Hop, Skip, Wed

Chapter 4

“You call it madness, but I call it love.”

Don Byas

***

The taxi driver regarded me with a perplexed expression as I hastily entered his vehicle and manually locked the doors. It was understandable, considering the abruptness of my actions. Nonetheless, he complied with my request, and the engine hummed to life, providing a sense of relief. I silently prayed that the man from the airport wouldn't reach my parents' house before me, casting a watchful gaze outside the car window even as we distanced ourselves from the airport.

As the taxi pulled into my parents' driveway, I wasted no time in gathering my suitcases, depositing them on the ground. Swiftly settling the fare with the driver, I bolted towards the front door, leaving the luggage behind, confident that someone else would retrieve them on my behalf.

Upon entering the house, a wave of gratitude washed over me as I realized that I had managed to arrive before him. My luck had held, at least for now. The sight of him sitting smugly on the couch, amidst my family, soured my elation. They finally noticed my presence and began to greet me, but I couldn't tear my gaze away from the arrogant man who had taken up residence in my parents' abode. I longed to wipe that smug smirk off his face.

"Sophie, why don't you go freshen up? I'll set the table. You must be hungry. Archer's family will be here any moment," my mother suggested, her voice laced with a tinge of concern.

"But I have-" I began, before my mother interrupted, her tone gentle but firm.

"You should really go freshen up. We can talk later, sweetie."

With a heavy sigh, I trudged up the stairs, wracking my brain for a plan to erase that smirk from his face. Gently placing a still-sleeping Mia on my bed, I encircled her with pillows to prevent her from rolling off. The towel and toiletries left by my mother awaited me, and I seized them before entering the bathroom.

I indulged in a quick shower, wrapping myself in a plush bathrobe afterwards, hoping that my suitcase had been delivered to my room. Stepping out of the bathroom, my heart nearly leaped out of my chest as I discovered Archer sitting on my bed, cooing at the now-awake Mia.

"What the hell? What are you doing here?" I exclaimed, my voice a mixture of surprise and annoyance.

Archer turned to look at me, hastily releasing Mia's hand, which he had been holding. His glare met my eyes, and for a brief moment, silence filled the room, pregnant with unspoken questions. Embarrassment and fury surged within me, prompting me to pull my hand out of his grip.

"Don't ever touch me again. Now get out of my room," I seethed, my voice trembling with suppressed anger.

"Don't tell me what to do! Your mom asked me to bring your suitcase up," he retorted, his frustration evident.

"Okay, thank you. You can leave now," I replied curtly, my patience waning.

"What the hell was that at the airport?"

"What?" I feigned innocence, desperately hoping to maintain the façade.

"Why did you lie?"

"Don't swear, there's a child in the room, and I don't answer to you. Get out of my room," I retorted, my words laced with defiance.

The tension in the room escalated, my determination to assert myself growing stronger. However, before I could make my escape, a knock echoed from the bedroom door, disrupting the charged atmosphere.

"Sophie?" my mother's voice called out.

Clearing my throat, I mustered a veneer of composure, aiming to sound as natural as possible. "Yeah?" I responded, attempting to convey a sense of normalcy.

"Hurry up! Archer's parents are here," my mother urged.

"Okay, I'll be...right out," I managed to reply, a sense of relief flooding over me as her footsteps gradually faded away.

Archers' eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched. "Fine, do that. But remember, they'll find someone else for you to marry, and he might not be as understanding as me."

A spark of realization flickered within me, my mind grappling with the gravity of his words. What if the person chosen for me didn't appreciate children? Would they demand that I abandon my aspirations of supporting the orphanage? Doubt clouded my thoughts, though I refused to let Archer witness my vulnerability.

"I'll think about it," I responded, my tone purposefully noncommittal.

"Well, you don't have much time. My parents expect a decision by tomorrow, or they'll find another match for me," he warned, leaving me to contemplate the weight of his ultimatum.

Confusion gnawed at me as I struggled to comprehend why Archer, an undoubtedly attractive man, had willingly embarked on this path of arranged marriage. With his charm and appeal, he could easily pursue a union of his own choosing. So why subject himself to the confines of tradition? It made sense for me to acquiesce, following the path predetermined by my parents and embracing an arrangement that offered solace in its predictability. The prospect of a loveless marriage didn't perturb me; I merely sought reprieve from my parents' incessant demands. However, marrying him was out of the question. His arrogance grated on my nerves, solidifying my resolve.

As the echoes of our confrontation lingered, a multitude of emotions churned within me, sparking the flame of rebellion. I was determined to resist the constraints imposed upon me, even if it meant challenging the expectations of my own family.