Love By Design

A Future Not My Own

The rest of the day was a blur. Papa's words hung in the air leaving me feeling wrong-footed and bewildered. I couldn't process the sheer audacity of his proposal. Married? To someone I'd never met? It was too much to wrap my head around.

As I went through my daily routine, my emotions seesawed wildly. One moment, I felt a deep sense of gratitude towards Papa for supporting my writing dreams. I wanted to make him proud, to compensate him for his sacrifices. The thought of fulfilling his wishes, of making him happy tugged at my heart.

But the next moment, a wave of frustration washed over me. I wanted to shout, to scream against the very idea of an arranged marriage. It felt like a betrayal of everything I stood for. I was a writer, a free spirit, not some pawn to be used in a game of obligations.

As the day wore on, my mind became a jumbled mess of conflicting emotions. I couldn't focus on my work, couldn't piece together two sentences. My writing, usually my happy place, seemed like a distant memory.

As the night descended, I lay in bed, wide awake, my thoughts racing like a runaway train. Sleep taunted me with its absence. My mind refused to let me escape the prison of thoughts. As the hours ticked by, the silence in my room grew thicker, until it felt like a weight crushing me beneath it.

Mama's soft voice cut through the darkness as she entered my room and sat down beside me on the bed.

"How was your day today honey?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with concern.

I stared at her, dazed, her words seemed to come from a distant place, echoing in my mind without quite registering.

I nodded, trying to focus, but my brain felt like mush. "It... it was fine"I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.

Maman's expression turned skeptical, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Really?" she asked, her tone gentle but probing.

I shrugged, feeling a wave of guilt wash over me. I didn't want to lie to Maman, but I couldn't bring myself to talk.

Maman placed a gentle hand on my shoulder "Julien, my love, I know something's wrong." she said softly.

I looked up at her, feeling a lump form in my throat. I wanted to tell her everything, to unburden myself of the weight crushing me. But the words were stuck in my throat, refusing to come out.

Mama's expression turned encouraging, her eyes shining with optimism. "Jules, I know this may come as a shock to you but I truly believe this is a great opportunity. Asher is a good young man and I think you two could really connect."

She paused, studying me intently. "I know you're hesitant but I want you to keep an open mind. Give Asher a chance, Julien. Get to know him, talk to him... I think you'll be pleasantly surprised."

I felt a surge of frustration at her words. Didn't she understand? This wasn't about giving someone a chance, it was about my whole life being decided for me.

"But, Mama..." I began. She placed a gentle finger on my lips, silencing me. "Just think about it, Julien. That's all I'm asking. Think about the possibilities, the future... and maybe, just maybe, you'll see that this is an opportunity worth exploring."

I nodded slowly, feeling a sense of resignation wash over me. I knew Maman wouldn't give up on this. As I lay back in bed, my mind racing with thoughts of Asher and this proposed marriage, I couldn't shake off the feeling that my life was slipping further and further out of my control.

The next day......

I woke up to the sound of Mama's cheerful voice, feeling like I'd been hit by a train. My eyes were gritty, my head throbbed and my body ached from the lack of sleep. I groggily opened my eyes to find Maman standing over me, a bright smile on her face.

"Bonjour, mon amour" she chimed, pulling back the curtains to let the sunlight flood in. "Today's the big day. We're meeting Asher and his parents for lunch."

I groaned, rubbing my eyes. Why did she have to be so... cheerful? Couldn't she see I was dying over here?

"Maman, can't it wait?' I mumbled, my voice barely above a whisper. 'I didn't get any sleep."

Maman's expression turned sympathetic but only for a moment. "I know dear, but we can't reschedule. Asher's family is only in town for a short while and we need to make a good impression."

I let out a sigh, tossing off the covers. "Fine. But if I fall asleep in my soup, it's on you."

I shuffled to the bathroom, my movements still a bit sluggish from the lack of sleep. But as I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I felt a surge of determination. I was going to make a good impression, no matter what.

I took extra care with my morning routine, carefully shaving, trimming, and styling my hair. I splashed on some cologne, making sure I smelled as good as I looked. It was all about confidence, I told myself.

But as I was getting dressed, I couldn't shake off the thought that I was doing all this for Asher. I wanted him to like me, to think I was... worthy. It was an unsettling feeling but I couldn't deny it.

Maybe, just maybe, if Asher and I started off as friends, this whole arranged marriage thing wouldn't be so bad. Maybe we could even... enjoy each other's company?

I gave myself a once-over in the mirror, smoothing out any wrinkles in my shirt. I knew I looked good. I'd always been told I was exceptionally pretty with my baby blue eyes, heart-shaped lips and blond hair. My slim yet toned physique didn't hurt either.

As the son of a prominent businessman, I'd grown accustomed to attending high-profile events and parties. And in those circles, appearance mattered. People judged you on how you looked, no matter how shallow it seemed.

So, I made sure to take care of myself. I worked out regularly, ate well and dressed good. It wasn't just about looking good for others though, I genuinely enjoyed the process of self-care.