Love By Design

When Worlds Collide

As I walked alongside Mama to the car, the warm sunlight danced across my face but my stomach remained twisted in knots. The rustle of the trees and the song birds seemed to mock me, their carefree joy a stark contrast to my anxiety.

Papa opened the car door for us, his expression encouraging but I couldn't shake off the feeling of dread. As we drove through the streets, the scenery outside became a blur. Everything seemed to fade into the background as my mind focused on the unknown.

Asher. What would he be like? Would we get along? Would I be able to tolerate him, let alone marry him?

The questions swirled in my head like a hailstorm, making my heart race and my palms sweat. Fear and anxiety wrestled with excitement and a nibbling hope. Maybe, just maybe, this wouldn't be as bad as I thought.

As we turned onto the street, the buildings grew taller, their sleek glass glinting in the sunlight. We pulled up in front of a stunning house, its entrance adorned by a beautiful flower garden.

Papa turned off the engine and we sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the soft hum of the air conditioning. Maman reached over and patted my hand reassuringly.

"Everything will be okay", she whispered. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what was to come.

As we stepped out of the car and onto the porch, I felt a sense of trepidation wash over me. This was it, the moment I'd been dreading and anticipating in equal measure. Papa rang the doorbell, and we waited in silence for what felt like an eternity. Then the door swung open, and my heart skipped a beat.

The man standing before us was...dreamy. That was the only word that came to mind as I took in his features, his piercing green eyes and his messy, dark hair. He looked like he'd just rolled out of bed and yet, he exuded an effortless charm that left me breathless.

"Asher," Mama exclaimed, beaming with delight. "It's so lovely to see you again."

Asher's warm smile faltered for a moment as his gaze met mine. I felt a jolt of electricity run through my veins as he held my gaze, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Then, he looked away and the spell was broken.

"Please, come in," Asher said, opening the door wider and stepping aside to let us in. "My parents are waiting for us in the living room."

As we entered the house, I couldn't help but steal glances at Asher. He seemed just as curious about me, his eyes flicking towards me whenever he thought I wasn't looking. I felt a flutter in my chest, and suddenly, this arranged marriage didn't seem quite so daunting after all.

He led us to the living room where his parents were seated on a plush sofa. They exchanged warm smiles and pleasantries with Mama and Papa, while I stood awkwardly, trying to make sense of the unfamiliar surroundings.

Asher's mother, a petite woman with a kind face, turned her attention to me, her eyes sparkling with delight. "Oh, Julien, you're even more handsome than I imagined" she cooed, her voice dripping with affection.

Before I could react, she reached out and pinched my cheeks, her fingers gentle but firm. I felt a surge of embarrassment as she continued to fawn over me, treating me like a child. "You're so cute, Julien, I just want to squeeze you" she exclaimed.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Asher trying to stifle a laugh, his lips twitching with amusement. I felt a flush rise to my cheeks as I tried to extricate myself from her clutches but she held tight, still babbling on about how adorable I was.

Asher's father, a tall, imposing figure with a kind smile, intervened, gently prying his wife's fingers from my cheeks. "Dear, let the poor boy breathe," he chuckled, winking at me.

I smiled weakly, feeling a mix of relief and mortification. Asher, still trying to contain his laughter, caught my eye and mouthed 'sorry' behind his mother's back. I raised an eyebrow, and he grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

As we settled into the sofa, the conversation flowed easily, with Mama and Asher's mother, Rachel, reminiscing about their childhood days. They laughed and chatted about their time together at school, sharing stories of mischief.

Meanwhile, Papa and Asher's father, Dr. Holland, engaged in a more serious discussion about their respective businesses. They talked about the challenges of their jobs and the sacrifices they made for their families, how their work often kept them away from home, missing precious moments with their family.

I listened intently, learning more. I discovered that Asher was a doctor, just like his father and that he specialized in pediatrics. Rachel, on the other hand, had majored in computer tech but had given up her career to focus on raising Asher.

As the conversation continued, I found myself stealing glances at Asher, who was sitting beside me, listening attentively to our parents' conversation. I noticed the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, and the way his hair curled slightly at the nape of his neck.

Asher caught me looking at him and raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. I felt a flush rise to my cheeks as I quickly looked away, trying to compose myself.

Just as I thought the conversation was going smoothly, the mothers decided to unleash the embarrassing childhood stories. Rachel and Maman giggled as they reminisced about our toddler years.

Mama pulled out her phone and started showing pictures of me in my diaper, covered in mashed peas. Rachel chimed in with Asher's potty training mishaps, complete with sound effects.

The fathers exchanged amused glances, clearly entertained by the spectacle. Asher and I, on the other hand, were mortified. I sank lower into the sofa, my face burning with embarrassment.

Asher caught my eye and mouthed 'help me'. I sympathized with him but couldn't help but laugh at his misfortune. It seemed we had both been subjected to similar forms of maternal torture.

Asher's sudden movement caught me off guard. He shifted in close, his thigh brushing against mine, and laid a hand on my back. His touch sent a shiver down my spine as he leaned in, his voice barely audible.

"Let's make a break for it" he whispered, his breath tickling my ear.

I raised an eyebrow, unsure what he had planned, but his mischievous grin was infectious. I nodded and we both quietly stood up, trying not to draw attention from our parents.

Asher's hand remained on my back, guiding me as we edged away from the sofa. The mothers were too engrossed in their conversation to notice our escape but the fathers caught on, exchanging knowing glances.

As we slipped out of the living room, his hand fell away, leaving me feeling a little bereft. We shared a conspiratorial smile and I felt a spark of excitement. Where was he taking me?