I knew this day would have come since I was 12. My parents had made a deal to marry me off on my
21st birthday. Everything had been set, and I was given a husband long before I knew I existed.
And now, I have to spend the rest of my life with him all because of tradition.
All because of my parents' massive wealth. I'm standing in my dressing room with at least
five people tending to me. I was born rich. I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth which
is also why I don't have to lift a finger to get ready for my wedding day. Everyone is excited,
they are grinning and laughing and just happy. Everyone except for me. My freedom is gone.
And I am never going to get it back. I am numb. Last night, I'd been crying my eyes out.
My friend said it's going to be okay, but I know it's not. I have never seen this guy. I have no
idea who he is and how he is. Whether he's a beast, an abuser, a liar, a drunk or a cheat,
all I know is that he is to be my husband, that he is wealthy, just as rich as my family.
I want to think happy thoughts. I want to think that he's a good person, but based on past experiences
of my friends, they are never a good person. Rich men are usually chaotic beings. They are raised
as animals. They have no manners and care for nothing. I should run away. I should leave this
wretched place. But I can't. Where will I go and how will I survive? I've been living off my parents
since I was born. I know nothing of working for my bread, as they call it. The assistant my mom
hired to get me ready for today's event snaps her fingers, bringing me back to the real world.
Well, she asks. I peer at my reflection. I look beautiful. Had this day been a day where I was
actually marrying the person I loved, then I would have had something to say. Sadly, I don't feel
anything besides the weight of this goddamn dress. The assistant sighs. This wedding is going to be
amazing. I stare at her, but I don't say anything. She can say that because she's getting paid for
this. And she doesn't have to endure the future that is about to be cursed onto me. I'm trying my
best not to cry because I'll smudge my mascara and my makeup. Mom would be pissed and I hate it when
she's mad. There's no more room for crying now. I have to accept what my life is. The woman snaps
her fingers again and her minions begin bustling around me trying to get the last detail in.
When they are finally finished, they stand in a line and stare at me as if I'm some doll in plastic
ready to be opened and played with. Maybe I am the doll in plastic. In a few moments,
my husband will unwrap me to do whatever he wants and I can't do anything about it.
I take a look at myself one last time in the mirror. One last time of the single me. The free me.
Just five months ago, I'd been in college with one more year to go before I secured my accounting
degree. I'd been going to parties and hanging out with my friends and having a grand time as
how people my age are supposed to do. Now I'm soon to be betrothed to a stranger and I may never
get to finish my degree because my mother says that it's up to my husband. My mother enters the
room and the place grows silent. She can be like that at times. People enable her. They make her
feel important and she rides on that shit. Mom stops beside me and then slowly encircles me.
She has a thing for neatness. She doesn't like anything out of place.
After a few minutes, she is satisfied and dismisses her staff. Beautiful, she says.
Sergio is going to love you. Oh, right. It's all coming back to me. Two nights ago,
mom and dad had briefed me on my husband to be. Sergio Bonaparte is his name. He's 30 and already
runs his father's oil company. He is a chemical engineer, but he's also his father's right-hand
man or whatever you call it. My mother takes my hand. She knows that I'm upset. She knows that I
hate all of this, but she doesn't care. Well, if she does, she's not showing it.
You and Sergio are going to have such beautiful babies.
Hopefully, sooner than we think. She touches my cheek and winks. Now come. You can't let the
groom wait all afternoon. She leads me into the hallway and there stands my six bridesmaids and
three flower girls. Family, of course. At least I got my best friend to be the maid of honor.
Had it been up to my mom, she would have picked that too. Rebecca, my best friend, squeals when
she sees me. Before she can hug me, mom darts her arm out in front of us. I'm sorry, but do you want
to ruin her makeup and dress? No, hugging. Rebecca holds my hands from arm's length. B, you look
gorgeous. My dress is layered like a Disney princess. It's a cold shoulder and kind of looks like the
one Belle wears when she first dances with the Beast. Mom, with her extravagant self,
has plastered rhinestones on every free space she could find. I'm literally a white disco ball.
I give Rebecca a small smile and say thanks. Come Bianca, it's time. Mom says,
we head downstairs and stand behind the double doors to the chapel. The church is huge,
ridiculously huge, and I'm positive there are at least 500 guests at my wedding. My bridal party
has gotten behind the double doors, awaiting their turn to walk down the aisle. When the doors
finally open, the music begins playing. My bridesmaids are first. I don't even know what
happens next because everything turns into a blur. I am out of it. Only when I'm at the
front of the altar, I recognize myself. My father kisses me on the cheek over the veil and walks away.
A veil that's supposed to signify my purity. I step forward and face my husband to be.
He is breathtaking, handsome. Sergio is nothing like what I imagined. He's the exact opposite,
and this frightens me. He looks like the kind of guy to have his pedicure done and his suits
tailored. He seems like everyone would be at his beck and call. Sergio looks rough around the edges,
so it means that he's not afraid to get his hands dirty. There's a tattoo on his neck,
the rest of it hiding behind his shirt collar, and one on the back of his palm, a tribal one with
sharp edges. What does that mean? I take a deep breath. Sergio eyes me, but I'm sure he cannot
see my full face behind the veil. My mother has made sure of that. The pastor begins his sermon
by speaking about love, honor, and respect. But all of this is a lie. This man won't honor me,
he won't respect me, and he sure as fuck won't love me. Why do we commit to things we will never do?
