She stepped away from my front, allowing me to look at my reflection in the mirror. These women had completely transformed me into someone I could barely recognize.
The hairstylist did a good job revamping my dark auburn hair, turning soft curls into a delicate, intertwined halo.
“So beautiful,” one of the three professionals whispered, her voice soft and tender.
The hairstylist stepped forward and caught my eye in the mirror. “Do you like it?”
I forced a smile and nodded.
They weren’t wrong. Ididlook beautiful. But what use was the beauty if those who loved me weren’t here to see it?
For the first time in forever, I looked like a real woman: manicured nails, flawless lashes, fresh makeup, and revamped hair. On the surface, I was a drop-dead gorgeous diva. But deep down, I was a sad and broken woman, one whose future was about to be traded for her mother’s medical bills.
The front door opened, its quiet creak pulling me out of my thoughts.
“Mr. Beaumont,” the girls greeted him, their heads slightly bowed.
“Leave us,” he said, his voice cold as usual.
I caught his reflection in the mirror and locked my jaw. My blood was boiling with hate and anger, but I couldn’t bring myself to react.
The girls exited the room immediately, leaving just the two of us. He buried a hand in his pocket, his polished shoes scuffing against the fine floor as he marched toward me.
I gripped the edge of the table before me, my expression dark with anger and disdain.
“That look on your face reminds me of her,” he said. “Your mother.”
My grip tightened on the table’s edge.
He halted behind me, his eyes catching mine in the mirror. “She used to glare at me like that whenever I did something that didn’t sit well with her.” A soft scoff escaped his lips, and his next words were spoken barely above a whisper. “Nothing I did ever sat well with her.”
Silence. I refused to say a word. If I did, I’d either lash out or burst into tears.
“Look, I know you don’t like this,” he continued, “but can you at least pretend to be happy?”
Again, silence.
“Today’s your big day. The last thing people should see on your face is a frown.”
Of course he was more concerned about what people would say than what his granddaughter actually felt.
He glanced at his Rolex. “It’s almost time.”
Still nothing on my end.
He paused, watching my reflection in the mirror before giving a subtle nod. “Okay. Good talk.” After tapping my shoulder, he turned around and walked away. “You look beautiful, by the way.”
The second the door closed behind him, I let out a heavy sigh, as though I’d been holding my breath this whole time. I tilted my head upward, attempting to push back tears that welled in my eyes.
The last thing I wanted was to mess up my makeup. Those ladies had put in a lot of effort into transforming me into this gorgeous bride.
“You got this, Emika. You got this,” I whispered to myself.
***
The wedding took place in a small church where smiles were forced, and hearts stayed silent. Except for mine, because it wouldn’t stop hammering in my chest.
My grandfather’s elbow was locked with mine as he walked me down the aisle. The classic “Wedding Match” was playing in the background, the soft piano keys filling the room.
