Cliché, But I Love You

A Start

What is it like to have your path predetermined by your parents? It doesn't sound nice from what I can tell. Do you want to live with the future your parents have set for you? With your interests, the way you act, your friends, and even someone chosen by your parents to spend your life with. It seemed as if you were living in a prison, where your allegedly loving parents coerced you to become someone else. Not your genuine self, but someone they prefer to flaunt in front of the crowd. Eleanor could only hope for the public to know what was going on behind the scenes.

The heavy footsteps sped to their destination, stomping through puddles along the way. Outside, people rushed for cover, some with their umbrellas open. The clouds vomited down beads of tears that they had been harboring for a long time. As if by magic, puddles began to emerge, and it began to rain even harder. Eleanor's pace quickened as she remembered her parents chastising her for being late, which was wearing her out. She ran into someone as she raced home. Someone who is taller and more muscular than she is. She praised the streetlamp for not functioning this time; else, someone might have known who she is.

But I suppose lady luck isn't on her side right now. An explosion-like noise erupted, followed by a clanking sound heard from above. The tar black contaminated sky was illuminated up by branches of lightning. They were now looking at one another. Eleanor took a close look at them. The person was wearing a cap that partially covered their hair, a basic black mask that covered half of her face, and their dark brown eyes looked down at her from behind them, angry. Is it unethical to compliment someone who you have angered?

One had a startled expression on their face, while the other had hostility in their eyes. Eleanor regained her composure and backed away from the stranger she had somehow enraged. "I'm sorry for stumbling into you," she coughed, her grip on the umbrella tightening. The person she knocked into glanced aside and clicked their tongue, "Watch where you're going next time," and went away.

Eleanor breathed a sigh of relief when she realized the stranger wasn't a paparazzi. God, she despises paparazzi's. Even interviewers, she considers it a waste of her time, and I agree. She has more significant things to accomplish than discuss what might be new in her life. She continued about her business, quickly walking to where she lived. Her feet were cramping, but she ignored them. She eventually made it home after a series of hisses in response to the pain in her feet. Her eyes was drawn to the massive estate that her parents had purchased, and she was sick of seeing it. She exhaled, bracing herself for what was to come behind closed doors. Eleanor was about to unlock the gates when she was interrupted by a croaky voice.

"Miss Whitly, let me do it for you," the male guard, whom she recognizes as Mr. Williams, said. He has been a bodyguard for the Whitly family for seven years. The gate creaked open, and it wouldn't surprise me if her parents greeted her with a sneer at the front door. "Mr. Williams, how are you?" Eleanor asked the guard.

Mr. Williams returned her grin, laughing, "Same old, I'm extremely excited for my baby to be born." Mr. Williams appeared to be excited to be a father, but Eleanor says no to kids. "After that, we should celebrate," Eleanor suggested.

"Well...I already know how your parents are going to respond," he rubbed his neck as he chuckled bitterly, dismissing the lady's generous thought. Eleanor paused. That's right, how could she have forgotten? Her parents would only attend parties hosted by someone with whom they had a strong bond. For their own advantage and enjoyment. That's why she despises going to parties with her folks. She was portrayed as a prize kid, lavished with praise from others. She never liked it because the typical compliments she received were about how gorgeous she looked. It grew tiresome as the compliments were repeated over and over. She was hoping to hear something fresh, something that would make her grin uncontrollably and cause butterflies to explode on her stomach like fireworks.

She was often encircled at their table by other firms seeking an arranged marriage. With their kid looking and acting like that, she wished she could say no and leave him to wail in the corner. Fortunately, her parents did it for her. That was the only time she felt affection for her parents. Coming back to reality, Eleanor softly smiled at the devoted guard, "Just you, myself, and your wife Mr. Williams,"

"I guarantee you, my family will do nothing about it."

He raised his head in surprise, as it came as a surprise that the Whitly family's only daughter was so charitable and unlike her parents, with whom she had grown up. He grinned at her, "Well, if that's what makes you happy, then fine," Eleanor was something else as a youngster, he knew she'd grow up better and more different than her parents.

"I can't let you stand in the rain all night now."

"Oh yeah, I'm heading in now. Goodnight, Mr. Williams", they both waved each other goodbye.

Now she's up against the entrance door. She braced herself, her chest inflated and her knuckles out- and nervously opened the door to find no one there. Which was strange because she was normally met by her parents at the door and sarcastically greeted her that she had finally remembered where she lived. She entered, folding her umbrella and carefully placing it on the drying rack. She quickly removed her shoes since she didn't want anyone to know, especially her parents.

Her Father's laughter resonated as she passed by the living room. He has a visitor, their sounds muffled by the rain outside. She wanted to listen in, assuming—wait for it—she just wants to eavesdrop. But her instincts told her not to. She ignored the emotion and focused on their talk. With her back against the frigid wall and her head stuck to the side towards the living room's entrance, their voices became clearer.

She should have heeded her instincts.

