Sorry, people, I did not intend to keep you waiting for so long…. But here it is…. It's summer, anyway here in the Philippines… Finally, got a break from all the excruciating rituals of school…

I was never a school person… and I'd like Cagalli here to be my complete opposite… so it wouldn't be too obvious that she's a rebel…

Well, gomenasai once again… and please comment on this new chapter…

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A Little Push to Marriage

She grumbled out loud for the nth time. The pesky seamstresses had taken the measure of her waist for almost fifteen times now.

It was a very sullen Wednesday afternoon for her, and it was just a cool October fourteenth. Just a week before the unplanned wedding, well, unfortunately, it had been planned, but just beyond her knowledge.

Which was a weird thing! She was the bride! She should've known earlier, and she wasn't the very drippy type, but the guy should've proposed first! What do you think? She was a doll? A marionette? A mannequin?

Unfortunately, your father thinks you are, Yula-chan. She thought bitterly. If only that Ulen Hibiki wasn't her father, she would've killed him herself. She doesn't like manipulators, for goodness' sake! She was a girl, she wasn't supposed to be manipulated.

"Shelly, it's still 23 and one-half!" a certain Margaret called out.

"Let's measure it again… we might be mistaken. 23 and one-half is too tiny!" Shelly replied.

She grunted as the measuring tape found its way around her petite waist. Where was her goddamned fiancé? Where was he and how dare he leave her there in hell with those old-time seamstresses that are too obsessed with her waist?

She's going to kill him. For sure. And if Athrun Zala is dead even before the wedding, the wedding won't push through, and her freedom would be restored!

Freedom my face. I may be free from marrying that nut, but the doctors from the psychiatric ward will be on my heels. She contradicted her own thought, giving herself some space to breathe from all those stress behind her.

Yet the moment she had relieved herself from the stress and depression that the idea of staying in a psychiatric ward for three whole years caused her, the new stress and depression that the idea of marrying some hot and sexy yet quite serious man and not her long-time love and heart, got in her.

I swear, I'm going to kill you, Athrun Zala…

"Still the same result! What're we to do, Samantha?"

"I think you should record whatever you see as her measurement, and get on with it. Cagalli is already tired, and I have to take her home early."

Cagalli looked up to where the soft baritone came from. Of course, who else, but her very cute and handsome fiancé of nineteen years old!

"Great. You came. I thought you would never." She snapped.

"Why shouldn't I? Your father called me in charge. And I need to bring you home. It's nearly eight." Athrun said.

She hissed softly. "I thought you'd rather chat up with that Aisha."

"Jealous, jealous, aren't we, Cagalli?" Athrun smirked.

"Yuck." She retorted.

Athrun shrugged, and he grew tired of teasing her. "Okay, then, thank you, madams, for coping up with Cagalli."

The seamstresses nodded briefly.

"Your pay would be with Mrs. Laiden. So… thank you, madams, again."

"You're welcome, Mr. Zala."

"Great. Now we could go home." Cagalli walked out of the room, but his hand grabbed her arm, and she turned around to slap her, only he looked at her with much intensity that she could not.

"Say 'thank you', Cagalli." He said softly.

"Why should I?" She retorted, wide-eyed.

"They spent much of their time on you, measuring your figure for your wedding dress."

She scoffed. "And I spent time for them, too."

"I know. So say your 'thanks' before we go."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Cagalli."

"NO!"

"Just now."

"Never."

"Cagalli, please."

She looked at the five old women standing in front of her.

"Thank you. Now I said it. I'll wait for you in the car." She walked away, so fast, that Athrun can't take a hold on her.

He scratched her head and looked at the seamstresses. "I'm sorry that happened…"

"No, it's fine."

"She should have given you a better thanksgiving."

"No, that's really okay." A woman named Jo said.

"You're going to have a very beautiful wife, Mr. Zala." Shelly said in awe.

Margaret nodded. "Look, Mr. Zala, she's just in her budding phase, but believe me, she'll become a very beautiful rose when she grows up and matures. She's only how many years old?"

"Fifteen."

"She still has much time."

Athrun smiled. "So… goodbye, I really should be going. Thank you again madams."

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She grumbled out as she sank deeper in the fragrant-smelling bath. The day was too hectic, and she couldn't believe that the devilish fiancé of hers made her say 'thank you' to a bunch of incompetent seamstresses.

It was unethical for her, look, she grew up a prideful woman and she never said 'thank you' ever since her mother died when she was twelve. That was three years ago. And for those past three years she never learned to say 'thank you', and never even attempted.

The drive home from that hellish place was a quiet one, with only his small yet soft voice filling the air, and it broke the silence several times and saved her ears from the destructive call of silence.

Yet she enjoyed that voice, and she kept quiet just to hear that voice repeating over and over her head.

"And I hate him." She reminded herself.

Sighing, she rinsed herself and stepped out of the bathtub.

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"What's your favorite color?"

She looked at him incredulously and spat, "What?"

Athrun had asked her out to dinner that night, and he picked her after school. They were in Annabel, the first diner they ever dined out to. Apparently, he had reserved the place for just the both of them that night, well, he was pretty rich.

The conversation stayed mostly on how school was, their favorite subjects, and how they hate math teachers. Seems like Athrun can relate well, he had said that he gave up his studies for priesthood, and unfortunately, he was kicked-out.

"I said, what is your favorite color?" Athrun repeated gently. He had this sexy yet gentle voice that she was beginning to like.

Absentminded because of his voice's impact on her being, she said, "Uh… green."

"Green?"

Snapping out of her absentmindedness, she panicked to relieve her blunder. "I meant 'gold'."

"You can't deny it anymore, Cagalli. You said 'green'."

"I want gold."

"Green and gold, then. Your father told me that you should take charge of the color of your wedding gown." Athrun said. "so you said 'green' and 'gold', so, let's talk to Aisha about the color of the bridesmaid's gowns."

"Can't they just wear white?"

"The theme of the wedding is green and gold already."

"Decide for yourself, dummy!" she cried out in his face as she shoved a spoonful of mashed potatoes in her mouth.

He smirked subtly. She's so cute when she's angry! Only she is like a younger sister to me… How does she treat me, though?

"What am I to you, Cagalli Yula Athha?" he asked.

"What?" she gulped down her mashed potatoes. "What?"

"What am I to you?" he patiently repeated.

"Why do you ask?"

"Well… just to see if you view me as someone else." He shrugged. "Because I treat you as a younger sibling."

"You are my dummy for a fiancé, an idiot seminarian who doesn't know how to have fun." She admitted snappily.

He laughed.

"What?!" she snapped, not used to being laughed upon.

"You're so cute."

"Whatever." She sipped her iced tea.

He looked at her for a moment, thinking that if she was to be her younger sister, he'd be accused and be burned in hell for incest at the moment.

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See? The title has nothing to with the title. How foolish of me. Well, hope you enjoyed the story. Please review!!! ^~^