The Beautiful Witch

A short blare from a car’s horn has me rushing toward the window. From the slit between two curtain sheets, I look down the street and see the glossy-white Mercedes-Benz A-Class Edition parking just a few meters away from our doorstep.

The door suddenly flies open, grabbing my attention. Maya comes in, catching her breath. Her round, beautiful face gets distorted a bit by the flares of her nose. Yet, her eyes shine with mixed anxiety and excitement.

“Miss Kait, the chauffeur is here!”

“Yes, Maya. I’m looking at the white bridal car.”

“Isn’t it luxurious?” she whispers, her eyes popping wide. I laugh at her. We are alone in our room and no one can hear us even if she squeals. I made sure it is sound-proofed during my latest renovation.

I am an artist who keeps on changing the design of my properties including my room.

“It is.” I let out a sad smile and fix my gaze back on the car.

Above the sleek hood of the car sits a simple but elegant bouquet of fresh, white orchids, and green fillers, signifying the afternoon’s grand event. I would have been the happiest bride if only I would be marrying the man I had secretly loved for years. But after that humiliating incident that separated us, I lost my faith in love.

“Maya, can you tell everyone that I’m still doing my makeup?”

“Sure, Miss.”

“Thank you,” I tell her while watching her leave. As soon as I hear the creaking sound of a closing door, I help myself in front of my vanity mirror.

Refusing to have a stylist, I begin to do my makeup. I am an artist myself whose hands are fully capable of crafting my works closer to real-life objects and persona. Everyone who has seen my creation tells me that they’re like living replicas – staring and breathing.

Finally deciding on hazelnut brows, soft gold smokey eyes, a light blush, and a warm, neutral lips shade, I take a long look at myself in the full-length mirror. Looking right through me is a stunning lady whose natural beauty is enhanced by the sophistication of cosmetics.

I am perhaps the most beautiful bride today. No one is surely going to argue with me, even my groom whom I haven’t seen yet.

Thinking about that irony, I burst into loud laughter. What bride in her right mind would consent to marriage without seeing her groom? The answer might be I am alone in this.

I keep on laughing through the sense of self-pity washing over me until tears rush down my cheeks, ruining my makeup. I am a fool, stupid, and probably possessing a robot-like mind whose movement and control rely on the mercy of its owner. But in my case, the owners are my parents.

I do my makeup again after my crying fit. And then I put on the bridal gown that my groom has brought for me.

Through the mirror, I stare at myself in that long wedding attire. Adorned with a diamond-studded wedding gown in a cut fitted to perfection, I look like Eve in the Garden of Eden, whose beauty knew no flaw. Perfect in shape with curves flaunted attractively in that silk creation, I sure am a perfect gift for a husband I haven’t met yet.

While gazing at the mirror, my thoughts wandered away. I think about Manong Isko, the gardener who worked for us, even before I was born. His words have been nagging in my mind as my wedding date gets closer, but I try to ignore them.

“Kait, I’m so sorry to tell you this, but my conscience does not allow me to rest..”

I see his unusually bothered expression in my mind. And I never remember seeing him like that before. He is always cheerful and happy about the things he does in the garden. His dedication and loyalty to his work for thirty years make my family trust him.

"What is it, Manong?” I remember asking him nervously.

“I have overheard your fiancé’s parents in a conversation while I was in the garden.”

“And what about it?” I admit I had seen my parents talking to what I thought were their business partners in that wooden gazebo in the garden.

“I don’t understand everything they said, but I had enough to conclude that behind your wedding is revenge waiting to be carried out.”

“Revenge?” I know my brows have already arched higher than where they are naturally.

"Throughout the conversation, they mentioned the tragedy of Hacienda de Luna.”

My heart jumps into a double somersault as I recall Manong Isko mentioning the tragedy of Hacienda de Luna.

Many times the previous years, my friends and relatives made fun of it during a conversation. They always steal glances at me, making me suspect that the incident was something terrible and shameful. One day, my father caught them and he flew into a rage. Being an influential man in business and status, they feared my father. And since then, the mention of Hacienda de Luna has become taboo.

But one time, during a birthday gathering, a careless mention of that name by a relative made my father flare up again. I immediately felt the tension. I even see some of them shaking and sweating profusely.

“Do you still want to live?!” scowled my father, grabbing a relative by his neck. If it were not for me jumping in the middle, that relative might have stopped breathing long ago.

I have always wanted to ask why, but I also know that delving into that incident is also forbidden, even to me, his only daughter. My father’s words are laws in our home, and whatever his decisions are must be followed like those are the ways to a perfect life.

Through time, I have forgotten about the underlying issues of Hacienda de Luna. I am too busy myself with the career I am currently focusing on – designing innovative and organic mannequins.

"Dear, as someone who sees you through from your infancy up to the present, you know I have loved you as my child. I just want you to be happy and be married to someone you love.” He gazed at me with so much love that I knew he was speaking from the bottom of his heart.