The Proposal

You could say the room span; but it didn't. Nor was she surprised. She wasn't really anything. Her vision was perfectly clear, Caledon Hockley was stood before her – a gold and diamond ring encased in a small black velvet box. It looked like a large piece of ice.

She sensed she should speak for it had been several seconds since he had asked that fateful question: ''Will you marry me?''

She had processed it over. She had partly expected it for they had been courting for over two months since just before her seventeenth birthday. Her Mother had planned the entire charade in her head.

She found herself squinting for a second to examine his face. Yes, he was handsome but not breathtakingly so. She had not once found the urge to kiss him. His eyes were dark; almost black, the same as his hair. Would that be the dominating gene in their children?

She felt the eyes of so many people on her. Around a hundred members of so-called society who had gathered for a 'show stopping' party at the Hockley's. She turned to meet eyes with the Major, the son of Cal's rival steel owner company chairman, a distant Aunt who's name she never quite remembered and then her own Mother's. Those eyes of ice urged her with a single glance, piercing Rose to through and chilling her bone. It was an urge to accept. For her sake. Those eyes which she had inherited. The ones which still instilled fear in her even now.

She shivered. There was no breeze. Just silence. She turned to Cal. It must have been close to thirty seconds now she had not spoken.

The moment should have been beautiful, magical. She had no urge to jump into his arms, she wasn't fighting off tears, and her heart hadn't swollen with unwavering love. She glanced at the ring again. She found herself reaching her left hand to touch it. She didn't shake with nerves. He held it out to her waiting for her to accept it, to agree to be his wife. She would wear it day in day out with a promise chained to it – forever. Forever with a man she barely knew.

Why didn't dread fill her? She simply felt empty. She knew what the answer would be and had to be. There was no other option.

''Yes.''

Then the room filled with gasps, a loud applause and then she felt as though she had gone deaf. In silent slow motion, the ring was placed on her finger. It felt as though she was carrying a boulder. It sparkled in the bright light of the magnificent chandeliered room.

It was as though she had been handcuffed but she held no fight against it. The life within her slowly drained its final part and the embers burned slowly.

He kissed her cheek. She didn't close her eyes to saviour the moment of closeness between herself and her fiancé. Her eyes glazed and seconds later, her own Mother touched her face. A small token of appreciation for saving their family name.

A magnesium flash followed; the moment which would be captured on the front of the Philadelphia papers tomorrow followed by a spread in the New York Times where Nathan Hockley, Cal's father, was based.

Throngs of people approached her, to congratulate and embrace and to wish her well in her married life. She was separated from her Mother immediately. Cal shook hands with men; women kissed his cheek and offered congratulations. Face after face came to her, shook her hand and offered advice and well wishes. She nodded, smiled and held out her hand to show the ring as though she had rehearsed it for some years. She found herself glancing at the door, she needed air. A crowd surrounded her; she couldn't even see her Mother any longer as she dissolved into the society of Philadelphia.

She was suffocated and smothered. Slowly, she lost the life within her. She felt drained and lethargic. She would remain that way for a long time.