Kingdom

In the grand dining hall of the Abiodun Kingdom, King Owolabi sat with his two children, Bukola and Damilola. The room was hushed, disturbed only by the clinking of utensils against plates.

Observing my brother’s lack of table manners, it was evident he hadn’t absorbed the etiquette lessons I’d imparted.

The silence lingered until my father, noticing my untouched plate, inquired about my well-being.

I responded with a straightforward “No.” How could he expect otherwise, having just informed me of an arranged marriage looming in two years? To make matters more unsettling, I was destined to become the promised fiancée to the prince of Emarisal from the neighboring kingdom.

Daddy, I don’t want to marry the prince; he’s cold and rude, and I can’t stand his annoying white lotus sister,” I exclaimed.

“Bukola!” my dad interjected, reminding me of my duty as the princess. “You know you have to marry to end the cold war between our kingdom and Emarisal. What about my happiness, Dad?” I asked tearfully. “I want to marry someone I love and who loves me.”He approached me, consoling, and placed his hand on my cheek. “You know I can’t do that, Bukola. This is the only way out,” he explained.

As tears streamed down my face, I pulled away and rushed to my room. He sighed and left the dining room.

Meanwhile, Damilola sat there, his little body processing the weight of the news about his sister’s impending marriage.

In my bedroom, I sobbed, devastated by the shattered fantasy of marrying for love and living a happy life. Abike, my maid and motherly figure since my mother’s passing, walked in. Amidst tears, I confided that I didn’t want this arranged marriage, and she sympathized with me, unable to change the situation.Attempting to bring positivity, she suggested the marriage might not be as bad as I feared, and the prince and I could grow to love each other if we bonded. Little did she know, we both despised each other, and his sister, Angelina, was no exception.

For those wondering how I knew them, we attended the same academy, along with princes, princesses, future dukes, and other children of higher officials. He had graduated four years earlier, and I was on the verge of graduating with his sister Angelina this year.

She bathed me for the night and left after I was dressed in my nightgown. I gazed at my reflection in the mirror, revealing my beautiful brown skin glowing in the moonlight, long black curly hair, and a figure with curves in all the right places.

My nightgown hugged my big breasts, emphasizing my tiny waist and a face adorned with long lashes and full round lips, a delicate blend of pink and black tint.I don’t like to brag, but I know I am beautiful. Sometimes, though, I can’t help feeling insecure about not having a petite figure, rumored to be favored by some men.

It makes me yearn for a future where someone will appreciate me for who I am.With my eyes still red from the shed tears earlier, I crawled into bed, overwhelmed by the recent news. As I lay there, I couldn’t help but ponder what the future held for me. Sleep eluded me as thoughts of the impending arranged marriage and an uncertain future lingered in my mind.