Elite Affairs - Book one

Chapter Twelve

"You're so consumed by your own coldness that you've forgotten what it means to be human; it's time to crack open that frozen heart of yours and let some warmth in."

As Mariya and Açelya walked along the beautiful walkway, they witnessed the arrival of parents, alumni, and guests, each one more exquisite than the last. Luxurious cars, with gleaming paint jobs and precision-crafted details, pulled up to the entrance, disgorging impeccably dressed individuals who exuded wealth and sophistication. Designer handbags and briefcases, adorned with gold hardware and plush leather, swung from manicured hands, while tailored suits and dresses, crafted from the finest fabrics, rustled softly as their wearers moved.

Mariya's heart skipped a beat as she spotted her own parents, resplendent in their finery, stepping out of a sleek black limousine. Her mother's severe expression and her father's stern demeanor made Mariya's stomach twist with anxiety. She had been dreading this encounter all week, and had begged Açelya to accompany her for moral support. Açelya, sensing her friend's unease, gave her hand a reassuring squeeze as they approached the formidable couple.

Meanwhile, Sofiya was absent, having been dispatched to the field for the pep rally, a fate Mariya envied as she faced her parents' disapproving gazes. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the soft hum of polite conversation, punctuated by the muted laughter of the elite. It was clear that this was a gathering of the crème de la crème, where wealth and status were the unspoken currencies, and Açelya felt like an outside who was intruding.

Mariya's mother, a vision of elegance, stood before her, her golden blond hair cascading down her back like a river of sunset hues. Her features were finely chiseled, with high cheekbones and a slender nose, giving her a beautiful, yet austere, appearance. However, her face was a map of tension, her eyes narrowed into slits, her red lips pursed into a thin line, radiating an aura of fearfulness and strictness. Her exquisite taste in fashion was evident in the tailored, designer suit she wore, its crisp lines and precision-cut fabric accentuating her slender figure.

Mariya's father, a tall, imposing figure, loomed beside her mother, his blond hair cropped short, revealing a face that was equally handsome, yet equally forbidding. His eyes seemed to bore into Mariya's soul, his gaze piercing and unyielding, as if daring her to defy him. His jaw was set, his lips compressed, giving him a resolute, unyielding appearance, like a fortress wall that would not be breached. His suit, a masterpiece of tailoring, was a testament to his wealth and status, its subtle sheen and precise cut announcing his position among the elite. Together, they presented a united front, a formidable duo that commanded respect, and inspired fear.

Mariya's mother's gaze swept over her daughter, her eyes lingering on Mariya's curves before her lips curled into a disapproving sneer. "Mariya, darling, you're looking a bit... rounded, aren't you?" she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "I swear, I've told you time and time again to watch what you eat. You know we can't have you running around looking like a little dumpling."

Mariya's face burned with shame as her mother's words cut deep. She felt Açelya's hand on her arm, a silent show of support, but Mariya's eyes were fixed on her mother's critical gaze.

"I mean, really, Mariya, you need to take care of yourself," her mother continued, her tone dripping with condescension. "You can't just indulge in whatever you want and expect to look... presentable. You need to think about your figure, your health... your future."

Mariya's father cleared his throat, a subtle attempt to intervene, but Mariya's mother steamrolled on, her words slicing through the air like a knife. "I just don't want you to end up like some of those... unfortunate girls who let themselves go. You have a certain standard to maintain, Mariya. Our family's reputation depends on it."