I was sitting in the study today, it's been about a week since I saw both Eli and Derek at the store. The last time I sat in the study my dad told me that I had 18 months to find a husband.
My mother and father walk in slowly, my father is supporting my mother's weight as they clomp across room.
"Mother, father" I say in a curious tone. "Hello?"
"Hello, Aira," my father greets me, solemnly. "We have some important news to tell you."
"What is it?" I ask, taken slightly aback for this.
"Aira, you know how your mother has been feeling a bit under the weather lately," my father explains.
"Yes?" I question, cautiously.
"It's a serious issue," he says. "A disease. Rather a lethal disease. Not contagious a bit, though."
I gasp. My mother is... sick.
My mother cuts in a this part. Her voice is somewhat weak. "The doctor says I only have eight months to live."
"What?" I stutter. This can't be happening; not to my own mother. Why isn't this all a dream?
"It'll be okay, Aira," my mother coaxes. "It's going to get better."
"I'm so sorry," I tell her.
"So am I," she tells me.
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YOU ARE READING
The Search
Fiksi IlmiahIn the distant future, everyone must be married by the age of nineteen. If you are not married by your nineteenth birthday, the government chooses your spouse. This is a fate Aira is dreading. She's also dreading her parents choosing her husband. Bu...
