MIKAYLA
. . .
Pushing away my hair, I walk towards my car. The underground area is not as cool as the wideway outside. My feet walk in urgency because I wish to leave as soon as possible.
Especially after the nonsense that's been done in the meeting.
What's even special here? I came to him, thinking that he might understand my concern and agree to deny his parents. If he can't understand me then at least see that we can't fit together but I wonder what's wrong with this guy.
Is he right in his head?
I push my hand into my bag in search of the key when he stops me from behind, calling out my name, "Mikayla."
I turn around, giving him a cold look.
Sharp and cold eyes set on me, he comes to me, his walk dominant and graceful. I have noticed it before because he always induced such sharpness in his features and charms of his movements that nobody could deny, let alone ignore.
"Aunt Damaris called me," Mama has grown this obsession of contacting him every time.
How lovely. She is already behaving like he has become her son-in-law and this man is also behaving like her pyare damad ji.
His eyes, for a fleeting moment, linger over my car and then fixing them on my face, he says, "Asked me to take you somewhere after our conversation."
"She could've called me," I don't hide my anger as it flares up in a moment. We are not even married yet and my Mama is beginning to call him for such minor wishes. Am I not her daughter anymore?
"She said you're not answering her calls."
I quickly check my phone and realize it's on silent mode.
Okay, I am still her daughter.
"So what have you planned?" I put my phone back into my purse. I look up at him, pushing my hair back as it curtain the side of my face because of the cold and rough breeze passing.
His eyes drink in the movement and I roll my eyes.
He doesn't have to notice everything though I know I attract that attention.
"Let's go to church."
Already?
｡ﾉ♡
I left my car there under watch while now I am standing in front of the church. It's not Sunday so I know there would be no crowd inside the building. I behold the house of the Lord, ready to walk inside without Blondie.
But he comes beside me and holds my hand.
I gave him a stink eye though deep down, I felt a sense of relief at the touch of his warm hand.
"Is it a crime?" He looks back, "To hold your hand?"
I roll my eyes. "No." Why is he being so jolly?
He smiles at me, a dip in his cheek appearing. I avert my gaze from his tempting features. He always had dimples — another reason for my jealousy. But now that I have grown up, I am not jealous.
We walk inside the peaceful place. It's been years since I have visited church but still, my heart finds peace being inside the house of God like it used to happen when I was a kid.
The building is almost empty except for the priest who stands in service of the Lord and a few people who stand in front of the altar, praying.
Seeing other women and remembering how my Mama and other virgins used to stand inside the church, I cover my head, though I am not even a virgin.
A sinner perhaps?
My subconscious taunts me but I pay no heed to it.
We stand still in front of the cross but Barak kneels, bowing his head. I stare at him for a whole minute before I too feel like giving up on my knees. I kneel beside him and fold my hands, almost following him in everything though I know what I have to do.
I cannot lie but he knows where he is while lost people like me — who don't know God at all — know nothing where we are standing even after knowing the location. I ask through the depth of my being and speak through the innermost chambers of my heart.
He starts whispering under his breath and I realize I have to pray, too.
I do it, closing my eyes but nothing comes to my mind. I do not know what I have to say to Him. I don't have any reason to thank Him because things are going pretty bad in my life and I feel too ashamed to say sorry to him.
I wonder if I would ever be able to change this attitude of mine.
In the end, I stand up, unfolding my hands because I feel like I am getting exposed just by spending some time humbling my body to the Lord. Like I would end up spilling out everything that I have buried in my heart. I am not a saint and the darkness and the sinfulness inside me is too ugly to look at.
God would hate me.
My eyes land over the priest and I realize he has been looking at us.
He smiles at me. "God bless you, my child," he says and then looks at Barak who is now standing beside me. "God bless you two. Betrothed?" He asks us.
"About to." At least he didn't lie before a priest.
His eyes soften and his heart melts into pleasantness that breaks into a lovely smile. And the next thing he says, leaves me amazed.
"May the Lord keep you and bless you. May the Lord be the center of your relationship. Be one as He blesses you and love each other immensely as He says, so that you glorify Him in all that you do. May you prosper like Jacob and Leah, and support each other like Mary and Joseph. May the Lord pay heed to your wife's words as He did to Hannah's as you cherish her like Elkanah, and may the Lord of all creation be with you as He was with all those who loved Him so that you live a life that pleases Him and He will bless you in everything that you do, prospering you and your household."
He puts his hands on our heads and as we leave, I'm filled with bitterness. My jaw is clenched as my mind keeps repeating the words said by the priest.
Why did I even come here with him?
