At twenty-five, Michael Jackson has acquired wealth, power, fame, and respect. Having lived in Los Angeles for the last year after leaving his hometown Indiana and all the demons as well as blessings created there, he is gearing up for the grand ope...
We go so hard, we lose control. The fire starts, then we explode. When the smoke clears, we dry our tears, only in love and war. — |JULY 17, 2017| Château de la Messardière, Saint-Tropez 1:30 pm
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Today was the day. Malia Robinson would be marrying her longtime partner. Her soulmate. Her person. Christian Anderson. Nothing could ruin this special day. Nothing was suppose to ruin this day. At least not for her...
Currently she was admiring herself in the full length mirror in the en-suite she's spent the entire morning in preparing for this day she's been planning for the last eight months. Behind her stands her mother Sharon who's attaching her veil to her beautifully done hair which had been styled in a mid bun with two parts of her hair hanging out in the front of her done-to-perfection face framing it. She stands in a beautiful, custom-made shimmery, diamond encrusted corset revealing a bit of her cleavage as the dress flows out from her waist into a big, puffy, traditional wedding gown with sewn-in lace designs, matched with her bedazzled Christian Louboutin pumps. As she's staring at her reflection, she can't help but to think about him.
Here she is about to walk down the aisle in 30 minutes to wed a man who she hasn't been in love with for over half a year. Malia can't exactly pinpoint when she fell out of love with Chris, but she could pinpoint when she fell in love with Michael. He was different, and maybe it was the fact that they're polar opposites which is what made their relationship exciting. With Chris, they're too alike.
She grew up with Chris, she was always around him being that their fathers are business partners and have been since they decided to start their own law firm together over twenty years ago. She loved him of course. He was her first everything and maybe that's why she tried for so long to force the idea of them being meant for each other to be true, but it wasn't until she'd met Michael that she'd realize she couldn't keep up her facade of a relationship that's fizzed out long before she'd even met him.
"Oh! Look at you honey! You look beautiful." her mother's voice knocking her out of her inner thoughts. She smiled faintly admiring the final piece that completed her entire look. "Thank you mama..."
Her mother knew something was wrong and she knew just what was wrong. After the way everything blew up last month between Malia, Michael, and Chris, Sharon knew that was all she could think about...Even on her wedding day. Which was why when she noticed the distant look on her daughter's face, she'd asked her bridesmaids and maid of honor—which consisted of her closest friends and sisters—to give the two a moment to speak.
"Sweetie you're about to walk down the aisle and marry your longtime boyfriend," Sharon started and Malia was already internally rolling her eyes not wanting to hear the next words coming out of her mother's mouth, "you've been with Chris since you were eighteen...Eighteen Mala...You shouldn't let the thoughts of a man you've barely known for a year take over your head like this." Malia knew she was right, but she also knew her mother wouldn't understand all she's built with Michael in a matter of six months. She understood it and so did Michael, so she didn't need anyone else too.
"You're right mama," Malia replied after moments of silence although she knew she disagreed heavily, but wasn't trying to argue with her. "Can I have moment to myself please before it's time?" she asked her politely. While her mother excused herself telling her that she would go look for her father to make sure he was ready to walk her down the aisle, that left Malia with thirty minutes. Thirty minutes to think about what she was doing and if she should do it.
She got up from the sofa she took a seat on and walked over to the large, curtained window that overlooked the venue. It was always what she imagined her wedding to be like. Big, extravagant, luxurious. Her literal dream wedding had came into fruition. Three hundred and fifty chairs beginning to fill up quickly in anticipation, with large white flowers sitting comfortably in large glass vases at the beginning of the aisle that was a long white walkway that would lead her to the alter overlooking the beautiful island of Saint-Tropez surrounded by its calming, yet visually pleasing palm trees. And that was just for the ceremony. It went from an all white to a beautiful Cherry blossom, white, and touches of green tented reception.
It was everything she wanted.
She'd just wished it was with the man she'd wanted it to be with. That's the only, but the biggest drawback to all of this. She wished she could enjoy it because it was everything she envisioned and more, but she couldn't. Just like she couldn't help, but feel like a shitty person, especially to Chris. Besides the stunt he pulled last month—which was in retaliation to the betrayal he'd experienced from his fiancé and someone he's considered a friend that he invited to his wedding—he's only ever been sweet to her and in return she stomps all over his heart, but yet wouldn't change a thing... just the fact that she hurt him.
The sound of a knock on her door diverts her attention from outside the window to the door where she strides over to open it.
On the other side stands the last person she expected to see today holding a bouquet of her favorite flowers. Peonies.
In all his handsome-ness there stood Michael Jackson.
Malia was was feeling a mix of emotions from being confused, shocked, to excited. All those factors had to do with the fact that he'd seriously flown all the way to France for her. And the only thing that Malia could say at that moment was, "Michael...What are you doing here?"
He stepped further into the room, shutting the door behind him and locking it. He stared deep into her brown irises with his own for a moment before replying in that smooth, suave voice that had her pressing her thighs together every time it rang in her ears.
