The weeks went by with so many people coming to Sarah's aid. There were people touching her hair, insisting on what kind of dress she buys. They were swarming her, and Sarah had the feeling that her mother hadn't paid a cent for these people to aid her in the many ways they were not.
They measured her body, hands creeping up her slim arms in a way that created a nasty fire that burned within her rib cage. When she was being pushed into dresses, Sarah'd often glanced back at her mother, who'd whip out cash she's never seen. It then came to her attention that her account was suddenly draining. All the money she had saved was beginning to feed into the wedding she never wanted.
Weeks came and went with people asking Sarah for her preferences on how her wedding should be. No matter how hard she tried to stray from traditional practices, they'd harshly correct her, insisting that she pick a certain choice of venue or a design for a cake. People were being added to the list, most of them she didn't even know the names of.
Each day was a gratuitous amount of work that she knew she could've avoided. Every night she'd run through a different world in her head, one where she was on her way out to college, to achieve what she's always wanted to. Sarah thought about the ways she could've prevented the happiest day of her life.
As the day came closer, Sarah found herself being pushed to Oliver. They'd go on walks together, speaking about their wedding. She soon found common ground with him, noticing how he seemed awkward, but willing, to go through with the marriage. Sarah recognized how her mother saw him as a young and caring gentleman.
He'd often offer to do things for her, flattering her. When she'd tell him his attempts were appreciated but not required, he'd always respond the same. "I just want to make you comfortable." The time they spent together felt better than the nights Sarah would lay alone in her bed, contemplating running away to achieve her dreams. Spending time with her soon-to-be husband was less lonely than the long nights under moonlight.
Oliver started to become comfortable with her, as she was beginning to see a bright future within him. Though, it was still awkward, they began to spend more time together, getting closer. Sarah began to think about the possibility of this new life being somewhat decent.
When Oliver sat her down, 3 weeks away from their wedding day, Sarah began to feel antsy, though safe. There was something to Oliver she never experienced before. He didn't push or get angry with her, he seemed just as confused about this entire thing as she did. The way his shadow engulfed her tiny frame in a protective manner sent a shiver of appreciation down her spine. It was how his shoulders were broad and squared, his arms muscular and strong, his profession being that of pure protection and authority. Oliver Grean, the sheriff of the town, who had intentions of buying them both a house where they could live comfortably together and live out their lives in accordance with their parents' wishes.
He sat across from her, hands folding together. Oliver seemed nervous, watching her carefully as if he feared she'd run away from him. That talk was slow and awkward, but Sarah soon realized something she never thought would happen. In the way he was speaking to her, he couldn't keep eye contact. When he said her name, he'd smile, only to quickly wash it away with a gentle shake of his head.
Oliver. Just spit it out. Sarah had said to him, softening the slight impatience that dripped from her tone.
Alright, listen... Sarah, Oliver started, rubbing the back of his head. I know it may be too soon. She sat across from him, stomach doing somersaults in her thin body.
But if we're going to be doing this, together, then we need to be completely honest with each other.
I agree. Sarah nodded, feeling the sudden creep of his fingers into hers.
YOU ARE READING
The Grean Household
Romance"It was a mistake..." She told her mother, folding her hands into each other. "Marrying him..." Her mother said nothing, she simply sat there as her only daughter stood across from her, on the verge of collapsing from bruised ribs and cracked shins...
