Life was strange. It felt like just yesterday Malia was looking through her parents old wedding photos and now she was the one about to get married. Standing in front of the mirror in the little side room of the church, she looked once again at her reflection. She was wearing a short length wedding dress that hugged her torso and flared out from her waist, stopping just above her knees, her short brown hair pinned on one side and ballerina flats on her feet. Malia didn't recognize herself, it felt as if it was someone else standing there.
It had been just a month before when her father told her that she was going to be married. She remembers screaming that it wasn't fair, that she didn't even knew who her husband was going to be and that she had no intention of making things easy for them. She knew she didn't have a say in it, but she was going to make her voice heard even if no one would listen.
The month passed by in a whirlwind. Malia didn't have a say in any of the decisions regarding her wedding: she wanted a private ceremony, it was decided it would be a massive event; she wanted white roses for her bouquet, just like her mother, instead she got lilies. Not even her wedding dress was the one she wanted. She wanted something classic and subtle, with a long skirt, what she got was a short dress. The only thing she got a say in was her shoes. If she was going to have to wear a dress she didn't want, then she was wearing ballerina flats. Not that she could wear heels anyway.
Malia was still standing in front of the mirror when someone came in the room.
- "Well, don't you look beautiful?" ā Her father said, walking closer to her, a tender smile on his face.
- "Do I have to do this?" ā Malia asked, for what felt like the millionth time since it all began.
- "I know this is not what you want honey, but I promise everything is going to be alright."
- "You don't know that dad. No one does. How can you say everything will be alright when I don't even know who my husband is going to be?"
- "Malia, listen to me. Why do you think I waited this long to marry you? It wasn't because I thought you weren't ready, no matter how many times your stepmother told me otherwise, or that there wasn't a suitable husband for you. I wanted to be sure that the man you would marry would be right for you. And, honey, this is it. He's the right one for you. Just trust me." ā Her father pleaded with her.
- "Still, dad. How can you be sure? As far as you know, he can be a wife-beater and you wouldn't even know it."
- "What I do know is that he's not like the rest of the men his age, he's⦠different. You'll see."
And with that her father kissed her forehead before getting interrupted by a knock on the door telling them it was time. Malia wanted to run away, run until her legs gave out. But she knew she couldn't, her family's reputation depended on her going through with this marriage.
Malia was shaking when her father offered his arm to her. She gave him one last pleading look, hoping he would change his mind, only to be met with one of encouragement. This was it. No turning back now.
