Book #3 in the Fairytale series
A minister.
A princess.
A curious case of their pasts - that intermingle.
A ruthless tale.
A killing romance.
& the two have none to blame.
A story of painful rapture.
Dreams to chase,
& promises to keep.
Mat...
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Filza's belief in 'do and good shall come', was reaffirmed with complete solidarity as she walked with her shoulders pushed back and her fiancé's arm around her frame. Fiancé. Her fiancé. The words would take some getting used to, from the blush on her bare shoulders — the lovely cherry shade it was obvious that the heart she wore on her sleeve now had found it's cuff forever. With a wide grin that could, light up the world for days she followed behind to the grounds of celebration where everyone seemed to be rejoicing already. From the smirk on her parents face, and the look of awe on her aunt's, Filza knew it was a scheme part of greater affairs and she was the only one the truth had been — withheld from.
Pushing his jacket off of her shoulders, she returned it to him, with a polite smile on her face. The scandalized faces of figures not so familiar were a comical sight to her. Cue the taunts — she thought, her father was in for a lecture once more, of the dangers of giving his daughter free reign. Her skirts were painting the city red. With her lovers and sordid escapades — wouldn't be the first, nor the last time her strict character was questioned. The women of high society with their faces stuffed with a sweet crème brûlée had of course, nothing better to do, than to reprimand the daughter of a previously loose woman. Ignoring the questioning gazes, the pointed fingers and everything in between, Filza walked with confidence towards her parents.
The voluminous skirts brushed against the beige carpets, everything else in the open air, a deep green. Her hands wrapped around her mother's shoulders, from the mirth inside her eyes, and the giant pear shaped ring on her left ring finger, everyone could make out that things had turned out — positively well. Filza's lips smacked against the cheekbones of her mother, before kissing her father's cheeks. For the first time in a fortnight, her painful heartache had died down, returning the color to her pale cheeks almost instantly.
"You knew! Mor, palar, the two of you knew!" She murmured in delight, her hands whizzing in the air, body too full of energy.
"Of course we did. In fact, your father was very much involved in the entire plan, Fizzy pop."
Laila's heart stilled, skipping a beat as she realized her daughter was engaged. At the age of nineteen, when she herself was busy in imagining all the wonders of life, the greatness it could offer. Wondering of the life of the wealthy, of the opulence that reeked from their food. When she herself was still in the midst of a wild naivety, her child, had found herself a man to marry. An exceptional one at that.
"Oh! Thank you so much, the two of you. I don't know how to explain what my heart feels."
"We're your parents darling, we know how you feel. And we are so very proud of you."
