15
Daniela
Two weeks later, Armand and I are married in front of a priest. It’s a quiet, private, somber affair, handled expediently—like a dirty chore he’s getting out of the way. I don’t invite any of my friends. I have no idea what I would tell them.
The whole time, Armand smiles only politely. He’s kind to me, but even the kiss at the altar is as cold and perfunctory as the small crowd’s applause. My heart sinks into my shoes and stays there, and as soon as I have a moment to slip off on my own at the reception, I lock myself in the bathroom and sob for a few minutes.
The sense that everything that I could possibly have had with Armand has now been ruined by this forced marriage haunts me as I smile and nod and talk stiffly through the rest of the reception. I don’t even want to lo
