Ophelia ( A story about a love process ) ( COMPLETE ) ( EDITING )

Chapter 1 - Guests

It is a common knowledge that marriage are between two people who are in love with each other. A conception that, perhaps, just popular in this age of modern time. It used to be different before, it sometime was just about the alliance between two families, with a business purpose or just an excuse of one family to give up the responsibilities of taking care of their daughters ( most of them girls ) by handing them to a richer family, total stranger, so the parents don't have to worry anything about them anymore.

Some were turned out fine, some were successful while some were ended in the state where women were the victim.

I wish I could ended up marrying someone I love too someday but...

Never in my entire life, in this age of modern time, that I will also be the victim of an arranged marriage. But instead of a big slob with huge moustache somebody, my soon to be spouse was a woman. She was a fine creature I guessed, older than me by 9 years, about my older sister's age (She was my sister's friend too), a type of person who people always stare at when they walk passed her.

I don't know when or how she started to have interested in me but my first time when i met her, was when I was 13 years old. My sister was inviting her friends to our house for a summer break vacation. Since our house were located up in a beautiful hill with view that could be considered as heaven on earth. We also have farm in the back of our yard, where we have sheep, cows, chickens, cats and dogs that we have learned to love so much from the youngest age.

A little bit further from the yard, we have our own little lake and if you go further again into the woods we have a cabin that one of my mother built for camping or just for thinking she said, although I know by mean thinking , she just wanting to escape from my other's mother rants in the household.

Their relationship was fine though, sometime I caught them in the living room, talking to each other just enjoying their time together, saying love to one another. Sometime I chuckled hearing it and the other time I want to gag by how cringe it sounded to me but, growing up I wished I will have a relationship like that too in the future.

I was reading Vladimir Nabokov's in our house library when I heard the door's bell rang. At first I decided to ignore it, maybe my sister could open it for me and then continue my reading but when I heard it rang again , I stood up from my seat putting the book and headed outside the room.

"Portia!" I called my sister's name from the end of the stairways towards her room. "Portia!" I called again but there's no respond. She must be asleep or taking shower. It's been so long she didn't come home though, since she has started university and live on her own.

I did miss her a couple of times but when thing like this happened, I just want to kick her out again from this house with my own feet.

I sighed then decided to walk to the front door by my own. Sometime I wished we have butler or maid, available all the time in this big house, but they only came once in a week just for the cleaning. Also, I deeply dislike when we're having guests, the idea of strangers intruding my property, my private time, and I have to act formally in the place where I should be my self is somehow overwhelmingly annoying.

I turned the knob and soon met with three pair of eyes on our porch, all of them are girls about my sister age . One of them smiling to me, another one smiling but with a look of curiosity in her eyes, and the other one in the back, the taller one, just looked at me quietly without any expression, I caught a flicker from her green eyes for a second, make me felt conscious with the vintage white summer dress I wore, contrasting with the fashionable up to date clothing they wearing.

"May I help you?". I asked tightening the grip on the knob without opening the door widely.

"You must be Portia's sister?". The girl on the front said with a high-pitched voice that startled me a little bit.