Eight Years Later
A young woman sat upon her bed, twisting the band on her finger, lost in thought, resisting the urge to pull it off and fling it out the window closest to where she sat.
To her father and to her country, this band was a sign of peace and unity, but to her it was a brand of oppression and a reminder she had no control over the events in her life.
Her heart ached. This was not how it was supposed to be. But she had to suffer in silence, for her cries and pleas would fall upon deaf ears, hardened hearts, and unchangeable minds. The man she loved would never love her back. Now she had to try and love another.
She looked longingly out the window of her room, but was removed from her reverie when there was a loud sharp knock on her door.
"M' lady it's time".
Sighing she got up and blindly walked to the door and opened it to follow the maid down the hall.