Why do we say these things in front of God knowing our true intentions? I repeat the vows
like an obedient child, and Sergio does the same. And when it comes to saying, I do, I say it quickly.
I just want to get this thing over with. I want to get out of here. But the sad thing about all of
this is that when I do get out of here, it's with a husband by my side. Five hours later,
I'm standing in a five-star hotel room looking at the one bed arranged for us. My husband and I are
supposed to be having a week-long honeymoon. Really, it starts tomorrow because our flight is in the
late morning. But I figured this is all an elaborate plan of my mother to get us started as quickly as
possible. I know she can get us a private jet and fly us out as soon as possible, but I know her.
I know how she can be conniving. She wants to make sure that something happens between us tonight,
that we consummate the marriage. I feel sick. I feel disgusted by all of this. Why is any of this
necessary? Why can't I just live my life without having these stupid consequences? Sergio walks
past me and heads into the bathroom, unfazed by any of this. He doesn't care because he's got himself
a wife, a woman he can control. Throughout the reception, he'd been on his phone talking to
God knows. He has barely glanced at me or even said one word to me besides our vows and I do.
And now I am stuck with him in this damn room with one bed. I hear the shower running, at least he
has decided to take a bath, at least he's considerate. I don't move from where I am. I'm still standing
in the middle of the room staring at nothing. Everyone said that I should be happy, that I
should be glad to have one of the most handsome bachelors as my husband, but I feel numb. The
shower comes off and in a few moments Sergio walks back into the room shirtless. This man is ripped.
He is fit. He is fucking toned. Sergio is wearing boxers but it does nothing to hide how well
endowed he is. I'm beginning to think that he is wearing that exact boxer to show off his goods.
I need to leave the room. The shower is free if you need to change. He says,
I take a deep breath and grab some of my clothing before heading into the bathroom.
I take a long hot steamy bath hoping it was long enough for him to fall asleep
and for me to get into bed without disturbing him. But by the time I'm finished getting dressed in one
of my mom's selections of lingerie and head back out, Sergio is on the bed with the sheets to his
stomach and clicking through the remote for the TV. He's wide awake, wide fucking awake.
God, my heart races. He's expecting us to do it tonight. He's expecting us to consummate the
marriage just as my mom said. I wouldn't doubt it if she had offered a large sum of money for him
to do it on the first night. I sit on the couch and keep my legs closed as tight as possible.
Sergio faces me, confusion etched on his face. Are you not coming to bed? I shake my head.
No, I'm fine here, thanks. Bianca. I said I'm fine here. I can sleep here.
He sits upright and this is the first glimpse of him, the real him, the monster that I'm about to
uncover because of my defiance. I suppose it's better to get it out now and get it over with
instead of the pretense. So I'll know what I'm dealing with. His voice gets low.
Bianca. I straighten my back. It's also the first time he has truly spoken to me.
Get into this bed now. It is not a request, nor am I asking for a response.
Bianca. I lift my chin. Bianca. No. Sergio's jaw tenses.
Bianca. I will not have my wife sleeping on a couch while there's a king-size bed for at
least three persons to sleep in. Bianca. I am good, husband. Bianca. I mock.
Bianca. Then you will leave me no choice but to get off this bed, pick you up and put you on it.
Is that what you want? Bianca. I shake my head because somehow I believe him. I believe he will
do exactly as he says. Aside from being as light as a feather, I really don't want him touching me.
I'm already half naked. Bianca. Then get your fucking ass in this bed right now.
Bianca. I stand and slowly make my way over to the empty side of the bed. I'm not following
his orders. I'm only doing what's in my best interest. I climb in, pull the sheets to my chest
and turn my back to face him. He's watching a sports channel. He's casually watching TV when
all I can think of is how my life has been destroyed. How I have no freedom to be me despite being very
rich. My family has taken my freedom and my dignity. They have taken everything and left me with nothing.
I try stifling my sobs but my emotions get the best of me. I can no longer go to school. I can't
party. I can't have a social life. I bite into the pillow. I jump when a weight touches my arm.
I don't wait to see what it is. I scamper off the bed and stand at the door.
Sergio holds his hands up in surrender. Sergio. I'm sorry. I thought I heard you crying.
Don't touch me. Sergio. I was only trying to see if you are okay.
Sergio. Why would you care? Sergio. Why would I not?
Sergio. I peer at him wiping my eyes with the back of my hand.
Because you are part of this. Part of the sham of a marriage. He pauses the TV.
Sergio. You think I wanted to get married?
Sergio. But you sure as hell went through with it.
Sergio. He eyes the TV and then back at me.
Sergio. And so did you.
Sergio. Well, he does have a point. Sergio sighs.
Sergio. Get back to bed, Bianca. If you're wondering, I'm not going to touch you.
And I don't have any plans for it. So you're safe.
I huff. Sergio resumes the television, leaving me standing at the door.
Why doesn't he have any plans on touching me? Does he have someone else?
Was that who he'd been on the phone with the entire time?
I should be glad. Happy that he has no interest in me, but instead, I feel like a sewer creature.
Sergio. What's wrong with me? No. What's wrong with him? Who is this casual about an arranged
marriage and a wife they have never met? Who is okay with sleeping next to a stranger?
I climb back in bed adjusting the sheets. And my husband was right. He didn't have any plans
on touching me because for the entire night, I slept like a fucking baby.