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I knew this day would have come since I was 12. My parents had made a deal to marry me off on my

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21st birthday. Everything had been set, and I was given a husband long before I knew I existed.

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And now, I have to spend the rest of my life with him all because of tradition.

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All because of my parents' massive wealth. I'm standing in my dressing room with at least

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five people tending to me. I was born rich. I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth which

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is also why I don't have to lift a finger to get ready for my wedding day. Everyone is excited,

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they are grinning and laughing and just happy. Everyone except for me. My freedom is gone.

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And I am never going to get it back. I am numb. Last night, I'd been crying my eyes out.

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My friend said it's going to be okay, but I know it's not. I have never seen this guy. I have no

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idea who he is and how he is. Whether he's a beast, an abuser, a liar, a drunk or a cheat,

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all I know is that he is to be my husband, that he is wealthy, just as rich as my family.

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I want to think happy thoughts. I want to think that he's a good person, but based on past experiences

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of my friends, they are never a good person. Rich men are usually chaotic beings. They are raised

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as animals. They have no manners and care for nothing. I should run away. I should leave this

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wretched place. But I can't. Where will I go and how will I survive? I've been living off my parents

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since I was born. I know nothing of working for my bread, as they call it. The assistant my mom

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hired to get me ready for today's event snaps her fingers, bringing me back to the real world.

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Well, she asks. I peer at my reflection. I look beautiful. Had this day been a day where I was

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actually marrying the person I loved, then I would have had something to say. Sadly, I don't feel

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anything besides the weight of this goddamn dress. The assistant sighs. This wedding is going to be

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amazing. I stare at her, but I don't say anything. She can say that because she's getting paid for

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this. And she doesn't have to endure the future that is about to be cursed onto me. I'm trying my

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best not to cry because I'll smudge my mascara and my makeup. Mom would be pissed and I hate it when

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she's mad. There's no more room for crying now. I have to accept what my life is. The woman snaps

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her fingers again and her minions begin bustling around me trying to get the last detail in.

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When they are finally finished, they stand in a line and stare at me as if I'm some doll in plastic

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ready to be opened and played with. Maybe I am the doll in plastic. In a few moments,

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my husband will unwrap me to do whatever he wants and I can't do anything about it.

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I take a look at myself one last time in the mirror. One last time of the single me. The free me.

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Just five months ago, I'd been in college with one more year to go before I secured my accounting

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degree. I'd been going to parties and hanging out with my friends and having a grand time as

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how people my age are supposed to do. Now I'm soon to be betrothed to a stranger and I may never

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get to finish my degree because my mother says that it's up to my husband. My mother enters the

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room and the place grows silent. She can be like that at times. People enable her. They make her

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feel important and she rides on that shit. Mom stops beside me and then slowly encircles me.

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She has a thing for neatness. She doesn't like anything out of place.

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After a few minutes, she is satisfied and dismisses her staff. Beautiful, she says.

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Sergio is going to love you. Oh, right. It's all coming back to me. Two nights ago,

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mom and dad had briefed me on my husband to be. Sergio Bonaparte is his name. He's 30 and already

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runs his father's oil company. He is a chemical engineer, but he's also his father's right-hand

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man or whatever you call it. My mother takes my hand. She knows that I'm upset. She knows that I

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hate all of this, but she doesn't care. Well, if she does, she's not showing it.

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You and Sergio are going to have such beautiful babies.

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Hopefully, sooner than we think. She touches my cheek and winks. Now come. You can't let the

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groom wait all afternoon. She leads me into the hallway and there stands my six bridesmaids and

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three flower girls. Family, of course. At least I got my best friend to be the maid of honor.

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Had it been up to my mom, she would have picked that too. Rebecca, my best friend, squeals when

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she sees me. Before she can hug me, mom darts her arm out in front of us. I'm sorry, but do you want

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to ruin her makeup and dress? No, hugging. Rebecca holds my hands from arm's length. B, you look

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gorgeous. My dress is layered like a Disney princess. It's a cold shoulder and kind of looks like the

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one Belle wears when she first dances with the Beast. Mom, with her extravagant self,

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has plastered rhinestones on every free space she could find. I'm literally a white disco ball.

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I give Rebecca a small smile and say thanks. Come Bianca, it's time. Mom says,

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we head downstairs and stand behind the double doors to the chapel. The church is huge,

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ridiculously huge, and I'm positive there are at least 500 guests at my wedding. My bridal party

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has gotten behind the double doors, awaiting their turn to walk down the aisle. When the doors

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finally open, the music begins playing. My bridesmaids are first. I don't even know what

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happens next because everything turns into a blur. I am out of it. Only when I'm at the

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front of the altar, I recognize myself. My father kisses me on the cheek over the veil and walks away.

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A veil that's supposed to signify my purity. I step forward and face my husband to be.

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He is breathtaking, handsome. Sergio is nothing like what I imagined. He's the exact opposite,

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and this frightens me. He looks like the kind of guy to have his pedicure done and his suits

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tailored. He seems like everyone would be at his beck and call. Sergio looks rough around the edges,

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so it means that he's not afraid to get his hands dirty. There's a tattoo on his neck,

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the rest of it hiding behind his shirt collar, and one on the back of his palm, a tribal one with

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sharp edges. What does that mean? I take a deep breath. Sergio eyes me, but I'm sure he cannot

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see my full face behind the veil. My mother has made sure of that. The pastor begins his sermon

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by speaking about love, honor, and respect. But all of this is a lie. This man won't honor me,

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he won't respect me, and he sure as fuck won't love me. Why do we commit to things we will never do?

