The Mysterious Betrothed

Buried in the pages of a book in the bookstore, nineteen-year-old Sephera jumps at the loud boom of thunder crackling over the building. It is so loud; it shakes the nearby window she is sitting beside. She peers over her book out of the window. Nightfall seems to have arrived; it will be dark soon. Dark, ominous undulating clouds are beginning to cover the sky. The clouds have entirely blocked out the sun. The wind bellows hard through the trees. People are holding tight to their umbrellas as the rain beats down slowly on top of them. "Oh, no! It's almost time for dinner." Sephera quickly puts the book away and runs out the front door of the store. It was not until a few minutes into running that she remembers, she left her umbrella back at the store. Too late now, she thinks to herself. Her blue chiffon tea-length dress and high-tops are completely soaked, even before reaching the next block towards her house. "Father is going to kill me for being late again," she says to herself. Her feet keep splashing hard through the puddles while she continues to run down the sidewalk. When she reaches the block just before her house, Sephera pauses for a moment to catch her breath. Her mid-length auburn hair is dripping into her face. She looks to see if the neighbor, whose yard she cuts through every day, is home. No lights seem to be on, which means she can run through his backyard without getting caught. She crosses the road to the neighbor's yard. She hoists herself up over the fence with ease. She jumps down to the other side. The backyard is so dark, and she cannot tell where anything is. All she can see is a wall of rain. She decides to sprint across the yard. Not seeing where she is going, her foot catches a small object, a rock. Sephera trips and falls headfirst into what can only be described as wet and icy. Instantly, it felt like she was being pierced by multiple sewing needles all at once. She can feel her body submerging underwater. Light slices through the water, giving her a glimpse of the predicament, she is in. She is in the deepest part of the pool. Panicking, she uses what little strength she has left to thrust her way to the surface. Shivering, she uses her arms to pull her body through the water. Her leg muscles are failing to move, still tired from running. Her lungs are burning as she tries so hard to get to the top. Water is replacing the air in her lungs, and her body temperature is dropping dramatically. She kicks harder, but she is exhausted. She is sinking back to the bottom. Sephera realizes she is going to drown. With no strength left, she waits for the grim reaper to take her way.         Streaks of daylight are peering through the curtains as Sephera begins to open her eyes. From what she can see through her blurry eyes, there is a figure sitting by her bedside. She blinks a few times to regain full sight. She looks around the room. There is a rustic wooden four-drawer dresser by the window with a large antique mirror just above it. Next to the dresser is a tall bookcase filled with different types of books. Where am I? While trying to remember last night's events, she sees him sitting on a chair across from her. A young man who looks utterly exhausted but somehow is peacefully sleeping. His head is nestled firmly in his hand, resting on top of the arm of the chair. His messy midnight black hair covers over one of his eyes. She wonders, "Who is this beautiful creature?" She sits up on the bed, which instantly pulls the young man out of sleep. He lifts his head, and his eyes open abruptly. For a moment, his striking blue eyes met her emerald, green eyes. He smiles at her, then starts to speak. His warm, calm voice chills up her spine. "I wondered how long it would be before you woke up." He gets out of the chair and places the back of his wrist on her head. He sighs with a tone of relief, "Good, your fever finally broke." Sephera looks at him, a little confused. "What am I doing here?" she asks. He pauses for a moment, "You fell into my pool last night. You are fortunate to be alive. How do you feel?" He sits back down in his chair. Sephera pulls back the covers revealing only a high school spirit T-shirt. She is mortified to find her clothes had been changed from the night before. She yanks the covers back over her. "Where are my clothes!?" She screams in a frantic voice. The stranger comes face to face with her. He is so close she could smell the stench of pool water still lingering on his skin, feel the heat of his soft lips, and if she wanted to, she could just lean in for a kiss. He looks at her with a smile and a mischievous look in his eyes. He whispers in her ear, "Wouldn't you like to know?" She shudders with a sudden urge for him but brushes it off. She pushes him off. "I'm kidding." He laughs, pointing to the dresser. "Your dress and shoes are over there. I