I'll approach you with the most beautiful smile, and then I'll spit in your face. -Y/N
"Y/N, hurry up and get in the car, please!"
My mother's urgent call from downstairs fails to motivate me. As I stare at my reflection in the mirror, I can't help but feel like a complete mess. The plan is straightforward: I aim to repel my future wife. I throw on sweatpants that have seen better days, neglect to style my hair, skip makeup, perfume, and deodorant. I refuse to doll up for that jerk—I already despise her. Today marks the day I'll meet the woman who's supposed to spend the rest of her life with me. Today, everything changes.
"Good lord, Y/N!"
My mother's exclamation snaps me out of my thoughts. I trudge downstairs, where she briefly comments on my attire before rushing us out to the car. I follow suit, taking a seat beside her as the car pulls away.
"Where are we going?" I ask, a sharp edge to my tone.
My mother adjusts her dress and clears her throat before responding. She's wearing minimal makeup, her hair pulled back into a bun, exuding a simple yet stunning elegance. Unlike some mothers who prioritize appearances over everything else, mine has always been there for my brother and me. Kameron, who recently turned 18, and I drifted apart when I left for college, only reconnecting sporadically. During my last five months back home, I've spent my time with my closest friends, Hailee and Angelina, making memories I cherish.
"We're going to see your future home," my mother says.
Ah, yes, the house my father purchased for us. I've never laid eyes on it and couldn't care less. According to my mother, it's slightly smaller than ours but supposedly "wonderful." It's within these walls that I'm meant to meet Miss Jerk and her mother. The remainder of the journey is spent in silence, my stomach churning with nerves, feeling as though my heart might leap out of my chest. When we arrive, I exit the car and take in the driveway and expansive garden. Big deal. I'll never spend much time here anyway. My mother leads the way, and as we step inside, I hear a feminine gasp. They're here—her and her mother. Here goes nothing.
"Delighted to finally meet you," my mother says, embracing the girl with her back to me.
As they part, the girl turns around, revealing a childlike face. Strange. Is this really her? The one I'm supposed to marry? She looks like a child.
"Let me introduce you to Y/N," my mother says to the girl.
Her smile fades, confirming she's indeed my future wife. Our gazes lock, time standing still as the weight of our impending union settles upon me. It's her, the girl I've dreaded since childhood, since I am 13—the one who's seemingly stolen every potential love story from me. She's the one destined to be my future, and I can't quite believe it. My heart stops, my legs feel like jelly, all I can focus on are her eyes boring into mine.
"Aren't you going to introduce yourself?" my mother's voice breaks the spell.
I manage to murmur my name, embarrassment flooding over me. I dare not meet her gaze again, not after what just transpired. All I remember are those piercing brown eyes.
"Jenna," she says softly, tears glistening in her eyes.
Her voice is high, higher than mine, and as I look up at her, I notice she's not smiling. Tears glisten in her eyes. Why is she crying? Is my appearance that repulsive to her? Good. It's not like we can call off the wedding, anyway. She's clad in black jeans or leggings—no, they're impossibly tight jeans—and a shirt adorned with ghastly patterns. Her long, unkempt hair cascades down her chest, which, by the way, lacks any noticeable curves. A petite nose, odd-looking lips, and oversized shoes complete the ensemble. Just when I thought she couldn't get any worse, she does.
"Jenna and Y/N, go chat in the living room while I speak with your mother," a woman beside mine interjects.
Ignoring the woman, I follow Jenna into the living room, albeit begrudgingly. She settles onto a white couch, and I take a seat, keeping my distance. The silence becomes stifling, punctuated only by the giggles from the other room—a sound that heightens my discomfort. I have no desire to engage with her, to learn anything about her. She's ugly, and her unyielding stare only exacerbates my irritation.
"Are you done staring?" I finally snap, turning to face her.
She flinches, a sign of cowardice in my eyes. Even her apologies fail to sway me; she continues to scrutinize me, further aggravating me.
"Sorry," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.
Despite her apology, her gaze remains fixed on me, unnerving me further. What's her deal? So what if I'm ugly? I deliberately made myself look this way.
"Are you surprised by my appearance?" she asks timidly.
"Yes," I reply bluntly.
She nods, maintaining eye contact. It's becoming unnerving.
Thankfully, I won't have to endure this for long. I'll find solace in one of my flings tonight, seeking refuge from this madness.
"Tomorrow, I'll be known as Jenna Y/LN-ORTEGA," she whispers.
I turn to her, met with a shy smile. What does she want? It's not like I'll be sleeping with her anytime soon.
"Tonight will be the first time we share a house," she continues.
Why is she telling me this? We're not friends. We'll never be friends.
"It's with you that I'll adopt children," she says.
Do I look like I care? We're not a happy couple. We're not even a couple.
"Did you have a good New Year's Eve?" she asks abruptly.
"Shut up"
Those are the only words I can muster. Sorry. No, I'm not sorry. I despise her. I despise you.
She's much more beautiful than anything I could have imagined. Her eyes are indefinable, I could stare at them for hours and hours. - J
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.