"You could've selected some other place. Now see, we're blessed. He said those words," I complain, fastening the seat belt while there through my nerves, flows raw regret as well as spleen.
And call me anything but I know he has released those blessings into our lives. Don't I know the power of words? And when the man of God speaks those words, it comes true, no matter what, because the Lord, being the most compassionate and lovely God, will pay heed to the priest's words and things will go as he has prophesied.
And with the names he has blessed us, I doubt if I ever would be able to oppose them.
Prosperity like Jacob and Leah, through whom the Lord made a nation. No woman could take Leah's place as God made her one and only for Jacob.
Togetherness like Joseph and Mary, who parented the Lord Jesus. Joseph respected Mary and loved her immensely. Mary also honored him and no king could put a hand on them because the Lord was with them.
And who could ignore the blessed woman Hannah who gave birth to prophet Samuel — the boy who won God's heart and replaced the priest's sons in the service of the Lord Most High? Her husband, Elkanah, loved her very much and was blessed by God.
When he has taken the names of the couple, blessing us immensely, I can't help but be filled with fury. So desperately I wish to go back into the past and change everything.
My father used to tell me the stories. He used to read me the Bible and I remember what was written in it about the words we speak.
The power of words.
Jesus commanded us to bless our enemies and pray for those who persecute us because He knew the words we speak aren't mere words but spirit and life.
The same positive spirits and life of blessings the priest has sent in our lives.
Am I going to escape them?
He also makes himself comfortable, raising his arm to run a hand through his blond locks. His cologne gets fused into the air as the movement of his arm awakes.
"Isn't it good?" He leans back, cocking a brow.
"No, it's not, because we're not marrying."
"Hm, keep deluding yourself." He proceeds to start the engine when I grip his collar and jerk him ahead so that we are facing each other.
What does he think of himself?
"Listen, you Blondie of Indian parents, I'm not marrying you, okay? The priest might've blessed us but I'm not walking according to it. You sit and watch while I'll be making a solid plan to break this—"
"And what would you do?" He narrows his bright blue eyes at me, hovering over me but I am not afraid of him.
"I'll elope—"
"With Ibzan, ha?"
"Yes, because I love him."
At my response, his hand comes to hold the back of my neck, avoiding the chiming of my earring. I scowl at the touch, ready to swat it away when he holds my neck rather firmly, jerking me even closer than before so that our breaths mingle and our noses almost touch.
"And you also listen to me, little brat," I gape at his audacity, "Make hundreds of plans to elope with your so-called boyfriend but I'm not letting you go."
I clench my jaw and punch his shoulder. The sound of my bangles jingling flows inside the car and he grips my wrist, too, avoiding my bangles as they slip down.
"I have my eyes on you. You can't run away."
"Oh, you just wait and watch, Blondie," I say while trying to release my wrist from his firm hold.
"With pleasure, Bratty." He smirks, ignoring my attempts to get away from him. "But that's not going to happen. You'll marry me—"
"I won't."
"You'll become my wife."
"In your dreams."
He falls silent, staring down at my face which is burning red because of this killing proximity. His hands on me make me even hate him more. How dare he touch me!
I loathe it and I'm not going to sit in a car with him alone. Ever again because I have seen the consequences of it. The nerve of this man that he is touching me!
Ignoring the look his dark eyes are giving me, I lean down and bite his hand that is holding my wrist. He was unaware and let go of me with a growl.
I touch my wrist delicately, looking for any bruise but thankfully there is none. I hate marks on my skin.
"What are you? A monkey?" He utters, caressing his hand.
I frown. "Bandar hoge tum!" I retort, "I didn't bite as hard as you are acting." I glare down at his hand and my eyes widen as I find the marks of my teeth digging into his skin.
Looks horrible. Did I really bite so hard?
"Tumse to kuch bolna hi bekar hai," he rolls his eyes, proceeding to start the engine.
"Mujhe bhi koi shauk nahi hai tumhare muh lagne ka," I grumble, making myself comfortable, and arranging my dupatta. All the while, the annoying sound of my bangles resonated inside the car, reminding me how my Mama put this all in front of me and said that it was for Blondie.
To isey hi kyo nahi pehna diya ye sab?!
"Oh yeah," he starts driving, "But you'll surely put your mouth on mine." What did he just say? "On our wedding day," he adds, shamelessly smirking at me.
I look at his face and in the air, an image comes before my opened eyes of us kissing. Eww. Why did I even think of it? This can't happen; we're enemies and enemies don't kiss.
"Keep your nonsense in your mouth—"
"I'll be the first one to proceed. After all, I'm the groom."
"Can you keep your mouth shut?"
"No, I can't."
"Look, Blondie—"
"Show me, Bratty."
Urgh!
