Side-eyes
1193 Words
I wake up to the sound of my phone ringing.
Groaning, I roll over on the bed and start patting around blindly for it. My eyes are barely open. My voice sounds like gravel. I look at the screen, and it my best friend. Lisa
“Hello, Lisa,” I mumble, sounding as grumpy as I feel.
“You sound like you got hit by a truck,” Lisa says, chipper as always. I can practically hear her smirking through the phone.
“I feel like I got hit by Ted Lawson in a suit made of contracts and obligation.”
There’s a pause, then a snort. “Dramatic much?”
“No. Just honest.”
“Did you sleep at all?”
“Barely. It's hard to sleep in a house where your mom signs your life away over wine and finger foods.”
There’s a pause, then her usual sarcasm kicks in. “Oh right, the marriage thing. That tiny little detail.”
“Yeah. That.”
I sit up slowly, dragging the blanket off me. My hair’s a mess, and I don’t care. The sun’s already spilling through the curtains, warm and annoying.
“I still can’t believe it,” Lisa says. “Your mom really just... arranged a whole marriage behind your back?”
“Like it was brunch.”
She exhales dramatically. “So you haven’t met him yet?”
“Nope.”
“What’s his name again?”
“Ted Lawson.”
“Right Lawson...Lawson?”
“Exactly. The empire.”
“Oh my God,” she says. “Dora, that’s not a marriage. That’s a press release.”
“I know.”
I swing my legs off the bed and rest my elbows on my knees, staring at nothing.
“She says it’s to clear some family debt,” I mutter. “Dad owed them. He died. Now I’m the payment.”
Lisa goes quiet for a beat. “That’s... messed up.”
“I know.”
“Do you know anything about this guy?”
I grab my phone, unlock it, and scroll through old articles I’d half-read the night before. His name pops up too often, charity galas, corporate deals, finance awards. And one very long list of broken engagements.
“Forty-ish. Cold. Businessman. Breaks off engagements like clockwork. Basically Prince Charming.”
Lisa groans. “Sounds like a dream.”
“I’m thrilled.”
There’s silence again, but it’s the kind of silence where you know your best friend is trying to figure out what to say without making it worse.
“I don’t know what to do,” I admit quietly. “I don’t want to marry some stranger, Lisa. I don’t care how rich he is.”
“You shouldn’t have to.”
“Try telling my mother that.”
“She’s always been intense but this is next level.”
“She sees it as a win.”
There’s a pause.
”Spoken to your sisters yet?”
”Nope. I haven't even seen them yet.”
“You gonna talk to your them today?”
“Yeah, supposedly. Mom says I should ‘reconnect.’”
Lisa lets out a laugh. “With Evelyn? That should be healing.”
“Frances might be fine. Evelyn’s probably already picked out my wedding dress and ordered a champagne tower.”
“Godspeed.”
I smile faintly. “Thanks. I’ll call you later.”
“Update me on everything.”
“Everything.”
I hang up and drag myself into the bathroom. I turn on the hot water, and the shower does nothing to calm the chaos in my head. I spend fifteen minutes staring at my reflection, wondering what version of me I’m supposed to be today before leaving the bathroom.
Eventually, I give up trying to be presentable and throw on a tank top and loose jeans with no makeup. Hair in a bun, I step out I’m not here to play dress up.
I make it downstairs, and the house is already awake. I can hear the usual clatter of footsteps, voices echoing faintly, and the faint smell of fresh coffee drifts in from the kitchen.
It’s been five months, but it feels like I never left. The place looks exactly the same and feels the same too. Fancy and cold.
I walk into the lounge and that's where I find them.
Frances is lounging in a silk robe, flipping through a magazine like she’s starring in her own skincare commercial. Evelyn’s perched on the arm of the couch, scrolling through her phone like the world revolves around her thumbs.
They both look up when I walk in.
“Well, well, well,” Evelyn says, lifting an eyebrow. “Sleeping beauty lives.”
“Morning to you too,” I reply flatly.
Frances gives me a half smile. “You look... casual.”
“It’s 10am.”
Evelyn replies, rising to her feet. “Theres always time for glam.”
I roll my eyes and drop into one of the armchairs, kicking off my slippers.
“Mom told us you’d be here,” Frances says, closing her magazine. “Surprised you actually showed.”
“Didn’t have much of a choice.”
Evelyn smirks. “You never do around here.”
I shoot her a look. She smiles wider, like that’s exactly the reaction she wanted.
“So,” Frances says carefully, “I assume Mom told you?”
“About the engagement? Yeah. She did.”
“Thoughts?”
“I think it’s insane,” I say, rubbing my temples. “I think I’m twenty-two, not a pawn on her corporate chessboard.”
Evelyn shrugs. “You could’ve been living broke in an apartment with leaky pipes and a cat named Doorknob. You’re marrying into the Lawsons. Count your blessings.”
“Thanks, Evelyn. I’ll be sure to count while I cry myself to sleep.”
Frances gives her a look, but Evelyn just leans against the wall, unbothered.
“Look,” Frances says gently, “I know this sucks. I do. But... she thinks she’s doing the right thing.”
“She’s doing the convenient thing,” I say.
They go quiet again.
I know I sound bitter. Maybe I am.
I didn’t ask to be born into this family and I certainly didn’t ask to be the chosen one. Evelyn’s older. Frances is more elegant. And I’m the one who left.
“Have either of you met him?” I ask.
Frances shakes her head. “No. Just seen him in articles.”
“I doubt he even wants this,” I say.
Evelyn hums. “Doesn’t matter what he wants. Same as you.”
My jaw tightens.
“I’m going back to my room,” I say, getting up. “Let me know when the crown fitting is.”
“Don’t forget the gloves,” Evelyn calls after me.
I don’t turn around.
I head back up the stairs, one step at a time, heart pounding like I’ve just run a marathon. I close my door and exhale.
Day one, and I already want to scream.
- Writer
