THE FORCED MARRIAGE
1158 Words
#JOCELYN’S POV#
“You won’t?”
The words came sharp, laced with venom from my stepmother’s lips. Her eyebrows arched in disbelief, her eyes narrowing like daggers as she stared at me from across the room. My father didn’t say a word, but the way he folded his newspaper slowly, deliberately, told me everything I needed to know, he was just as stunned.
Then Megan laughed. A bitter, sarcastic laugh that stung worse than any slap.
“You’re seriously saying you won’t get married?” she said, standing up so fast the chair screeched backward. “Even when your mother’s life is on the line? One billion handed to you after marriage, and you say no?”
“Yes,” I said, barely above a whisper, but loud enough. “I won’t.”
My voice trembled, but my eyes didn’t flinch.
“I’m leaving.”
I turned to walk away, needing to breathe, needing to get out of that suffocating room filled with people who shared my blood but none of my heart. But Megan was already in front of me, her hand pressed against the doorframe.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she hissed. “You can’t get married to him? Oh, please. Don’t make me laugh.”
“Yes, I can't!”
Megan tilted her head to the side and looked at me like I was dirt beneath her designer shoes.
“You’re just like him,” she sneered. “You and that crippled billionaire? Perfect match. He’s broken, and so are you. He’s useless. You’re pathetic. You two belong together.”
Her words sliced me open. But I couldn’t even find the energy to fight back.
“I don’t care what you think,” I said, holding back tears. “He’s not my problem. You are. And Dad—” I turned to look at him—“he’s never been my father. Not once. He only acknowledges one daughter, and that’s you, Megan. So marry him yourself. I’m done.”
I stepped past her, but again she blocked me.
“So you’re going to let your mother die?” she said coldly.
I froze.
My chest burned with the weight of that sentence. My lips quivered, my knees felt weak, and the tears I’d been trying to hold back welled up until they spilled over.
I hated her. I hated her so much in that moment for using the one person I loved most in the world against me.
I shoved past her and left without saying another word. My feet carried me to nowhere. I didn’t care where I was going. I just needed to walk. Needed to escape.
The skies were as broken as I felt. Grey, cold, and cruel. And when the rain came, it wasn’t soft, it was brutal, soaking me to the skin in seconds, but I didn’t stop. My hair clung to my face, my clothes stuck to my skin, but I just kept walking. Blinded by the tears and the downpour.
I found a call center, my hands trembling as I grabbed the phone. My fingers shook as I dialed his number.
Ring... Ring...
“Hello?” came the familiar voice.
“William…” I choked out. “It’s me. Jocelyn. Please, I need your help. Please, my mom... she’s dying. I need money. I need help…”
I broke.
Right there in the middle of the tiny booth, I crumbled into tears. I cried so hard my stomach hurt. But William said nothing. Not even a breath.
The line went dead.
I was on my own.
The doctor’s words from earlier echoed in my head. “She won’t survive another day without that money.”
I wiped my face, but the tears and rain blended together, making it impossible to tell them apart.
Then I ran. I ran through the streets, past cars and people who didn’t stop to look. I didn’t even bother with a bus this time. I ran until my legs burned, until I stood once again in front of the gates to my father’s house, drenched, broken, and desperate.
The guards looked at me like I was a ghost.
I walked in.
Stepmother looked up, her face a perfect mask of smugness. Megan smirked behind her, arms crossed. My father didn’t even bother looking up this time.
“You’re here again?” he muttered.
“Yes,” I whispered. “I’m here.”
They all stared.
“I accept,” I said, sinking to my knees. Rainwater dripped from my clothes, pooling around me on their pristine marble floor. “I’ll marry him. Just… please, send the money. Save my mom.”
Stepmother raised her brows, clearly satisfied. “Get her ready,” she said, turning to one of the maids.
It all happened so fast after that. They pulled me into a room, stripped my wet clothes off, and pushed a white gown onto me. It fit perfectly. Of course it did. They’d already bought it, already planned everything. I was just the last piece of the puzzle.
I stood in front of the mirror, unable to recognize the girl staring back. Her makeup was perfect, her dress flawless, but her eyes, her eyes were empty.
I was about to marry someone I didn’t know.
And not out of love.
But because I had no choice.
The music started. They said it was time.
My father, for the first time, stood beside me and held out his arm.
I hesitated, then slipped my hand into his.
It was ice cold.
We walked.
Each step echoed like a death sentence in the hollow, decorated hall. I saw him at the altar, seated in a black custom-made wheelchair, hands clasped in his lap. He didn’t look up as I approached. His name was Nicholas.
That was the first time I heard his name.
Nicholas.
The crippled billionaire I was about to marry.
I stood beside him. My knees wobbled.
The judge cleared his throat. “Do you, Jocelyn, take Nicholas to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
My lips parted, but no sound came out. I could feel everyone watching. Megan. Stepmother. Dad.
I thought of my mother lying in that hospital bed, slipping away second by second.
And then...
“Yes,” I said, my voice barely audible, my throat raw. “I do.”
The judge nodded.
“And do you, Nicholas , take Jocelyn—”
“I do,” he said, cool and quick. His voice was calm. Controlled. But I still hadn’t seen his eyes.
“You are now husband and wife,” the judge announced. “You may sign the registry.”
My hand trembled as I took the pen and signed.
Then he signed.
Just like that, it was done.
I was married.
To a stranger in a wheelchair named Nicholas.
And I had no idea what I had just walked into.
- Writer
