All is Fair in Love and War

16. Wren

"All that I did I tried to undo it, all of my pain and all your excuses, I was a kid but I wasn't clueless, someone who loves you wouldn't do this! All of my past I tried to erase it, but now I see would I even change it? Might share a face and share a last name but, we are not the same!" - Conan Gray

(Warning § Body dysmorphia)

Winter break.

The only time of the year that I don't hate myself in.

Winter is great in many ways.

People often love winter because the cold allows them to wear very big clothes that conceal their bodies. They believe that people can't guess just how big or small they are underneath all these layers. Winter grants them a chance, a little break from their hateful mind, that they can stop sucking in their stomachs since the hoodies and jackets will hide it anyway.

But it never does.

However, that's not the reason I like winter break. In fact, winter is my least favorite season. It's too cold for me. No matter how many layers I wear, I'm always cold. Always freezing. My hands are always purple and my teeth are always clattering. My lips are always white, no matter how much I lick them, and my eyes? They're so pale.

And wearing so many layers all the time is very annoying.

Then why do I like winter break you ask?

Three years ago, on the seventh of January, during the winter break of ninth grade. This date marks the day when I read a book that changed me in many ways. One of my favorite romance books that I shall never forget. Every winter break reminds me of that day; the lavender scented essence stick I lit that morning, the fresh guava juice I drank, the moment my eyes laid on that specific book on the bookshelf.

It's a memory I never wish to forget.

Though it may seem silly, but this is the only reason I adore the winter break. Though this year's one doesn't look quite promising. The wedding is in 8 days.

8 days.

They're getting married on the New Year's Eve, and will sign everything exactly at 12. The start of the new year. The first of January. My mother is getting married on my fucking birthday.

What a delight that is.

The only day that I look forward to each year will now be a constant reminder of this complete stranger who shall call himself my mother's husband. Who shall call himself my dad and refer to me as his daughter. Who shall introduce me to his children from another woman and call them my siblings. The day where the life I've known since I was a child will change; it just had to be the day of my birth.

But I can't be bitter about it. After all, my mother can't be happier than I am about this whole situation. She's being traded like an item in order to aid her family's business. Even after all these years, she's still commanded to do what her own father asks for in order to bring honor to the family name.

I'm grateful that I'm not an item of interest like my mother, but she sure makes it sound like it's a normal thing. She has taught me that in the world of business, love and serenity can't be found. Only anger, vengeance, and foul play sometimes can be the qualities of a business owner.

She may be right. In fact, I'm almost positive that she's right.

But the catch here is the word almost.

No way am I letting myself be full of all these depressing things just in order to own a successful company or business. Whether people like it or not, I'm leading my business in my own way. And I'm definitely not trading myself like a prostitute from one man to another to help my business and create alliances.