am going downstairs to make breakfast. Meet you soon." Waiting until he leaves, Sephera releases the breath caught in her chest. That was too close! She thought. Her heart is fluttering with a new feeling she has never felt before. She had to shut those new feelings down the moment they begin. It is something she will never get to explore anyway. She changes back into her dry clothes and longingly looks in the dresser mirror, remembering what her father said to her the day after her mother's funeral. Her mind thinks back to that mid-summer day. A year ago, Sephera hid in her room, waiting for all the guests at her mother's funeral to go home. Her cheeks are stained with tears, and her eyes had not seen sleep since her mother died. She sits quietly in the window, watching the guests come and go, paying their respects. Around sunset, everyone has finally left. She is still looking for it when there is a knock on the door. "Come in." An exhausted, sad-stricken man walks in. Before his daughter turns around, he straightens up. In a stern voice, she has never heard him use before. He tells her that she will wed next winter, whether she wants to or not. The only thing her father never said was who she was marrying. The sound of someone clearing their throat snaps her back into reality. Sephera turns to see the young man is leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded. He stood there no more than 5'7 in his nicely filled-out grey t-shirt. His jeans were tightly fitted around those sharp hips. He looked like he just rolled out of bed the way his messy black hair fell across his face. Damn, he is gorgeous! Did I just think that!? Blushing a little, she apologizes for getting lost in thought. His hand extends to her with an almost knowing look. The blood filling her cheeks tells him all he needs to know as she shyly takes his hand. "Come on; food is ready." Oh, thank God. She had never been so relieved to know he could not read her thoughts. He guides her downstairs to the kitchen. He helps her into a chair at the breakfast nook. They begin to eat in awkward silence. She looks at him, hoping he will say anything. He just keeps looking down and shoveling food into his mouth. Say something; anything would be nice. No, nothing. Really!? Sephera cannot seem to take any more of the awkward silence, so she says, "Thank you for saving me. I'm sorry I did not get your name?" She looked across the table at him. He is busily eating. "Oh right. You can call me Scott. And you are?" He looks up at her quizzically while finishing off the bits of food left in his mouth. She looked behind him at the clock. She jumped up out of her chair. "Is that the time!? I am going to be in so much trouble when I get home. Sorry, but I have to go." "Wait!" Scott says. Sephera is out the door before Scott even has a chance to get up from the table. Sephera rushes all the way home. She balks when she reaches the front door. Please don't be here. Please don't be here. She slowly opens the door and looks around. No sign of her father. A sigh of relief until she closes the door. "Sephera! Get in here." Her father's voice echoes through the house. Fear clouds her mind and takes over her entire body. She steels herself for what is to come and walks down the hallway to his office, something she has done many times. When she gets there, a dreary older gentleman is standing by the window, staring at her. His tall stature overshadows her own. Sephera quietly replies, "You called, father?" as she looks into his eyes. Those eyes that were once filled with happiness now are fierce with conviction. Her father spoke with a stern voice, "Where have you been?" She is afraid to answer, unsure what to tell him. "I-I'm sorry I just lost track of time." Without any warning, the back of his hand crosses her left cheek with force. She places her hand on her cheek, which is now writhing in pain. Tears are burning behind her eyes; she looks at him in shock. Her father has never laid a hand on her before. Who are you? What have you done with my father? She thinks to herself. There is no remorse in his eyes. He leans close to her ear and, in a demanding low-tone whisper, "You will come home by six o'clock every night, and there will be no more galivanting to the bookstore. Is that clear?" Sephera had never felt so defeated in her life. Stuttering her words, she answers, "Y-yes, sir." Her father turns away and waves his hand to tell her she is free to go. Not wanting to wait any longer, she runs out of the office and upstairs to her bedroom. She sits, her back against the door, trying to understand what had just happened. Who was that man? That was not her father; that was a monster. She had never felt so alone in her life until the moment her father hit her. Dazed and confused, she goes to her bathroom to take a shower to forget everything that has just happened. The