"I'll inform my daughter about the arrangement."

Eleanor's ears rang and her thoughts got foggy as she grabbed her shoes and tightened her grasp on the back strap. Her footsteps banged quietly against the wooden stairs, unconcerned about whether or not they were heard. She dropped her shoes and handbag on the floor furiously as she opened her room door, receiving a smack on the hard floor. She slammed the door shut and walked over to her bed. She slumped on her bed, hiding her face in her pillows. She wanted to scream and shout and let it all out—she wanted to walk to the living room, stamp her foot and say no, and persuade her parents. But she was well aware that it would not work. Eleanor isn't stupid; she knew this day would come. After all, this is how her family functions.

Eleanor curled herself into a ball, unable to believe the time had actually arrived. She was getting engaged to a person she didn't know, a complete stranger to her. This wasn't a narrative she'd read or a movie she'd seen. This wasn't some cold-hearted CEO and their arranged marriage falling in love. Her acquaintances suggested works in the category to her. Eleanor wonders whether her so-called acquaintance is getting tired of it. What happens in the books and movies stays in the books and movies. Reality, movies, and novels are not the same thing. Heck, she isn't even interested in men.

Her hold on the cushion tightens as tears fall down her cheeks. She couldn't shake the notion that her freedom was in threat. Her freedom to do anything she wants and to be herself, even if only for a few second. Eleanor can't merely wish for freedom and hope for the best. She would be out of the prison her parents had placed her in. Her eyelids gently blinked the tears away as she felt them growing heavy, indicating that it was time for her to sleep. She didn't fight back. She slept off, lulled to sleep by her bed's comfortable surface.

Next Day

Eleanor is awakened from her rest by the soothing chirping of the birds and the delicate rustling of the leaves. She moved away from the sunshine streaming in through her windows, which were obscured by such thin drapes. She groans and rubs her eyes, trying to adapt them to the bright light that has lit her room. She sat up in bed, stretching her limbs and earning a pleasant snap, which elicited a grunt in response.

Eleanor rose from her bed and strolled towards her room's built-in bathroom, stumbling over the items she had furiously thrown the night before. When she opened her bathroom door, she was met with her puffy and red eyes from sobbing the night before. The tear marks on her cheeks were still apparent. She moaned at how awful she looked, massaged her cheeks, and wished she could be one of those individuals who are still serving and are waking up from sobbing. She doesn't want to look in the mirror and see herself as a crocodile.

She hung her towel beside the tub and took a cold shower to fully awaken. Cold drops of water streamed down her body, removing the salty flavor from her flesh. Then, like a bubble, the so-called agreement pooped on her consciousness. Making her anxious in the middle of the morning. She shook her head and attempted to shake it off, burying it deep inside her thoughts. Eleanor went about her business, her skin care regimen, and generally taking care of herself. Hygienically, people.

She neatly pressed her favorite shirt on herself, the hotdog guy dancing as the emblem against a black background. Eleanor was admiring herself in the mirror, finally feeling better after her meltdown the night before.

"Sweetie, can you come downstairs?" her Father said.

She, on the other hand, talked too soon when she was feeling better. She sighed, exhausted by the situation. She muttered under her breath about how foolish this is. She gazed at herself in the mirror once again, her brow wrinkled. With a grin on her lips, she relaxed her face. Her rage was hidden deep within her. She learnt to act from her parents, and she's a fantastic liar herself. She was so good at it that she even lied to herself about feeling better.

Eleanor down the staircase, catching her Father's unexpected and loving glance. He's acting as if he had nothing to do with this. Her father was emotionally manipulative, using his emotions to gain anything he wanted.. You guys should've seen how ugly he is when he cries, dumbass looking like a whiny kid whose Mother didn't buy him candies. She sneered at him inside, wanting to roll her eyes at the same moment, but she restrained herself. Saving it for a better time.

"My colleague and I struck an arrangement," he began.

"We've arranged a contract between you and his son."

Quick everyone, act shocked. Perhaps she might consider pursuing a career in acting. In disbelief at her Father's idiotic request, she 'widened' her eyes. Her Father chuckled seeing her reaction, "Don't worry Sweetie, Elliot's an amazing son.","Don't worry Sweetie, Elliot's an excellent son.", Shhhhh, he doesn't know Eleanor knows this trick, "Of course, Father. I know you won't set me up with someone untrustworthy," she ended the statement with a smile on her lips.

"Also, we're transferring you to another school near your betrothed, so you two can become acquainted." An irk mark emerged on her temple. She was enraged. Her Father wanted her to be alone with someone she didn't know and trust?! Eleanor longed to shout at her demon of a father. She will go to any length to stop him. She needs to come up with a strategy quickly to put a stop to all of this. She may travel to another nation and live as someone else. She may perhaps go a different route and commit arson. Planning was causing her thoughts to fog up, jumbling up words she knew didn't exist at all. Her head was hurting from all of this.

Then a plan popped on her mind.