Twist of Fate

Chapter1: Flashback

Twist of Fate

Chapter1: Flashback

            I'm on my balcony.

The cold marble feels hard beneath my elbows. I find comfort in the familiar texture of it—the comfort I need. I stroke Dee, my very own Bengal cat, who is perched on the ledge and she purrs at each movement of my hand against her golden brown fur. Dee was given to me on the day I got married by my very own husband.

            As my mind strays to him, every thought of comfort I have desperately clings to me.

I look down to the small urban town at the bottom of the small hill where my husband's mansion sits. There, in the middle of it all, I see him in his red beret—imminent against the heads of people who gathered to witness what was happening.

He is in the face of a "rebel" (he calls the people who oppose his every decision "rebels"; like me). There were muffled echoes of curse words and yelling. The rebel was gesturing wildly about, while my husband was pointing fiercely at the town’s prison with his one hand. The rebel was bald—I could tell by the sun glistening off his oily scalp.

            The afternoon sun here could do that.

            I see my husband's other hand grip his handgun—probably tightly, but if it’s in anger, frustration or fear I didn’t know—and I wonder how and where this rebel got the guts to face him. People—like me, again—are scared of my husband. Scared enough to avoid stepping in his way. I mean it literally. He was Superior Officer of the National Police after all.

            Slowly, memories flash back and soon, I am captured in the past.

            My husband, Lemencly "Lenick" Auswald, was kind, passionate and considerate. It is because of that, that I had loved him before we got married. But, now? I feel as though I am just obliged to stay with him. Like I need to cook his food, care for him, wash his clothes and clean his house. Like our maids. All our love-felt moments gone the moment we learned I was barren. My husband seemed to turn to stone to everyone. Even me.

Especially me.

            It hurt to see that his reaction was like that. I mean, what control do I have over this? Did he think I actually wanted this?

            Never have I ever experienced control of my life. Never. Everything had to be handled or led by others, and I had no choice in anything. Sometimes, I feel mad. Mad at the world for doing this to me.

            I was adopted, you see.

My foster parents own these large hectares of land. But they couldn’t sustain them financially. The Auswalds saw the land one day and were interested and so, they bought it. Only in one condition, though: to arrange their son in a marriage. They said Lemencly was a wreck that time; parties, dancing, drinking, smoking. The only solution his parents saw was to tie him down to a girl to stop his habits.

My foster parents agreed. It was perfect; there was no need to pay them with money for sustaining the land. Only, there was a tiny problem. The main problem, actually.

Ms. Flonie, my foster Mum, was barren. How were they supposed to offer a child if she was childless? If they told the Auswalds, they would possibly draw back from the agreement. If they did, who then would sustain the land? They would be homeless! So the solution was for her to adopt someone who looked like her.

Me

The day before my fourteenth birthday, my foster parents sent me to live with the Auswalds. They—including the Auswalds—thought it better that I know my . . . fiancé as early as possible. The more years we took to strengthen our “bonds”, the better.