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Julie
"Thought of anything yet?"
My voice came out as a weary murmur, thick with the exhaustion of sleepless nights. I felt a disorienting dizziness, similar to the ones from alcohol but it was from the relentless pressure bearing down on me.
Reggie, cigarette dangling from his fingers, exhaled a slow stream of smoke. "No, I'm still stuck," he admitted, his gaze fixed on the ground. The disillusionment in his voice mirrored my own sense of helplessness.
I usually despise cigarettes, but now, if it meant finding even a moment of relief, I'd welcome it.
It's been five days since the announcement—five days since I last spoke to my father, five days since Luke and I had any contact. Five days of clinging to each other with Reggie, searching for an escape from this crushing reality. And I'm still a mess.
"Reggie, you know I can't do that,right?", breaking into a near sob, the words formed and left my mouth. Or like a scream for help.
I can't marry him.
Especially when I want his brother.
"I know, Julie. You shouldn't have to be with someone you don't want to, can't imagine marrying. I'm so sorry for all of this.", with the cigar still between his fingers, he buried his face on his palms.
"We are both trapped in this situation, Reg. You don't have to feel guilty for anything. We'll find a way out.", placing a comforting hand on his shoulder and sliding it down his arm, I whispered.
The numbness enveloping me was all-consuming, making me feel as though I were drifting through life in a drunken haze. My entire body felt leaden, weighed down by the heavy burden of helplessness and anger. They've stolen my future.
"What if we don't?" he asked, his voice heavy with weariness. The dark circles beneath his eyes were deeper than ever, a stark contrast to his disheveled black hair and the tremor in his lips—clear signs of yet another sleepless night.
His days were consumed by his father's relentless business meetings and his own university classes, while his nights were dedicated to untangling the complexities of our situation. Meanwhile, he was buried under a mountain of paperwork, struggling to keep up as his exhaustion mounted.
I feel so bad for him.
He's such a pure soul, he shouldn't be treated like this. "If we don't-", my eyes deeper into his, gently placing my palms on top of his, "There's no one else, I'd rather be in a arranged marriage with."
He let out a soft chuckle, and I smiled warmly at him. He squeezed my hands tenderly, his eyes filled with quiet resolve.
"We can do it."
Flashback
"Papa, is this a joke?" My eyes scanned their faces, searching for a grin—a loophole—betraying their jest.