moment her head is under the hot water, memories of her falling into the pool vividly play in her mind. Thinking back, she remembers the feeling of Scott's lips touching her. It was electrifying like something in her sprang alive. What is she feeling? She could not describe it. It is nothing, she thinks to herself. After her shower, she puts on a pair of blue jeans, her high-tops, and a baby blue off-the-shoulder blouse. Then she goes towards the kitchen downstairs. The kitchen once felt warm and welcoming, but now it is dark and lonely. She grabs an apple out of the basket on the island counter. She drifts back down the hall past the hundreds of portraits of her family lineage. A lineage that will end with her if she does not marry by her 20th birthday. An arranged marriage, a tradition that should have died a long time ago, but for some reason, it still exists in most high-end families. A week after the incident with her near-death experience and her father's abuse, Sephera stares out of the living room window gazing at the willow tree swaying in the wind. She wishes she were a leaf that could blow away to anywhere she wanted to go but knows that will never happen. "Madam, your father is requesting you in the library." Sephera turns to see her father's executive associate standing in the doorway. He is a much older man with weary eyes. The years have worn on him. "Thank you, Robert." She placed her hand on his shoulder. He looks up at her with sad, tired eyes and smiles. "It will be fine this time, I promise." Knowing well it would not be, she takes a deep breath and goes to the library. Standing outside the library, she contemplates going in or not. This was her mother's library, her hideaway from everything. The place where her mother would read to her for hours. Since her mother died, Sephera does not go in there anymore. She takes a step forward but pulls back. She does this several times before gathering her strength to walk in. As she enters the library, dust and the smell of old books fill her lungs. She turns on a light. Cobwebs are on every wood-carved bookcase. Even her mother's favorite deep red chair was covered in them. Next to the table, where her mother used to sit, was a book her mother would read to her. She runs her hand over the last book her mother ever read to her, From New Orleans with Love by Kathleen Lacroix. Unfortunately, she never finished it. She opens the book to the last page her mother read and finds an envelope. Hot tears flow freely from her eyes; she could recognize that handwriting from anywhere; it is her mother's. It…It's my mother's handwriting. Words could not express how she was feeling right now. She held the book close to her chest as her tears poured down her cheeks. Refusing to wait for her father to arrive, she takes it from the book and rushes back to her room. She closes the door behind her and sits on her bed. There in her hand is something from her mom. The very last thing she ever wrote. Her hands are trembling as she opens the letter. It reads, "My dearest daughter, This will be the last life lesson I leave for you to learn. It is something I should have told you a long time ago. As you know, it is a tradition for the family's women to be married off to another family. We do this so that both families' lineage carries on. It is our obligation, but sometimes it does not mean everything. You know of how your father, and I met, but what you do not know is he is not of lineage. Yes, you read that correctly. I am about to tell you next will have you hate me for the rest of your life, but here it is. For me to be allowed to marry your father, I made a deal with your grandfather. Should the firstborn be a girl, she will marry someone of his choosing by her twentieth birthday. Sephera stops reading. "What!? How could she agree to something like that!? She thinks to herself. She continues to learn more. "Now, please understand I love you very much and have tried so hard to keep you away from your grandfather. However, my health is declining more rapidly every day, which means I will not be here much longer to protect you. I want you to understand something when you love someone, no matter their status, you would be willing to do anything to be with them. That is what I did. I gave up my title and agreed to the offer. Your father did not know about the deal until recently, and he was furious at me. Can you blame him, though? I made him promise to keep my end of the bargain. I need you to do this for me. It is a lot to ask, but it is the only way to keep my father from buying out your father's business. With that said, I want you to remember one thing. If you genuinely love someone, it will not matter your station or your title. They will love you unconditionally. In time, you will have to make a choice. I just hope you do what is suitable for you and do not make the