Chapter 5 MARRIED

Luis lingered for a moment, staring at me as if trying to decipher who I had become as an adult. I met his gaze without fear. I didn't know where the courage to face him sprang from; it was as if the resentment I had harboured towards him since childhood empowered me. He remained still for a moment before walking towards the door. However, before exiting, he paused and said, "Alright, I think everything is clear between us. We will manage this marriage as best we can. After all, our end goal is the same."

And with that, my journey into this commitment began. We go out often; he escorts me to the library while he spends time with his girls. Somehow, our parents and society are convinced of our relationship. When we are together, I feign affection for him, though I never allow him to touch me. We host numerous parties on our yacht. On the day of our engagement, Mum confiscated all my cards and handed them over to Luis. His father had apparently cut off his finances until he actually marries me, he confided in me. Not that it mattered to me; I had never made use of them. The money my grandfather deposits in my account suffices for my needs.

During the yacht parties, I seclude myself in my room while Luis revels in the festivities. As long as he continues to respect me as he has done thus far, we will encounter no issues. He inhabits his world, and I mine. Our mothers have taken it upon themselves to organise the entire wedding. Since my grandparents are the only guests I would invite, it matters little to me who else is on the guest list.

They orchestrate the event as though it were a fairy tale, making decisions without seeking my opinion. They don't even bother to consult me or involve me in the planning process. I allow them free rein because my interest is merely feigned. My grandparents voice their objections, disapproving of the marriage, particularly aware of Luis's potential for cruelty. Nevertheless, I have endeavoured to assure them that he has reformed and that he treats me well. I put on my most convincing act, striving to persuade them that I am entering into this marriage of my own volition, that our love is genuine. They feign acceptance of my explanation and cease their questioning. And so the days slip by until the wedding day dawns.

Today is that day; I am clad in a magnificent wedding gown that I find utterly disagreeable, owing to its plunging neckline and fitted skirt. It was chosen by my mother to suit her tastes. A seemingly interminable veil was selected by my mother-in-law, who also insisted on a tiara and a bouquet brimming with natural flowers, daisies included, despite my allergies. She disregarded my protests and added them because they are her favourites. As a result, my nose is red and irritated from ceaseless sneezing.

To remedy the situation, my grandmother, with Luis's assistance, decided to remove all the daisies, much to the displeasure of my mother-in-law and my mother. I felt a wave of relief when my grandmother presented me with a new bouquet composed of orchids, which do not trigger my allergies and are, in my opinion, far more exquisite. My grandmother is the sole person who harbours any excitement about this wedding. She embraced me and planted a kiss on my cheek, her eyes brimming with tears. My grandfather, on the other hand, wishes I were not getting married; he has attended solely for my sake. He reminds me of this during every conversation we have.

Just a few minutes ago, he came up to me, he whispered in my ear, his voice insistent. "Bella, we still have time. You can run away with me!" I clasped him tightly, planting two kisses on his cheeks.

"Okay, Grandfather," I replied softly, "in three years I'll be free, and I'll come live with you."

"What do you mean by that?" he inquired, a frown creasing his brow. "Aren't you in love with Luis? Isn't that why you're getting married?"

"Hush... I'll explain," I murmured, "but please don't say or do anything. I'm doing this solely to aid Dad."

"What? What do you need to help him with?" he pressed, concern etching his features. "If it's for a family alliance and not because you truly love him, I can't condone your marriage. You don't need to make this sacrifice, my dear; I can free you!"

"No, Grandpa," I insisted resolutely. "It's more than that. I want to do something for Dad so that they can't blame me later. Do you understand? Please, Grandpa, don't interfere."

"It's unnecessary, Bella," he countered firmly. "Let him handle his own affairs!"

"Grandpa, please," I pleaded, "I need your support in this; please, Grandpa..."

"Alright," he conceded with a heavy sigh, "but remember, if that good-for-nothing Luis gives you the slightest trouble, you must tell me. Promise me that, and I won't say another word."

"I promise you, Grandpa," I affirmed earnestly. "I promise."

