Chapter 1 - My French Husband
It was 10:25pm, I was in my dark bedroom, the only light source being the bright luminescent screen of my laptop. I had two minutes left and then I would turn eighteen... and I would be married to whoever God thought should be my husband. You might be thinking, is she out of her frigging mind? Well, no. In the world I live in, the second someone turns eighteen, a wedding ring appears on their finger. Each wedding ring is unique to each couple, and the larger it is (as in width) the more dangerous your partner... not necessarily to you but to others, at least that's what I think.
The minute hand turned over slightly, the time now 10:26. This entire day has been a nightmare, well day-mare. I come from a strict Indian family, and from the past year or so, I've been pressurised to marry the guy a few blocks down. Most of the time, I feel like they forget that we cannot choose our spouses. It's ridiculous. I've been subjected to beatings, so has my youngest sister. The many times she has been sent to hospital is now beyond my count, and each time they come up with a new excuse. Our parents have had a very strange life, they've been through so many ups and downs, and though they mean well, they don't really show it right.
Anyway, the guy a few blocks down is already eighteen, which brings me to my next point; if your partner is older than you, you still have to wait until you're eighteen, plus, your partner will know but they cannot tell you, because if they try, they will throw up, a lot. Also if they try to write to you, they lose the ability to write. Temporarily. Pretty strange if you ask me. However, others would be able to see it, except for his spouse. I looked at the digital clock on my screen and saw that I had ten seconds left. I took a few deep breaths, sending a quick prayer to God. I could hardly contain my excitement as I stared at the hand, watching my life as a maiden wisp away.
Two... what if it is Akshay? The guy who couldn't care less about who he is with, disposing of his relationships like a paper gone wrong. One. I sat perfectly still, watching a ring magically appear on my left hand. My breath was caught in my throat, but I didn't dare release it. To my surprise, the ring grew larger. Now that the ring had finally formed, I looked in awe at the large twist wrap ring, silver petals elongating from the small diamonds placed at equal intervals on the ring. In total, there were three flowers, minute diamonds studded around the outlines of the ring. Excitement and nerves ran rampant through me, both threatening to exhilarate me. I turned my hand, seeing the name engraved in black. Sébastien Cadieux.
I typed the name, hoping to see what will happen. My eyes were stunned by what I saw; he was the French Mafia leader. I nearly forgot, this is another thing in our world, you could find your spouse on the internet, but, like all the good things, it can only last a day. But I still couldn't freaking believe that I was married to the leader of the French Mafia. A loud knock broke me from my rash train of thoughts.
"Anaiya, has the wedding ring appeared yet? When will we meet jamai (son-in-law)?" My palms grew sweaty, the temperature of the room suddenly dropping. What was I going to say? That the one rule you had told me to stick with was broken? My phone rang, an unknown number.
"Hello Anaiya, I am your husband and I am on my way to get you. Currently I am tracing this call. I'll see you soon wifey." His deep voice sent crazy chills down my spine, my breathing laboured. I had only heard his voice, how was I going to be when I saw him? It was a pain in the neck that I hadn't yet seen him; even though pretty much everything comes up about our spouses, their appearances were a treat for us to see in person. Annoying if you ask me but that's that.
I stayed in my room, waiting for him to get me. I looked around the room, sighing, a mix of emotions savagely battling one another at the pit of my stomach. I picked up the special necklaces I was given by my grandmother on her death bed. She despised my mother, her daughter-in-law, because of how she had always treated us. Not to mention just how much of a bitch she was. Society this, society that. It was always about others. That was the thing in our household. My father followed every one of her orders without an argument, and she has always wanted to fit in, noting punishments from her friends to try on us. Like the one time she used a whip just because I refused her offer to go meet her friend's son.
Leaving was a blessing. I mean, don't get me wrong, I loved my family, but with the bloodied beatings and loud arguments, it's like everything I have ever wanted on a gold platter. I went through my clothes, picking the jeans, tank tops and other forbidden clothing. Our parents have never allowed us to wear anything other than a traditional wear, all about not tempting guys... A whole load of bullshit. It's common sense, they should know better, but, a shame my parents don't listen. All our photos and of course, my yarn and crochet hooks, a hobby that has been sustaining my sanity for many years. Finally, I turned to my purse. My job was a work from home one, and as I loved sciences and maths (my beloved four A Levels) I would host YouTube videos via my channel. It paid pretty well too, about two thousand pounds a month. People were always struggling, and so there was always money to be made.
I gathered a few more items, storing them in my massive suitcase. Realisation dawned upon me, when I remembered that I has to leave my sister alone. The elder two had already left, and we haven't heard from them since. Well, at least my sister and I hadn't, all we remember were the loud voices of our parents into a phone. My phone buzzed, and I checked it, seeing a message.
I'll be there in five. I smiled, feeling relieved, typing an ok.
