FORCED MARRIAGE | Jenna Ortega x Female Reader

01

I.will.never.love.her. - Y/N

Tomorrow marks the big day—the day I finally meet the girl I'll spend the rest of my life with. The girl I'll marry. Just uttering those words makes me queasy. To claim I'm not curious about what she looks like would be a lie, though. Perhaps she's terribly unattractive, with foul breath, crooked teeth, mismatched body parts, and dreadful fashion sense... The mere thought sends shivers down my spine.

Honestly, I couldn't care less. I'll never love her anyway. It's impossible. Love can't be forced. They can coerce me into marriage, but they can never compel me to love someone. Even if she were the last person on Earth, I wouldn't want her. Never.

"Are you done, Mrs. Y/LN?" the maid beside me inquires.

I detest being addressed by my surname. It serves as a stark reminder of how different I truly am. I mean, sprawling mansions, fancy automobiles, servants, and arranged marriages? That's not the average life for everyone. I never aspired to emulate my parents, to live a life of luxury. I've always cherished simplicity. What's worse is, she knows I dislike being addressed that way. She's been working here for years.

"Yes, and please, stop calling me that. My name is Y/N," I assert as I rise from my seat.

I wish I could vanish and never return. I just want a normal life. Why do I have to marry her again? Oh right, because she comes from a respectable family. She must be a bourgeois—annoying and arrogant, with only wealthy acquaintances. I despise her even more.

My head has been throbbing since this morning... You tend to contemplate a lot when you know your life is about to change drastically. I trudge up to my room and collapse onto the bed. I have nothing to occupy myself with today. I'll just sleep the day away. Sleep might do me some good.

As I begin to drift off to sleep, I'm interrupted by a soft knock on my door.

"Yes?" I respond, devoid of enthusiasm.

The door creaks open, revealing the most beautiful woman in my eyes: my mother. Time has aged her somewhat, but she remains the only woman I can truly love.

"May I come in?" she asks.

She offers a reassuring smile, as if she's aware of the turmoil I've been enduring since morning. I simply nod, and she takes a seat on the edge of my bed.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she inquires gently.

All I can muster in response is, "Forced marriages suck."

She gazes at the floor, sighs, then meets my eyes with compassion. I know she understands what I'm going through. She's the only one who can comprehend me. I wonder if she accepted it more readily than I did. Not that I've accepted it, but you know...

"My love... With time, you may come to appreciate this person."

Yeah, right. She doesn't even know who this woman is. Maybe no one can love her. Maybe she's repulsive and repugnant. But one thing's for sure—I'll never love or appreciate her, not even with time.

"No, that fat bitch will never mean anything to me," I declare.

She sighs heavily, as if mustering her own courage.

Since that day, I've confided a lot in her. She always insisted that my future wife would need patience, or else she'd go completely mad, and I wholeheartedly agree. I've always rebelled against this and insulted her whenever the opportunity arose. You know what? I might even insult her when I see her too.

"Your father and I didn't have the smoothest start either, but look where we are now. We've built a successful life together," she reminds me with a smile.

After two children— one boy, one girl— three opulent homes in the UK, US, and France, nine luxury cars, three pedigreed dogs, ten maids, and everything a bourgeois could dream of. That's success in her eyes. I guess she's never experienced true love. Love is genuine happiness. She's never shared her feelings with another person. We, her children, weren't conceived out of love but out of duty.

"Come on, Mom! You were alone for years right here within these walls. He was and still never there! All he cares about is money, damn it!"

I turn away, burying my head in the pillow. I don't want to hear anything more from her. My life is ruined, and there's nothing she can do about it.

"Y/N, your father has devoted his life to our family's well-being. He works tirelessly, all for us," she defends.

"Yeah, yeah, I know the tune, alright. But let me tell you this. Whoever I'm marrying will mean nothing to me."

I sense her rising from the bed and making her way back to the door. I've wounded her, and I wish things were different for me. But she lacks the courage to confront my father. After all these years, she's never contradicted him—why start now?

"I love you, Y/N."

Hey! So, don't be shy in the comments and let me know your thoughts! The next chapter is the first meeting! Anyway, I will let you read peacefully, see you at the end hehe.

Take care of yourself ❤️