And so I walk, wearing a counterfeit smile, hand in hand with my father. Before entering, he halts and regards me with profound seriousness. Then he inquires, "Are you truly doing this, Isabella, because you love Luis?" My mother had already cautioned me that should he pose the question, I must affirm.

"Yes, yes, Dad, that's why," I assert.

"Are you certain, my daughter?"

"Yes, Dad. Everything will be fine; don't fret. Now, let's proceed."

He scrutinises me for a lingering moment, then enfolds me in a tight embrace before we separate to stand at the entrance. Will I manage to refuse? "No," I remind myself, "Mother told me that Father is in dire straits, and if I don't marry Luis, he will face bankruptcy." "Pull yourself together, Isabella; it's only three years."

With a deep inhalation, we commence our procession towards the altar where Luis awaits with a feigned display of emotion. Everyone is convinced by his act. The events unfold rapidly: the ceremony, the reception, the leave-taking, the flight to Paris.

Upon our arrival, my husband escorts me to the hotel and ushers me into our room, seemingly reluctant to let me out of his sight. Then he vanishes. Not that his absence concerns me, but being alone in this vast city instils a modicum of trepidation. For the initial two days, I confine myself to the hotel; on the third day, I muster the courage to venture out to a nearby plaza, a mere two blocks away. Fortuitously, I stumble upon a library and, it goes without saying, the remainder of my honeymoon is spent ensconced at a table within its quietude.

On the last day, Luis reappeared. He accompanied me to the shops to purchase gifts for the family, his annoyance palpable. Ultimately, he left me with the chauffeur and vanished once more until the day before our departure.

Arriving late and hurriedly organising the hand luggage with a series of frustrated slams that drew the attention of those around us, he seated himself beside me, his fury unmistakable.

"Is something amiss, Luis?" I enquired.

"Bella, could you do me a favour?" he requested.

"Of course, just tell me what you need," I responded, prepared to assist.

"Would you mind switching to economy class? I'd like to sit with my girlfriend here," he replied.

I stared at him, dumbfounded. The audacity of his request was astonishing! Yet, recognising his earnestness, I collected my belongings, stood up, and asked, "Which seat number?"

"Seventy-five, by the window," he informed me.

I made my way down the narrow aisle towards the economy class section. Truthfully, the prospect didn't perturb me in the slightest. I felt more at ease in this part of the plane and was relieved at the thought of avoiding ten insufferable hours in his company. As I settled into my seat, I noticed a striking blonde woman eyeing me with a mocking smile that carried a hint of triumph. I dismissed her; she was presumably the 'girlfriend' he had mentioned.

Taking my seat, I readied myself to continue with the book I had started the day before; it was quite captivating. A young man, a few years my senior, took the seat next to mine and greeted me with a friendly smile. My response was a slight nod of the head, an unspoken signal of my disinterest in conversation. Thankfully, he seemed to grasp my desire for solitude and refrained from engaging me further for the remainder of the flight.

The ten hours passed in a blend of reading and intermittent sleep. Luis was absent throughout the journey. Nonetheless, he sent a text instructing me to fabricate an excuse for his absence to our parents, should they be awaiting our arrival at our new home. Upon landing and retrieving the luggage he had neglected, I was relieved to find they were not present. With resolve, I stepped outside, intent on hailing a taxi to take me to the new house-a generous gift from my grandparents.

Since Luis had taken our car, I found myself waiting in a lengthy queue for a taxi. But just as my turn arrived, the taxis vanished one by one. Exhausted, I contemplated calling my grandfather to fetch me, but then I reconsidered and decided to wait patiently. As I stood there, a black Audi pulled up before me and the window descended.

"Hello," the driver called out to me. Assuming he required directions, I approached the vehicle.

"Yes? How may I assist you?" I enquired politely, barely glancing at him.

"I'm headed towards Central Park. It's on your way; I can offer you a lift if you'd like," he proposed.

"Thank you, but there's no need; I'll wait for a taxi," I declined, taking a step away from the car. After all, his true destination was anybody's guess.

"Hey, Bella, we were seatmates for ten hours, and I never introduced myself!" he exclaimed. "I'm acquainted with your grandparents. My parents are friends with them," he added in a tone that suggested familiarity, catching me off guard.