ONE
ESMERAY
No more than thirty minutes ago, I was tiptoeing on the verge of a sharp and abrupt cliff. I was glancing over my shoulder in fright, even if the path behind was leading home, but I breathed in relief at the sight of the nothingness that the cliff was cutting in half.
The road back home signified marrying a man I had loathed my entire life—asafechoice—while the abyss many would be scared of represented freedom.
I had a decision to make, and I thought I was at peace with walking on the safe path a long time ago, but when I saw the look in his eyes…
It was nothing like the respectful or even loving gaze I saw in the gaze of my brothers-in-law as they walked down the aisle. It was pure, raw obsession.
So I jumped off the cliff.
“Did you eat today?”Mom asks as I watch myself in the mirror.
The wedding dress sits tightly on my upper body, falling on my legs similar to a ballet skirt but much longer. The same way the outfit I’m wearing today was chosen months prior withoutmy opinion considered, it’s how my life had been carefully sewn long before I was born.
There’s nothing about this dress that screams… me. It’s like I’m living in someone else’s skin, that I’m an intruder in my own body, and no matter how hard I try to get out, the owner is too stubborn to set me free.
I meet my mom’s gaze in the mirror. If I were a stranger and had to guess who this “big day” belonged to, I would’ve bet all my money on her. It’s not only the high and sleek brown bun on top of her head or the exaggerated makeup, but also her clothing choice.
A white dress—one that she wore when she married Dad and the one that she wore to all of my sisters’ weddings. It’s completely transformed now that our financial situation has changed, and it no longer looks like a cheap curtain.
We’ve been to enough weddings to know that no one wears white at one where she’s not the bride unless it’s out of spite. So I asked her why she does it.
Mom said that she’s wearing it because it’s a reminder of how her life changed when she and Dad married, and more to that extent, it’s proof that we can find the same happiness she found.
Lies.
It’s still about her. It’s always been about her.
My eyes squint in doubt at her visible concern. Smile lines circle her red lips as she steps further, her palms settling on my shoulders while the brightened expression on her face disappears.
Mom’s dark eyes slip down to my stomach.“I think you should know better than to walk the aisle bloated in front of your future husband.” She lifts her chin and squeezes me in comfort, her action opposite to the sharp words getting out of her mouth.“Sit up straight.”
The air in my lungs stops inside my throat at the acid in her voice. I catch a glimpse of her usual unnatural smile before I twist my shoulder from under my mother’s touch and turn around to face her.
She can’t just help it, can she?
It could be my last day breathing, and she’d still find a way to make it all about her. She only cares about herself and what people think about us—only because the impressions we make ultimately reflect on her reputation.
I was expecting her to make the smallest sacrifice to act like she gives a shit about me on my wedding day, but I tend to forget no one truly matters to her.
Except Cielle.
The smile I offer her is nothing but sardonic. “I need a few moments alone.”
Fuck you, is actually what I want to say—what I’ve always wanted to say.
Mom nods and stops with a hand on the doorknob, pointing at my stomach with her sharp nail. “Fix that,” she says with her eyebrows raised before she walks out of the room.
My middle finger is raised in the air when five of my sisters walk inside, all of them questioning me with their gaze.
I throw my arms next to my body. “Mom,” I explain.
“Figured,” Naveah, the oldest one of us, snorts. “What happened?”
“The usual,” I reply, my eyes sparkling over their outfits. They are all wearing light blue dresses, and I can’t decide which one of them is more beautiful.