I never thought such thing could happen to me. -Y/N
Flashback, 2012.
As consciousness slowly pulls me from slumber, a gentle nudge interrupts my rest. My mother's touch brings me to the present, though the hour displayed on the clock, 8:37 am, raises a question. Why the early awakening on a Sunday, a day reserved for respite from the demands of school?
"Mom, it's Sunday... let me catch a few more hours of sleep, please," I plead, seeking the solace of my blankets.
Yet, her response carries a weight of urgency. "Y/N, please wake up. Your father is here and wishes to speak with you about something important."
The mention of my father's presence incites a mixture of apprehension and curiosity within me. Our interactions have been sparse, his absence a constant in my life overshadowed by his devotion to work and wealth. Despite our infrequent encounters, a summons from him piques my interest. Perhaps this occasion warrants my attention.
"Fine," I relent, rising from my bed and descending the stairs alongside my mother, the one constant source of warmth and care in my life.
As I enter the room, my father sits at the dining table, engrossed in the pages of a newspaper. His demeanor exudes an air of seriousness that fails to conceal the unease stirring within me. With a reassuring smile from my mother, I approach him.
"Hello, Y/NN," he acknowledges, his gaze still affixed to the paper.
"Hello," I respond, suppressing the irritation stirred by his chosen moniker.
As he sets the paper aside, a palpable tension fills the room, signaling the gravity of the impending conversation. With a deep breath, he begins.
"You know, Y/N, there is a tradition in our family," he states, prompting my intrigue and confusion.
A tradition? I nod in acknowledgment, though the revelation elicits more questions than answers. His next words unravel a truth I never fathomed.
"Your mother and I... we had an arranged marriage. She was promised to me since her birth."
Shock immobilizes me, disbelief mingling with a newfound understanding of my parents' union. The implications of their history cast a shadow over my comprehension.
"Is this true?" I implore, seeking confirmation from my mother, who stands behind me.
Her silent affirmation reinforces the reality of my father's revelation. With a heavy heart, he continues, disclosing the next chapter of our family's tradition.
"Well, since your birth, you have been promised to a young man named Henry. His father and I believe it is fitting for you to marry. He comes from a respectable, affluent family, and he is deemed suitable for you."
The weight of his words crushes me, the notion of being bound to a stranger by familial decree igniting a fierce resistance within me. I muster the courage to voice my dissent.
"Dad, I find it difficult to comprehend...," I begin, my voice faltering as tears threaten to betray my resolve.
His insistence on this predetermined path clashes with my desire for autonomy, for the freedom to choose my own destiny. I refuse to acquiesce to a fate dictated by tradition and obligation.
"But Dad, I'm in love!" I declare, defiance bolstering my voice despite the fear that grips me.
His reaction, a derisive scoff, stings, yet I stand firm in my proclamation, determined to assert my truth.
"Yes," I assert, mustering the courage to defy his expectations.
"And with whom"
"With Beatrice."
Nowadays
After much struggle, my father eventually came to terms with my sexuality, although it was a difficult journey for him. Yet, despite this acceptance, he still insists on orchestrating an arranged marriage for me with someone of his choosing. However, to me, this arrangement feels more like coercion than a genuine choice. According to him, it's about securing our family's fortune and maintaining societal appearances. But to me, it's nothing but nonsense.
I dedicated three years of my life to studying engineering, following in my father's footsteps. Admittedly, it's a lucrative career path.
Despite the looming prospect of this so-called "marriage," I've continued to live my life on my own terms. I've engaged in various short-term relationships and flings, refusing to let this impending union dictate my happiness. Yet, as the deadline draws nearer, I can't help but reflect on how quickly the past ten years have flown by. My father has found a prospective partner for me, but I've made it clear that I refuse to learn anything about her through intermediaries. If she's going to play a role in shaping my life, then I demand the courtesy of hearing her story directly from her. After all, she's had a hand in upending my entire existence.
In just four months, I will come face to face with this predetermined future wife. My father sings her praises, as if that could somehow mitigate the absurdity of the situation. But I suspect she harbors resentment towards me as well—and perhaps rightfully so. Oddly enough, her disdain might make the forthcoming interactions easier to navigate. Yet, despite the personal animosity, I can't shake the belief that this tradition is fundamentally flawed and selfish. *
As for my demeanor towards this future wife? Well, kindness isn't guaranteed.
Hey! Here's the inaugural chapter of our story, accompanied by a brief preamble. I trust you found it engaging. Brace yourself, as the journey ahead promises twists and turns aplenty! Until next time!
One question for you : I was planning to change the story at the end (once all chapters are out) and turn the whole thing into a " You as G!P". Would that be okay ? Or is it better to leave it like that?
Take care of yourself ❤️
DISCLAIMER:
The story is heavily inspired by the French fanfic of the same name by the author "cake like Zayn" who no longer is on Wattpad (and so is the story). Obviously all credit goes to the author.
Nevertheless, to respect copyright and to infuse a unique essence into this rendition, modifications have been implemented such as names, ages, dates, locations, certain subplots changed and characters removed.
YOU ARE READING
FORCED MARRIAGE | Jenna Ortega x Female Reader
FanfictionYou've been destined to someone since the age of 13. Someone you develop a strong dislike for. Someone you promised yourself to hate until your last breath. But you didn't expect that someone would be a girl named Jenna Ortega.