same mistake I did. I love your father very much, but I should have never agreed to my father's terms. I hurt you and your father by doing so, and I am sorry. Love always, Mom." Sephera finishes the letter. Anger and hurt radiate from her body. How could she agree to that!? No! I won't do it! She rushes down the stairs to her father's office and throws the note on the desk. "You knew about this, and you didn't tell me!?" She yells at him. She slams her fists onto her father's desk. "How could you agree to this!? I won't do it." Her father looks up at her; his eyes are filled with rage. "How dare you barge in here with such reckless and rude behavior? You know better than to talk to me like that!" He had raised his voice. Another thing he never used to do before her mother died. Who is this man? It wasn't her father. Her father looks down at the letter, "Where did you get this?" he asks. "You know exactly where I found it, mother's library! How could you go through with this!? Don't I have a say in all of this!? She was so angry she could not hold back her tears. Sadness had filled her father's eyes, but it was quickly gone with his next words. "No, you do not have a choice. You will marry the man your grandfather has chosen for you, and that is Final!" Not saying another word, Sephera stomps out of the office. She was so furious, and all she wanted to do was run. Her eyes are stinging with tears; she could not be in the house right now, so she runs out the front door. She sprints down the drive through the large black gates. She is not sure where to run to, so she just keeps running. Not looking where she is going, she slams into something hard and gets knocked to the ground. "You'd think after falling into my pool… you'd be more careful and pay attention to where you are going." She looks up to see the handsome man who saved her life standing in front of her. He holds out his hand. "Need a hand?" She grabs his hand and pulls herself off the ground. "Thank you," she says as she wipes the dirt from her jeans. Scott can see the stains of tears on her face. He grasps her arm, pulls her in close, and places his hand upon her cheek to wipe away a runaway tear. With sad, searching eyes, he asks, "What's the matter, Honeybee? Why is your beautiful face sullied with tears?" For a moment, she gazes into his beautiful eyes. Something about them makes her feel safe. Realizing she is too close to him; she aggressively pushes away from him. "It's nothing. I'm fine. I have to go." She turns her back on him and starts to walk away. Then behind her, she hears, "If it were nothing, then you wouldn't be crying, Honeybee." She stops in her tracks and swings back around, "Who do you think you are!? I told you I'm fine." Scott gives her a sly grin, "If you were "fine" as you put it, you wouldn't be so upset right now." Sephera is so outraged by his comment, she swings her hand to slap him across his face, but he catches her wrist. He smirks at her. "Now, now Honeybee, there's no need for violence. Should you need someone to talk to, you know where to find me." He lets go of her wrist and bows. "Until next time," he says as he walks away. "And my name is Sephera, not Honeybee!" She yells down the street. Sephera stands there, still fuming, when he disappears around the corner. Once Scott was entirely out of sight, Sephera stomps away in frustration. After a while, her pace slows down to walking speed. Eventually, she is walking back through the gates and up the dirt path towards her home. She goes inside and climbs the stairs to her room. Laying on her bed, she begins thinking about Scott again. Her blood begins to boil when she remembers that stupid smirk on his face. "Ugh, he is so arrogant!" She accidentally says aloud. Sephera quickly puts her hands over her mouth. She is really hoping her father did not hear that. She waits, but no footsteps are heard coming towards her room. She feels relieved. Long after the sun goes down, she steps out onto the balcony. There is a crisp chill in the air, but she does not care. It feels like the wind is taking all the negativity she has and is washing it away. It gives her a sense of feeling refreshed, ready to handle whatever came her way the next. As she does every night, she climbs the nearby tree and sits just above the balcony doors on the roof. Her little hideaway when she feels everything is just a little too much. She thinks about the letter her mother wrote. Sadness and anger fill her mind. She just cannot understand why her mother and father would do this to her. How is she supposed to marry someone she does not know? Will she ever meet this person before the wedding? So many unanswered questions. After a few hours, she climbs down off the roof, landing with a soft thud, then she drags herself into bed. She lays there for a while, staring at the ceiling, and then drifts off to sleep.