FROM NO TO FOREVER

Mystery woman

Chapter 2:

Maya's pov

I stood frozen at the entrance to the parlor, my heart thumping so loud I swore everyone could hear it. The room felt smaller than usual, the air thick with tension. My mom sat on the sofa, her blue gown flowing like a calm river, her smile warm but tight, like she was trying too hard to seem happy. Across from her, my dad lounged in his usual chair, wearing a plain shirt and trousers, his face carved with that familiar look of disapproval. His eyes bored into me, sharp and unyielding, making my stomach twist. Then my gaze landed on the stranger.

He was the only unfamiliar face in the room, and my mind spiraled. *Is this him?* The man my parents were so eager to hand me over to? He looked old—late thirties, maybe early forties—his face lined with a kind of confidence that made me uneasy. His suit was crisp, too polished for our modest living room, and his eyes gleamed with something I couldn’t place. Was this the man they wanted me to marry? My legs felt like lead, rooted to the spot, my thoughts a jumbled mess of fear and anger.

“Maya, come greet our visitor,” my dad’s husky voice cut through the fog in my head, sharp and commanding.

I forced my feet to move, plastering a fake smile on my face. “Good evening, sir,” I said, dragging out the “sir” with just enough edge to make my point. He didn’t seem to notice—or care. Instead, he leaned forward, his smile widening.

“Wow, you look even more beautiful than the picture,” he said, his voice smooth, almost too smooth. “My madam will be pleased.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Madam?” The word slipped out before I could stop it, sharp and loud. My mom, sitting close enough to touch, pinched my thigh under the table, hard enough to make me wince. I shot her a look, but she was too busy smiling at the man like nothing was wrong.

“Yes, my madam,” the man continued, unfazed, his smile never wavering. “She was supposed to be here with her son—your future husband—but something came up, so they couldn’t make it. I came alone.”

I scoffed, the sound louder than I intended. “They couldn’t call to change the date or let us know they weren’t coming? Do they think we’re a joke or something?” My voice rose, sharp with indignation. I could feel the heat creeping up my neck, my hands balling into fists at my sides.

My dad cleared his throat, the sound heavy with warning. “I’m sorry about that,” he said quickly, his tone tight. “My daughter speaks without thinking sometimes. Please, don’t be annoyed.”

The man waved a hand, his smile still in place, though it felt more like a mask now. “Of course not. I’m not annoyed at all.”

I bit my lip, forcing myself to stay quiet. The rest of the visit passed in a blur of polite small talk, but I barely heard a word. My mind was racing, my heart pounding with a mix of anger and dread. This was real. My parents were serious about this arranged marriage, about handing me over to some stranger’s son I’d never even met. And they didn’t even have the decency to show up.

When the man finally left, the air in the house shifted. The fake smiles dropped. My dad’s face darkened as he turned to me, then to my mom. “Talk to your daughter,” he snapped, his voice low and dangerous. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her, but you’d better get her in line. She will not embarrass me like that again. I blame you for spoiling her.”

My mom’s face tightened, but she didn’t back down. “What happened wasn’t fair, Jackson. This was supposed to be the first meeting, and they didn’t even bother to show up! Doesn’t that tell you how they’ll treat our princess?”

My dad let out a loud sigh, his frustration filling the room like a storm cloud. Without another word, he turned and stormed out, the door slamming behind him. The sound echoed in my chest, fueling the fire that had been burning inside me all evening.

I couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Mom, I’m not marrying anyone,” I said, my voice shaking with defiance. “If you and Dad keep pushing me, I’ll run away. I swear I will.”

Her eyes widened, a mix of shock and frustration flashing across her face. But I didn’t wait for her to respond. I turned and bolted upstairs, my footsteps pounding against the wooden steps. I slammed my bedroom door behind me, my chest heaving as I leaned against it. My room, my sanctuary, felt too small to contain the storm inside me. I paced, my mind racing. Run away? Could I really do it? The thought was terrifying, but it was also a spark—a tiny, dangerous spark of freedom.

I sank onto my bed, staring at the ceiling, my thoughts a whirlwind. How had it come to this? Just a few months ago, I was dreaming about college, about a future I could choose for myself. Now, my parents were trying to sell me off like some kind of property. And this “madam” and her son—who were they? Why hadn’t they shown up? The man’s words echoed in my head: My madam will be pleased. Who was this woman, and why did she have so much Power over my life now.