Be My Forever

1. Bookstore, Dreams and Debts.

The last thing I wanted to do was get wet in the rain. Yet, here I am. Drenched in water and mud, my once freshly pressed clothes in ruins. The storm had rolled in unexpectedly, catching me mid-errand with no shelter in sight. My umbrella, as luck would have it, decided to betray me at the worst possible moment, flipping inside out with a gust of wind and leaving me defenseless against the torrential downpour.

As I trudged along the sodden sidewalk, I couldn't help but think about the day ahead. My father's bookstore awaited, where I was supposed to help organize a new shipment of rare books and relieve him so he could visit relatives to borrow money to pay off his debtors. Now, I'd be showing up looking like a drowned rat. I tried to dodge the deeper puddles, but it was a futile effort. The city streets were a chaotic blend of rushing water and splashing cars, each one adding to my misery with every pass.

By the time I reached the bookstore, I was thoroughly soaked. I pushed open the door, the bell tinkling above me, and stepped into the cozy warmth. My father looked up from behind the counter, his expression a mixture of irritation and disapproval.

"You're late," he snapped. "I have to leave soon, and the store can't run itself."

"I'm sorry, Dad. The rain—" I began, but he cut me off with a wave of his hand.

"Excuses won't help keep this business afloat," he grumbled, grabbing his coat and hat. "Just make sure everything is in order. I'll be back by evening, hopefully with some good news."

I nodded, feeling the sting of his words. I hurried to the back room, where I attempted to wring out my clothes and pat myself dry with some old towels. It was a losing battle, but I managed to look somewhat presentable by the time I walked back out to the front.

The store was filled with the comforting smell of old paper and leather bindings, a stark contrast to the chaos outside. I took a deep breath, feeling some of my tension melt away. Despite the rough start, I was determined to make the best of the day. I straightened a display of vintage novels and arranged a stack of new arrivals, trying to ignore the dampness clinging to my clothes.

My phone buzzed again, this time with messages from my sisters. Both were out with their respective boyfriends, trying to charm their way into a better life, far away from our financial troubles and family responsibilities. They left me to manage the store and handle our father's moods, a role I had grown used to but never quite accepted. Was I envious of them? Sure. At Least they got to spend a little time away with little to contribute.

As I worked through the morning, customers trickled in, and I managed to lose myself in the routine of helping them find books and making small talk. The hours passed quickly, and by lunchtime, the rain had stopped, leaving the streets glistening under a weak sun. The bookstore was running fairly fine but it wasn't enough to repay the debts that accumulated over time ever since my father borrowed some money to pay my mother's medical bills and eventually his gambling addiction. I find a moment sit down and eat the sandwich I had hastily packed that morning. I couldn't help but think about my father, hoping his visit to our relatives would be successful. Despite his harsh words, I knew he was under immense pressure, and I wanted to help in any way I could. 

As the afternoon wore on, the store remained quiet, giving me time to catch up on some much-needed organizing. I lost myself in the rhythm of sorting and shelving, finding a sense of peace amidst the rows of books. Here, surrounded by the stories and history of countless authors, I felt a connection and purpose that helped me forget about the dampness of my clothes and the weight of my family's troubles.

Just as I was about to take a short break, the bell tinkled again, and I looked up to see Gaston swagger into the store. My heart sank. Gaston was the son of one of my father's debtors, a man who had been flirting with me persistently, despite my clear lack of interest. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and carried himself with an air of arrogance that made my skin crawl.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite bookworm," Gaston said, his voice dripping with condescension. He stepped forward, his heavy boots landing on a stack of books I had been sorting, scattering them across the floor without a second thought.

I forced a polite smile. "Gaston, what brings you here?"

He grinned, ignoring the mess he had made. "Oh, just thought I'd pay you a visit. You know, your father and I had a little chat recently. He mentioned how worried he is about you girls with the debts and the interests piling up."

My stomach tightened. "I see. Well, I'm quite busy, so if there's something specific you need—"

"Oh, there's something specific, alright," he interrupted, stepping closer and lowering his voice. 

"I was thinking about that and I had a conversation with your father. He thinks you and I could work out a little arrangement that would benefit both our families."

I stepped back, my discomfort growing. "I'm not sure I understand."

Gaston laughed, a harsh sound that echoed in the quiet store. "Come on, don't play coy. You know what I mean." He slips his finger underneath my chin and lifts my face up so our eye meet. "Marry me, and all your father's problems disappear. Simple as that."

I felt a wave of anger and disgust wash over me. "I'm not a bargaining chip, Gaston." I push his hand away "And I'm certainly not interested in marrying you."

His expression darkened, and he leaned in, his voice a menacing whisper. "You might want to rethink that. Your father's future depends on it. Your future depends on it." I turn my face to avoid looking at his face.

I stood my ground, my heart pounding in my chest. "Get out, Gaston. Now."

He sneered, straightening up and brushing imaginary dust from his jacket. "You'll come around. They always do." 

With one last condescending look, he turned and walked out, the bell tinkling mockingly in his wake. I sank into the nearest chair, feeling a mixture of relief and frustration. What has my father done now? As if the debt was not enough, he had to try and get me married to the most annoying, masochistic man on earth? Really? I take a deep breath trying to calm my nerves. Outside, it kept pouring cats and dogs. The weather resembling my very emotions. The rain might have soaked my clothes, and my family's struggles might have weighed heavily on my shoulders, but I refused to be bullied into a life I didn't want. I would find a way to help my father without sacrificing my own happiness. The storm inside the bookstore was far from over, but I was determined to weather it on my terms.