There's a rule when it comes to marriage in Sarah's family: She has to marry someone who is rich and be with an attractive man. After going on many dates with boring, self-centered rich men, Sarah grows bored and finally gives her parents her opinio...
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Sarah's POV:
A month after I turned 18, my parents have been on the hunt to find me a marriage mate. Someone who was tall, handsome and especially rich. Like us.
But I didn't care about something like that. Sure I wanted someone who was taller than me, good looking and had money to financially support for the both of us, but my parents were doing it in all the wrong reasons.
My dream guy ever since I was a young girl was someone who was caring and respecting towards others. Always putting people before himself; not greedy or selfish.
I've been on practically ten dates since I've turned 18 within the last month. The exhaustion and boredom I feel during these dates feel like they're slowing killing me.
Each time I've met a rich young man a year or two older than me, all they have done is talk about themselves. How spoiled they seem to be and how rich the family is because of the dad's booming business.
"Honey, are you ready to go on your date with Steven?" My mom beams.
Her high-pitch voice snaps me out of my thoughts.
I suppress the urge to roll my eyes and do my best to put on a fake, happy expression.
"Never mind. Make that 11 dates this past month." I groan.
I finish getting ready up for the date in my room for the fancy dinner party.
The place was called "Peak Kitchen" and it was known for one of the most fanciest restaurants in town.
I won't lie. On these dates beforehand I would always get nervous and feel the palm of my hands become sweaty.
Who knows. Maybe this will be the night where I actually find my soulmate
"Honey, we're waiting for you!" My mom calls out to me impatiently.
"I'm coming, mother!" I call back.
I give myself one more glance in the mirror, making sure I look perfect for tonight. Not wanting to see a strand of hair out of place.
Once reassuring myself that I looked pretty enough to step out the house, I hop inside my parents car and climb in the backseat.
"Now remember, honey." My mom says as she adjusts the mirror in her car, getting a better look at me.
"I want you to be nice and respectful to this young man and his parents. Understood?"
"Yes, mom. When have I ever been a bad impression on you guys?" I groan.
"It's just a reminder." My mom replies.
Yeah, one that I hear every car ride to the same restaurant every week
I fall back against the seat, crossing my arms over my chest as I begin too feel nervous but also hopeless.
