Chapter 2 Dad eventually put me on an arranged married

I was with Mom in her cluttered living room her bed was turned upside down, and the doorway was flanked by clothes loosely draped and unarranged. Despite the mess, there's something heartening: she's less confined now. She's moved to her dad's living room, where she's found a new space to continue her social media life. It's comforting to see her reclaim a bit of freedom, in her way.

Shortly after, Mom's phone rang. It was the family doctor.

"Hello, Mrs. Patrick Margaret," he said gently. "Your husband, Mr. Patrick, has been taken to the hospital by his helper, Mr. Davy. It was a stroke but only a partial one."

There was a pause.

"We'll need a family member to sign the consent form so we can continue with treatment," he added, before the line went silent.

Without a word, Mom and I rushed to the hospital.

When we arrived, I saw Dad, and my heart sank. He didn't look well.

I understood the gravity of what had happened the moment I saw him.

But Mom... she stood there in quiet confusion, still lost in the dark.

When she first meets Mr Davy, he tells her everything until Mom is unable to speak, and we both look into each other's eyes while sad tears stream down our cheeks.

The surgeon concludes that Dad's operation went well. To complete and prescribe the medication that Mr. Patrick would take daily, he needs $275. Mom is going to complain that the amount was excessive and vent her frustrations to the family physician, Mr Davy, when he abruptly cuts her off and transfers the funds to the hospital account.

Dad is still in a wheelchair, but he is improving now. According to the doctor, he might be able to stand and walk by himself again in two weeks. Although it offered us a shaky feeling of hope, the anxiety still consumes us. We bear a silent pain every day as we see him sit there, weaker than the man we know. We are desperately clinging to the doctor's advice.

Strangely, Mr. Davy never comes to visit his boss, Mr. Patrick. The man who once helped him so much now sits alone, waiting, hoping for familiar faces. It's heartbreaking to see that someone who was there in a moment of crisis has since vanished without a trace

It was just after dawn, the world still wrapped in a pale hush. I noticed Dad hadn't moved from the sitting room all night. He sat there in his wheelchair, a shadow of the man I once knew, his shoulders hunched and his face turned away but I could hear it, the quiet sobs he tried to bury in the silence.

My heart clenched. I walked over slowly, kneeling beside him, and softly asked, "Dad... why haven't you left the sitting room since last night?"

Dad sat down heavily, his voice low and thick with emotion.

"The bank I borrowed from to pour everything into that ship... they'll be coming for all of it soon. Every last thing I own including this house here in Arizona. Less than two months, and it's all gone."

Tears welled in his eyes as he looked around, his gaze lingering on the walls that had seen a lifetime of effort and sacrifice. "Everything I've worked for since I was a boy it's slipping through my fingers."

I sat with Dad while he cried, his sobs heavy and worn. I couldn't help but cry with him.

Mr. Davy walked in, not to comfort us, but to toss his resignation letter on the table like it meant nothing. He coldly revealed the amount Mr. Patrick still owed the workers, who had all abandoned the sinking company to save themselves. There was no sympathy in his voice, only a bitter satisfaction.

We started to live in hardship.

Things have been tough for a while, but things are looking different now. Dad stood up from his wheelchair today. He's stronger now, and for the first time in a long while, it feels like he's ready to help us face this struggle. There's a bit of hope in the air, drifting to the house.

Prior to the bank taking control of all his assets, Dad had started working nonstop.

Mom and Dad sat on the balcony in vintage white chairs, their quiet voices drifting through the open doors. They spoke calmly, with quiet determination, about rebuilding and starting over. I listened half-asleep, their words a soft rhythm that lulled me to rest.

By morning, they were still talking. When I stepped out, they rose with quiet resolve.

"We're going to court," Dad said gently. "Take care of yourself we'll be back by evening."

By dusk, the crunch of gravel signaled their return.

They came in slowly, without a word. Dad's shoulders sagged, his face etched with lines that hadn't been there this morning. He looked like the weight of the whole day was still pressing down on him. Mom said nothing she simply dropped into the sitting chair and let her body sink, eyes closed, drifting like a child floating in a quiet stream, far away from it all.

No one spoke for some minutes. The clock alarm grew louder with each passing second, a quiet tension threading in the air

I took a deep breath and I asked myself, Is everything okay?