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Why do we say these things in front of God knowing our true intentions? I repeat the vows

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like an obedient child, and Sergio does the same. And when it comes to saying, I do, I say it quickly.

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I just want to get this thing over with. I want to get out of here. But the sad thing about all of

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this is that when I do get out of here, it's with a husband by my side. Five hours later,

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I'm standing in a five-star hotel room looking at the one bed arranged for us. My husband and I are

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supposed to be having a week-long honeymoon. Really, it starts tomorrow because our flight is in the

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late morning. But I figured this is all an elaborate plan of my mother to get us started as quickly as

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possible. I know she can get us a private jet and fly us out as soon as possible, but I know her.

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I know how she can be conniving. She wants to make sure that something happens between us tonight,

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that we consummate the marriage. I feel sick. I feel disgusted by all of this. Why is any of this

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necessary? Why can't I just live my life without having these stupid consequences? Sergio walks

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past me and heads into the bathroom, unfazed by any of this. He doesn't care because he's got himself

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a wife, a woman he can control. Throughout the reception, he'd been on his phone talking to

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God knows. He has barely glanced at me or even said one word to me besides our vows and I do.

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And now I am stuck with him in this damn room with one bed. I hear the shower running, at least he

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has decided to take a bath, at least he's considerate. I don't move from where I am. I'm still standing

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in the middle of the room staring at nothing. Everyone said that I should be happy, that I

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should be glad to have one of the most handsome bachelors as my husband, but I feel numb. The

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shower comes off and in a few moments Sergio walks back into the room shirtless. This man is ripped.

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He is fit. He is fucking toned. Sergio is wearing boxers but it does nothing to hide how well

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endowed he is. I'm beginning to think that he is wearing that exact boxer to show off his goods.

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I need to leave the room. The shower is free if you need to change. He says,

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I take a deep breath and grab some of my clothing before heading into the bathroom.

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I take a long hot steamy bath hoping it was long enough for him to fall asleep

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and for me to get into bed without disturbing him. But by the time I'm finished getting dressed in one

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of my mom's selections of lingerie and head back out, Sergio is on the bed with the sheets to his

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stomach and clicking through the remote for the TV. He's wide awake, wide fucking awake.

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God, my heart races. He's expecting us to do it tonight. He's expecting us to consummate the

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marriage just as my mom said. I wouldn't doubt it if she had offered a large sum of money for him

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to do it on the first night. I sit on the couch and keep my legs closed as tight as possible.

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Sergio faces me, confusion etched on his face. Are you not coming to bed? I shake my head.

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No, I'm fine here, thanks. Bianca. I said I'm fine here. I can sleep here.

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He sits upright and this is the first glimpse of him, the real him, the monster that I'm about to

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uncover because of my defiance. I suppose it's better to get it out now and get it over with

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instead of the pretense. So I'll know what I'm dealing with. His voice gets low.

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Bianca. I straighten my back. It's also the first time he has truly spoken to me.

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Get into this bed now. It is not a request, nor am I asking for a response.

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Bianca. I lift my chin. Bianca. No. Sergio's jaw tenses.

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Bianca. I will not have my wife sleeping on a couch while there's a king-size bed for at

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least three persons to sleep in. Bianca. I am good, husband. Bianca. I mock.

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Bianca. Then you will leave me no choice but to get off this bed, pick you up and put you on it.

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Is that what you want? Bianca. I shake my head because somehow I believe him. I believe he will

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do exactly as he says. Aside from being as light as a feather, I really don't want him touching me.

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I'm already half naked. Bianca. Then get your fucking ass in this bed right now.

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Bianca. I stand and slowly make my way over to the empty side of the bed. I'm not following

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his orders. I'm only doing what's in my best interest. I climb in, pull the sheets to my chest

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and turn my back to face him. He's watching a sports channel. He's casually watching TV when

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all I can think of is how my life has been destroyed. How I have no freedom to be me despite being very

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rich. My family has taken my freedom and my dignity. They have taken everything and left me with nothing.

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I try stifling my sobs but my emotions get the best of me. I can no longer go to school. I can't

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party. I can't have a social life. I bite into the pillow. I jump when a weight touches my arm.

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I don't wait to see what it is. I scamper off the bed and stand at the door.

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Sergio holds his hands up in surrender. Sergio. I'm sorry. I thought I heard you crying.

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Don't touch me. Sergio. I was only trying to see if you are okay.

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Sergio. Why would you care? Sergio. Why would I not?

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Sergio. I peer at him wiping my eyes with the back of my hand.

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Because you are part of this. Part of the sham of a marriage. He pauses the TV.

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Sergio. You think I wanted to get married?

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Sergio. But you sure as hell went through with it.

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Sergio. He eyes the TV and then back at me.

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Sergio. And so did you.

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Sergio. Well, he does have a point. Sergio sighs.

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Sergio. Get back to bed, Bianca. If you're wondering, I'm not going to touch you.

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And I don't have any plans for it. So you're safe.

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I huff. Sergio resumes the television, leaving me standing at the door.

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Why doesn't he have any plans on touching me? Does he have someone else?

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Was that who he'd been on the phone with the entire time?

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I should be glad. Happy that he has no interest in me, but instead, I feel like a sewer creature.

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Sergio. What's wrong with me? No. What's wrong with him? Who is this casual about an arranged

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marriage and a wife they have never met? Who is okay with sleeping next to a stranger?

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I climb back in bed adjusting the sheets. And my husband was right. He didn't have any plans

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on touching me because for the entire night, I slept like a fucking baby.

