𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐲 [𝘛𝘰𝘫𝘪 𝘍𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘰]

↳ 𝙏𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝘿𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝 𝘿𝙤 𝙐𝙨 𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙩

A woman's wedding day is supposed to be the happiest day of her life. But as they do your hair and makeup, and get the dress ready for you to wear, any other emotion but happiness, is present in your body.

The makeup artist is sweet, she keeps assuring you that everything will be okay, that having cold feet is normal. It happened to her as well, she says. You give her a weak smile and nod. She thinks you're in love. You're supposed to be.

"You're looking so pretty, prettier than any other bride. Your partner will absolutely fall in love with you all over again when you walk down that aisle. Everything will turn out okay." She says. And you try to find comfort in her words. But you know you can't.

You don't want his love, but you want reassurance that you can live cordially in the same house. But after the poisoned drink from yesterday, you have zero hope. You knew something was up the moment he went from extremely cold to friendly.

"You have such a pretty dress too. Definitely one of a princess." The hairdresser joins in. You don't say anything. Your expression doesn't change. It's a lost cause, they think.

"I'll be alright." You finally speak. "The wedding is going to happen whether I like it or not."

That isn't the answer they want to hear. First and foremost they want your happiness. But they don't dare to comment on it, because your stepmother is in the room and she keeps glaring.

"You're such a drama queen, God!" Your stepmother claims, rolling her eyes. She's ready. It's way too early, the ceremony begins in three hours. But she wants to make sure everything is perfect, which means getting everything ready early. "Wedding photos start in an hour so hurry up ladies."

"Are you going to be in the photos?" You ask, wondering if that's the reason she's ready so early.

"Of course, dear. Why do you ask?" She responds.

"I don't want you to be in my wedding photos." You tell her. And you look at the distraught expression that forms on her face. It makes you smirk. "It's my wedding, no? The bride should get what she wants."

"You stinking brat." She replies. "I'll tell your father about this."

"Go ahead." You nonchalantly answer. "What is he going to do? Kick me out?"

She huffs as she gets up and walks out of the room. You feel more relaxed as you're left alone with the hairdresser and the makeup artist. "Is she your mother?" The makeup artist asks.

"Stepmother. A total witch." You share, and the hairdresser and makeup artist exchange a look before going back to their work.

-

You stand on the balcony of your room, looking out at the garden, enjoying the light breeze until someone tells you that the photographer is at the house. They're setting up the garden for the ceremony.

You feel weird. You assume it's the right way to feel considering this matrimony isn't something you want. You didn't have a say in anything. Not the invitations, the color scheme, the cake, hell even your own dress.

The dress is beautiful. It's a light ivory princess gown, with long see-through lace sleeves and a long train as well. You know you'll have to keep holding it up so it doesn't get dirty throughout the day. You weren't given a veil, instead a hair accessory since you couldn't wear a veil, wearing white was already seen as disrespectful enough. Diamonds adorn your ears, as well as your neck.

You sigh as you continue looking out. This is your future, and it's so near. You're grazing it, but you don't want to. You want to let go and run away, but where?