CAMILITA

Chapter 3: The stranger

Camilita did not sleep that night.

Every time she closed her eyes, she heard her father's voice repeating the same cruel words.

You don't have a choice.

The sentence followed her into every corner of her mind, leaving her with a terrible feeling that something precious had been taken from her before she had even understood what was happening.

Outside her bedroom window, rain tapped against the glass. The old heater rattled beneath it, struggling to warm a room that had grown cold long before the weather changed.

Camilita lay on her side, staring at the wall.

She was seventeen. She should have been worrying about school assignments, friendships, and what she wanted to become after graduation. Instead, her parents had decided that her future belonged to a stranger.

She reached beneath her pillow and pulled out her notebook.

On the last page, she wrote three words.

I want to leave.

She stared at them for a long time.

Then she closed the notebook and hid it beneath her mattress.

She had no money, nowhere to go, and no idea how to survive alone. The thought of leaving frightened her almost as much as the thought of staying.

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.

"Camilita?"

Her mother's voice came through the door.

"Please open the door, sweetheart."

Camilita wiped her face before answering.

"What do you want?"

"Can I come in?"

She hesitated, then unlocked the door.

Margaret stepped inside carrying a mug of warm milk. She placed it on the desk, glanced at the bed, and sighed when she noticed the untouched blanket.

"You haven't slept."

"I couldn't."

Her mother pulled the chair away from the desk and sat down.

For several seconds, neither spoke.

Finally, Margaret said, "Your father is angry about what happened earlier."

Camilita stared at her.

"Of course he is. I embarrassed him by refusing to marry a man I don't know."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean, Mom?"

Margaret pressed her hands together.

"Your father believes this is the only way we can get out of our situation."

"And what do you believe?"

Her mother looked away.

The silence hurt more than an argument would have.

Camilita swallowed.

"Did you even think about me before agreeing to this?"

"Every day, I think about you."

"Then how could you do this?"

Margaret's eyes filled with tears.

"Because I'm tired, Camilita. I'm tired of watching your father struggle. I'm tired of worrying about losing this house. I'm tired of wondering where our next meal will come from."

"So you decided I should pay for it?"

"No!"

"Then explain it to me!"

Her voice cracked, and she immediately lowered it, afraid her father might hear.

Margaret reached for her hand.

Camilita pulled away.

"You keep telling me that we're family," she whispered. "But when it mattered, you made a decision without asking me. You didn't even warn me."

"I thought you would understand eventually."

"Understand what? That my life is worth less than your bills?"

Margaret began to cry.

For a moment, Camilita wanted to comfort her. It was an old instinct, one she had followed since childhood whenever her mother became overwhelmed.

But this time, she couldn't move.

She was the daughter in this room. She was the one who needed protection.

Yet somehow, she was still expected to comfort the people who had betrayed her.

Margaret stood.

"Try to get some sleep. We'll talk again tomorrow."

"Mom?"

Her mother paused at the door.

"Do you know anything about him?"

Margaret's shoulders stiffened.

"About whom?"

"Alexander Hayes. Do you know what kind of man he is?"

Her mother turned around slowly.

"He's wealthy. Your father says he's respectable."

"That isn't what I asked."

Margaret had no answer.

After she left, Camilita sat motionless until the hallway became quiet.

She had expected her parents to make mistakes. Everyone did. But she had never imagined they would place her future in the hands of someone they barely seemed to understand themselves.

The following morning, Camilita woke to the sound of her father's voice downstairs.

She dressed quickly and entered the kitchen.

Richard was standing beside the table, speaking on his phone. His expression changed when he noticed her.

"I'll call you back," he said before ending the conversation.

Camilita poured herself a glass of water.

"Who was that?"

"None of your business."

"Was it Mr. Hayes?"

Richard's jaw tightened.

"You need to learn when to stop asking questions."

She set the glass down.

"How long have you known him?"

"Long enough."

"How long is that?"

"Do you intend to question everything I say?"

"I just want to know who you're asking me to marry!"

Richard struck the table with his palm.

"You are not being asked. The decision has been made."

