rewriting

CAMILLE. Most girls my age—or people in general—would absolutely abhor the idea of an arranged marriage. After all, it was outdated, backward, and downright regressive. But for me, it was my ticket to freedom. My late mother had set it up years ago, ensuring that when I turned 21, I would be married off ASAP. Till today, I don’t know her motivations. Maybe she was afraid of me devolving into a single old cat lady. Either way, I was thankful. That day was now just a week away, and I couldn’t wait. Marriage wasn’t a cage for me—it was an escape. It meant leaving behind this oppressive household, Bella, and Bella’s vile mother, Celinda. My father? I wasn’t sure what to feel about him anymore. He had once been my hero, but over the years, he had retreated into silence, letting Celinda rule the house with her cruelty and Bella follow suit. He always took their side now. Now, I reclined in the sprawling garden of our estate. The late afternoon sun warmed my skin as I was sprawled on a blanket, my nose buried in a spicy romance novel. Just as the heroine was about to confess her love, a shadow fell over me. "Are you seriously just lying here?" Bella’s sharp voice shattered my peace. I sighed without looking up. “Yes, Bella. I am. Is that a problem?” Bella’s scoff was loud enough to startle the birds in the nearby bushes. “Of course, it’s a problem. You’re useless, Camille. You do nothing for this house. Do you think you’re some kind of princess?” I finally glanced up, squinting against the sunlight. Bella stood over me, hands on her hips, her perfectly styled blonde hair catching the golden glow of the sun. “Bella, I’m just reading a book. What do you want?” Bella crossed her arms, her face twisting into a sneer. “My favorite necklace is missing, and I know you took it.” I blinked at her, incredulous. “Why would I take your necklace? I don’t even like your tacky jewelry.” Bella’s voice rose, shrill and accusing. “Don’t lie to me, Camille! You’re always jealous of me. Always trying to take what’s mine!” I let out a deep sigh, closing my book and sitting up. “Bella, I don’t have your necklace. Maybe you lost it, or maybe it’s somewhere in that disaster you call a room.” “Don’t you dare talk to me like that!” Bella shrieked. She stepped closer, her face red with anger. “I’m done with this conversation,” I said, standing up. I grabbed my book and blanket and began walking away. “Don’t you walk away from me, you b***h!” Bella screamed. Before I could react, Bella lunged forward and grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking hard. Pain shot through my scalp as I yelped and instinctively pushed Bella away. Bella stumbled backward, flailing as she fell into a nearby bush. Her hair caught in the branches, and with a sharp yank, a few strands ripped free. “You monster!” Bella screeched, tears streaming down her face. Before I could respond, Celinda appeared, her heels clicking against the stone path. Her sharp eyes darted between the two girls, taking in Bella’s disheveled state and my clenched fists. “What on earth is going on here?” Celinda demanded, her voice cold and cutting. “Camille attacked me!” Bella sobbed, clutching her head dramatically. “She ripped out my hair!” “That’s not what happened!” I said, my voice tight with anger. “Bella grabbed my hair first! I was just defending myself!” Celinda’s lips curled into a cruel sneer as she approached. “Defending yourself? Against poor Bella? You’ve always been so ungrateful, Camille. Always causing trouble.” “That’s not true,” I said, my voice trembling with frustration. “You’ve hated me from the start, and now you’re just looking for reasons to make me look bad!” Celinda raised an eyebrow. “Why would I need to look for reasons when you hand them to me so easily?” Just then, my father appeared, his face lined with exhaustion. He looked between the three women and sighed heavily. “What’s going on here?” “Camille attacked Bella,” Celinda said smoothly, placing a hand on Bella’s shoulder. “She’s been acting out again, and honestly, I don’t know what we’re supposed to do with her anymore.” “That’s a lie!” I burst out. “Bella grabbed my hair, and—” “Enough, Camille,” Dad interrupted, his voice weary. “Why can’t you just get along? You’re supposed to be the mature one.” I stared at him, my heart sinking. “You’re seriously just going to believe them? Without even asking me what happened?” “You’re always so defensive,” he said, shaking his head. “Maybe you should think about why that is.” “Maybe it’s because no one ever listens to me!” I shot back, my voice cracking. “Stop yelling,” he said sharply. “You’re making a scene. This is exactly what I’m talking about—immaturity and drama.” Behind him, Celinda smirked, her voice dripping with false concern. “I just don’t feel safe with her in the house anymore. She’s so… unpredictable. So cruel.” Dad rubbed his temple, sighing. “I don’t know why you’re acting like this, Camille. Maybe… maybe therapy would help.” I felt the words hit me like a slap. I stared at him, my throat tightening. “You really think I’m the problem?” “Camille, please,” he said tiredly. “Just go to your room and cool off.” Hurt and furious, I grabbed my things and stormed off. As I walked away, I heard Celinda’s soft, crooning voice. “We’re only trying to help her, dear. She just doesn’t see it yet.” Slamming the door to my room, I locked it behind me and collapsed onto my bed. I buried my face in my pillow, screaming until my throat hurt. Hot tears spilled down my cheeks as I clutched the fabric, my chest heaving. I was so tired—tired of this house, this life, these people. The weight of it all threatened to crush me, but I forced myself to breathe, to focus. *One week left,* I thought, the mantra looping through my mind like a lifeline. *One week, and then you’ll be free.* My breathing slowed as the words repeated in my head. One week. I just had to survive one more week, and then I would leave this house, this life, and these people behind forever.