Straight on my bed, which is not well arranged, I slept naked. Unfortunately, I find myself wet as if I had sex recently by midnight. What is this? I ask myself.

Not long after, I remember dreaming about having an affair with a man. I was still confused about how that would happen.

Knock! Knock!! Knock!!!

At my door, "Who is there?" I say frighteningly,

Dad replied.

I quickly clean up my bed and get into my pajamas to cover myself up. I unlocked the door, and they both entered

They were silent for some minutes. Why would they come to my room in the middle of the night? I sat on my bed, wondering. What on earth could be so urgent this way?

Dad broke the silence, his eyes filled with tears at the moment. "Susanna," he said, I didn't feel good about this decision, voice trembling, "I had no choice. I arranged your marriage to a billionaire... It's the only way to save us from poverty."

I glanced at Mom's eyes, hoping to find some softness in her eyes. But there was none. Her face was pretty okay as she tapped through her mobile phone, untouched by the shock of what had just been said by Dad. No tears. No reaction. Just... distance.

I was lost in thoughts, I'm left with no words. The silence between us wasn't empty anymore, it carried the heaviness of something breaking.

Instantly, Mom and Dad returned to their various room

I couldn't sleep.

The hours dragged, heavy with unrest. I wasn't just awake, nor was I at peace. My mind swirled with questions, fears, helpless imaginings, and powerless thoughts. By dawn, I slipped out of bed, barely aware of my steps, and stood beneath the shower. The water washed my skin, but it did nothing to wash away the dread. I didn't linger like I usually did. What was the point?

I remembered again, Dad's statement last night.

I stepped into the sitting room in a plain white gown. Dad wasn't there, and the silence felt heavy. I found Mom in the bedroom, calm but distant.

"Dad left early," she said without looking up. "He went to finalize a deal in court."

"A deal?" I asked. "Why would he throw me into an arranged marriage I never wanted?"

Mom sighed. "We had no choice. It's the only way out of this poverty."

Her words hit me like a blow. I dropped to my knees, tears falling. She repeated it, colder this time, like trying to convince herself.

I screamed, furious, no longer a daughter but a judge. Then I stormed out.

The house stayed silent too silent. Not peace, but surrender.

Soon after, Dad returned holding a dress. He was almost cheerful.

"Kylan Everest agreed," he said. "He'll save everything our name, our business. All he wants in return... is you.

Forty billion

That's my worth to him. To them. To this world. Forty billion. If the marriage goes through in the next two days. He promised to give the family forty billion.

But how do you prepare to marry a man you've never even seen? A stranger.

Till now ... I kept telling myself, I have to do it for the family.

I've always believed in love since I was born. I was raised in love. I dreamed of a love that makes the world disappear. But now, love was not part of the plan. Just sacrifice.

That night, I didn't bathe as I usually do before bed

I slipped into the living room and curled up in silence. I wasn't too sad, I was numb. Mom and Dad? They were already looking forward to a change in life. Already counting the billions they are yet to receive

"Your wedding is tomorrow morning," Dad said flatly.

"It'll be in the king's hall. Kylan Everest will send a car to pick us up here. Dress well. Look your best." Then he turned away, disappearing into Mom's room. Like it was just another business meeting.

Morning came, too soon, and I could not believe it.

I forced myself out of bed. Showered. Dressed in white. My hands trembled as I reached for the doorknob.

Outside, they were waiting.

Dad in a sharp black suit, his shoes polished like mirrors. Mom beside him, blue hair cascading over her shoulder, her gown bold and loud.

They looked perfect. But beneath the surface, their eyes were empty. Guilt. Fear. Regret. I saw it all and somehow, I understood.

We arrived at the king's hall not long ago.

Some group welcomed us as if we were a king, The space was breathtaking. Grand chandeliers, velvet drapes, flowers everywhere like something out of a dream. Or maybe a dream someone else was having.

Because I couldn't imagine being here.

I looked around, overwhelmed by the setting.

I had never stood in a place so beautiful, yet felt so small. So alone. I couldn't continue to imagine this happening, My heart whispered a question I couldn't ignore:

Is this the beginning of my life or the end of the life I wanted?