The walls felt like they were pressing in, and my vision blurred at the edges.
“Dad, I… this is very sudden.”
“The best things in life often are, my daughter. Trust us, we know what’s best for you.”
“You need to start preparing to come home,” my mother added. “We’ll need you here by March to finalise everything. The dress fittings alone for the traditional and white wedding will take weeks.”
March. Two months away.
I stared at Marley, who was watching me with growing concern, and felt my entire world crumbling.
“I… yes, Mummy. I understand.”
“We’re so excited, nwam! This will be the wedding of the year. Everyone is talking about it already.”
After a few more minutes of wedding details I couldn’t process, the call ended. I sat there holding the phone, staring at the black screen.
“Baby?” Marley’s voice seemed to come from very far away. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. My mind was spinning with calculations. April. Easter. Three months from now, I’d be walking down an aisle toward a man I barely knew, in a dress I didn’t choose, making vows that I didn’t mean.
And I might never even see Marley again.
“Nothing,” I said automatically, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue. “It’s nothing.”
But Marley knew me too well by now. She studied my face, her brow furrowing with worry. Then she was up, moving to the small speaker system in the corner.
“Come on,” she said, her phone connecting with a soft beep. “You look like you need some cheering up.”
A song I didn’t recognise filled the room, as she held out her hand.
“Dance with me,” she said, and I could tell she was not really asking.
I put my hand in hers as she pulled me into her arms, and we swayed slowly to the music. Her hands rested on my lower back, mine linked behind her neck. She started singing along softly, her voice sounding rough but sweet in my ear.
“You’re so beautiful,” she murmured, pressing her forehead against mine.
“Thank you,” I whispered, and meant it completely.
She leaned in and kissed me, softly and gently, and I kissed her back desperately, trying to memorise the taste of her lips, the way her breath hitched when I nipped at her bottom lip.
When we broke apart, I forced my mouth into a smile. The biggest, brightest fake smile I could manage.
“Better,” I said, and hated how easily the lie came, underneath the genuine gratitude.
We spent the evening playing card games sprawled on the living room floor, arguing about the rules of Uno and whether skipping someone twice in a row was allowed. Marley made hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows, and we watched another episode of our show curled together on the couch. I taught her how to play my favourite mobile game, laughing when she kept accidentally walking her character off cliffs. We ordered takeout and ate it straight from the containers, sharing bites and stealing kisses between mouthfuls.
Normal things. Beautiful things. Things that should have made me happy.
And they did, in a way. But underneath it all, the wedding date ticked like a countdown in my mind.
When we finally went to bed, she fell asleep almost immediately, her arm draped across my waist, her breathing evening out into those soft snores that usually lulled me to sleep. But tonight, sleep wouldn’t come.
I lay awake in the darkness, listening to the gentle rhythm of her breathing, feeling the warmth of her body pressed against my back. Her arm tightened around me in her sleep, and that’s when the tears started.
At first, it was just wetness sliding down my cheeks onto the pillow. Then my shoulders began to shake, and I had to bite my lip to keep from making any sound that might wake her.
How had this happened? How had I gone from that first day at the airport, when she’d bumped into me and been so rude, so cold, making those comments about my luggage that had stung like paper cuts, to this? To lying in her bed, in her arms, feeling like I’d found the missing piece of myself I never knew I’d been searching for?