Camilita flinched.

Her father noticed, but rather than soften, he looked irritated.

"Get ready. Mr. Hayes will be visiting this afternoon."

Her heart began to pound.

"Why?"

"Because he wants to speak with you."

"I don't want to see him."

"That is unfortunate."

"Dad, please—"

"Enough, Camilita!"

The sharpness of his voice silenced her.

He picked up his coat and headed for the door.

Before leaving, he turned back.

"And don't embarrass this family again."

The door slammed behind him.

Camilita stood alone in the kitchen, trembling with anger and fear.

By two o'clock that afternoon, the rain had stopped.

A black sedan pulled into the driveway, its polished surface looking strangely out of place beside the family's aging house.

Camilita watched from the living room window as Alexander Hayes stepped out.

He wore a dark coat over a tailored suit. He checked his watch before approaching the front door, carrying the same leather briefcase she remembered from his first visit.

Richard opened the door almost immediately.

"Mr. Hayes. Welcome."

"Richard."

They shook hands.

Camilita noticed something that disturbed her.

Her father was smiling.

She could not remember the last time he had looked so pleased to see anyone.

Alexander entered and removed his coat.

"Is Camilita here?"

"She's upstairs. I'll get her."

"No need."

Alexander's eyes moved toward the staircase.

"I would prefer to speak with her directly."

Richard hesitated, then called her name.

Camilita descended slowly, gripping the railing.

When she reached the living room, Alexander stood.

"Good afternoon, Camilita."

She remained near the bottom of the stairs.

"Good afternoon."

"Thank you for agreeing to speak with me."

"I didn't agree. My father told me to come downstairs."

For the first time, Alexander's expression changed. It was a small movement, almost a smile, but there was no warmth in it.

"You're clearly unhappy with the arrangement."

"What do you expect? You're asking me to marry you, and I don't even know you."

"Fair enough."

He gestured toward the armchair.

"May we sit?"

She sat on the opposite end of the couch, keeping as much distance between them as possible.

Alexander placed his briefcase beside his chair.

"I want you to understand something. Your parents have explained their financial circumstances to me. I know what this arrangement means to them."

"And what does it mean to you?"

He studied her for a moment.

"That is a reasonable question."

"Then answer it."

Richard shifted uncomfortably, but Alexander raised a hand to stop him from speaking.

"I have my reasons for wanting this marriage," Alexander said. "Some are personal. Others concern matters that you wouldn't understand yet."

"Then explain them."

"Not everything can be explained in one conversation."

Camilita felt frustration rising in her chest.

"Everyone keeps saying that. My parents say I should understand. You say I don't understand. But nobody will tell me anything!"

Alexander was silent.

Then he leaned forward.

"Tell me something, Camilita. If your family had enough money to pay every bill tomorrow, would you still be sitting here?"

"No."

"Would your father agree to this marriage?"

She looked at Richard.

Her father said nothing.

"No," she answered.

Alexander nodded slowly, as though her answer had confirmed something he already suspected.

He reached into his briefcase and removed a sealed envelope.

"This contains the details of the arrangement," he said, placing it on the table. "Read it if you wish. You deserve to know what has been discussed."

Richard's face darkened.

"I thought we agreed to handle this privately."

"We agreed to arrange the marriage," Alexander replied. "We did not agree that your daughter should remain ignorant of every detail."

Camilita stared at the envelope.

For the first time since this nightmare began, someone had acknowledged that she deserved an explanation.

It wasn't kindness, exactly.

But it was something.

She reached for the envelope.

Before she could open it, Alexander spoke again.

"One more thing, Camilita."

She looked up.

"Your parents have told you that I can help them financially. What they haven't told you is that the arrangement involves a promise your father made to me several months ago."

Camilita slowly turned toward Richard.

Her father had gone pale.

"What promise?" she whispered.

Richard stood abruptly.

"That's enough for today."

But Alexander did not look away from Camilita.

"Ask your father," he said quietly. "He knows exactly what I'm talking about."

And with those words, Camilita realized that the marriage wasn't the only secret her parents had kept from her.