“Please stop this,” I beg, changing tack to no avail. “I’ll do anything you want if you just take this back right now.”
Micah stares into my eyes, his acting prowess so good that I can almost believe it’s real. “Crimson Petrovic. Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”
No.
Just say it.
No, I won’t marry you. No, I don’t know you. No, so sorry but someone else applied for the job and it’s already taken.
Dad clears his throat, staring at me expectantly. All trace of the doting father is gone; he stares at me through eyes as cold as an Antarctic winter.
I’m his little girl. Didn’t he just call me that?
In another family, that would mean something. Would mean that along with any heavy expectations, there was also love and affection. Even a hug as he doled out this life sentence to me would help.
Micah stands and I turn to him. His dark eyes scan across my face, waiting for me to say the thing he wants me to say. That he believes I will say. I can feel the expectation pulsing out at me. Feel the weight of it from all corners of the room, bearing down like pressure inside my skull.
My head turns to the side and his lips purse. I try to twist it in the opposite direction, complete the shake, but my neck locks.
He bends down… down… down… having to move so low because I’m tiny and he’s so tall. He whispers in my ear, “Say yes. It’s just for show.”
What does he mean? That this entire pageant is just for show, or my answer is, so what I say doesn’t matter.
This must be a nightmare. My whole body is now locked in place. I can’t move even though I desperately want to run away.
It has to be a nightmare.
This can’t bemy life.
Micah exhales, his soft breath teasing the hairs along the side of my face. He’s still holding my hand and now he rubs his thumb across my ring finger.
If I say no, this won’t go away. My father will be angry. I’m downgraded already and saying no—embarrassing him—might be enough for him to disown me altogether. I have no protection. No skills to call upon. I’m eighteen and meant to be an adult but my options have never seemed so limited.
Say no now and there’ll be an instant confrontation.
Say yes and I can fight my corner later. When there’s no crowd to increase the humiliation quotient. No audience to see he raised an ungrateful daughter.
Dad’s already announced. No matter what I say, I can’t walk this back by myself.
Everybody’s waiting.
“Yes.”
The word is so small I hope no one hears it, but the loud whoops and clapping that cross the room point to a different result.
“Good girl.” Micah’s arms wrap around me, lifting me off my feet.
Hardly a struggle for him; the man is a giant, at least a foot taller and with shoulders broad enough to fit me twice across. A large palm rubs in a circle across my back, the only thing steadying me. I draw whatever slim comfort I can as I close my eyes and hope really hard that if I keep them that way the universe will play along and erase this travesty from its history.
My father claps his hands and commands the room, “Now everyone, eat!”
We all sit as another chorus of cheers rings out. I stare blankly at the plate of food a server places in front of me. I remember sitting with Marigold a fortnight ago, perusing the menus available in the search for the perfect meal.
That had been so much fun.
Now my jaw is locked so tight it’s hard to breathe, let alone open wide enough to eat. My eyes blur so I can’t even identify the ingredients on the plate.
A tear slides out of the corner of my eye, and I catch it with my fingertip, pressing hard against my skin to forestall any others that are thinking of escape. It’s only then I see the ring. Micah slid it onto my finger, and I didn’t even notice.