"If you don't want me to pounce on you and we have an accident and one or both of us die, you better keep your mouth shut." In the end, I take a deep breath as I finish threatening him. But what can I do to my face which is burning like hell?
All because of him!
He cocks a brow at me, turning the steering wheel smoothly. He says nothing and shrugs. Finally, silence enshrouds the car — finally, he shuts his mouth — and I sit peacefully, leaning back. None of us said anything after that and I am grateful for it.
Home arrives and I quickly get out of the suffocating car. I grab my bag from the backseat and turn around to leave when he calls out my name.
Now what?
"Aren't we going inside together?"
"Did I invite you?"
He rolls his eyes. "It doesn't fit well if I leave without saying hello to Aunt Damaris. Maybe Uncle Aaron is also home." How does he know? Is he already keeping everything in check? "So, let's go inside together."
"We aren't married yet."
"We soon will be."
"Not gonna happen."
"Can we cut it now? We can fight after we're together. It'll be more fun." He winks at me. And before I can register what he just said, he holds my hand and leads me inside.
Well, he drags me inside. His steps are long because he is tall.
"Gosh, leave my hand," I snatch my wrist to pull back but before that happens, we are caught by my nephew who is bouncing around.
"Uncle Barak!" He chirps, running towards him and hugging his legs. "Oh, I missed you so much!" He says in a singsong manner and I roll my eyes.
He is everybody's favorite.
"I missed you, too, little champ."
Of course, blah, blah, blah.
I decide to leave but he doesn't let me. What's his problem? He is only wishing to earn himself a punch. Was the bite not enough so that he is seeking something else, too?
We walk inside and my nephew is following us, being his uncle's pup. As soon as we are in the living room, everybody comes to welcome their hone wale damad ji.
My mother, grandmother, sisters-in-law, their kids, my brother, and even the servants come to behold Mr Blondie Dawood like I-don't-know-what-he-is.
Who else is left? Please, come. Mere hone wale pati aaye hai.
Soon, I am pushed aside and they all take him inside to serve him. How quickly I am abandoned. Everyone is going very well, right? I expected nothing less from them.
As I said, he has won hearts here.
I decide to go inside my room when I hear my Granny saying something to Blondie which halts me right where I am — at the bottom of the stairs.
"Barak, who bit your hand this bad?"
Me.
I turn around and peek at him. He is sitting in the middle of everyone and they have surrounded him. He is sitting beside my Granny and tea has arrived on time.
Wow.
I never got that.
"Oh, this," he looks down at his hand and I brace myself for upcoming chides as he continues, "It's not a bite mark, Granny, it just looks that way. I don't know how this happened. But it's okay."
"It's not okay, my child. It looks deep and it needs to be taken care of," says Mama, looking for someone, unless her eyes land on me and she says, "Mickey, get me the aid kit, baby."
I do as they say, escaping Blondie's eyes as quickly as possible. I come back with the kit and put it down, only to receive another order to tend the wound, too.
I don't object because it is not anything but me who gave him that wound. I sit beside him to take care of his hand and another order comes from above by my Dad who also joins us soon.
He comes and gives me a hug. Blondie stands up to greet him respectfully.
"I hope the meeting was fine," Dad begins, while I sit beside him.
Granny notices it but says nothing. Because I changed my place. But she knows that it is my habit to stay close to my Dad. She cannot object here because even Dad won't push me away.
"More than fine." Blondie smiles, giving me a soft look. I return it with a fake sugary smile, glaring at him. "Mickey hasn't changed. Not even a bit."
Surely it's not a compliment.
Dad chuckles. "I see. But isn't it good? You two are good friends, after all, soon going to get married and become more than friends." Even the idea of it sounds horrible to me.
"Indeed. I hope we become more compatible."
"You surely will, my child. God is with you because you're a responsible man like your father. I'm sure you two are going to be perfect for each other."
Dad should not expect so much from Barak because as I said, we can't fit together. I wish Dad would have shown this faith in Ibzan.
"As the Lord wills."
And they all say, "Amen."
After that, Dad invites him personally to his study for a private conversation. It grabs my zero interest.
After playing a good-man role in front of my family successfully, he follows my Dad to his study while I head back to my room, thinking about how can I make my Dad understand that we are not going to work out together.
There's no chance.
. . .
I'd have updated already but then, my nephew came, my lovely baby and I couldn't make time :') — no, I didn't forget you and my baby Barak and Mickey, lol.
I saw like some love Mickey while some hate her but I already warned you, right? You have to bear her with Barak.
Anyway, I hope you liked the update.
Thank you for reading.
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Stay happy, stay beautiful.
Jesus loves you <3