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Ch. 18: The Honor of a Man

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Sofia

Someone has dropped the weight of the world on my shoulders. My movements are fragile, my reflection an illusion that doesn't melt away no matter how long I stare.

The girl in the mirror is dressed like she walked out of an artist's imagination. She wears an expensive dress of lavender and white, the glittery material making it seem like stars are woven in her outfit. The sweetheart neckline complements the little necklace that always sits between her collarbones—a gift from a lover who called her his heart. The girl is pretty with stars woven in her hair, the length of the brunette tresses reaching her waist in pretty curls. Her eyes are magnificently done too, like a princess from a fairytale with rose blushes on her cheeks.

But the eyes are sad. The girl surely isn't alive when she feels this dead inside.

The shimmering material sticks to me like a second skin. I trace my palms up and down its smoothness, my mind trying to stop the assault of memories of that night with Gabriel.

I am not attracted to him. He is a vile man. I can never be attracted to him or love him. This marriage is a deal. A contract on paper only.

Then why did I become a mess when he touched me? Why did my body burn like it never did for anyone else?

The sharp ring of my phone dismisses my thoughts. Reading the caller ID makes my face light up.

I accept the call, my voice shaking with concern as I take a seat on the bed. "Estella, where were you? I have been calling you for days."

The soft sound of her breaths is a welcome reprieve from all the worries. I have missed her.

"I'm really sorry, Sofia," my sister says, coughing slightly. "Pregnancy has been shit to me. I keep forgetting things."

She sounds like she has a cough, a little feverish. Estella has always been a little low on immunity. Perhaps we both were considering how our father forced us to be in shape so that we would always be available for sale whenever he got into trouble. If I happened to steal a small piece of extra cake on my birthday, he would make Vincent see to it that I never ate another piece again.

"Have you talked to the doctor? What did she say?"

"She said I'm bound to have some complications." I can picture her rolling her eyes by her mocking tone. "Advised me to eat a lot."

I play with a decorative stitch on my gown, biting my lip as I hesitate to ask the most important question.

"How has Dad been?" I question after a few seconds. "Does he doubt anything?"

"No, but he hasn't stopped being rude to me after the whole incident. Keeps saying I'm an embarrassment for ruining my reputation. Praised you a lot."

"That's a first," I scoff, knowing that our Dad loves to pretend.

"Vincent has been mad at Dad for giving you away," she informs. "Sounds like he's pissed he has lost his favorite toy."

At the mention of Vincent, cold dread fills me, making me dig my fingers in the mattress as a flood of phantom pains ignite throughout my skin.

People would think having an older brother would mean I grew up in a protective environment. Not for me. My brother was my biggest torment. The worst thing that ever happened to me.

"Don't even say," I mutter, the fear in my voice clear. "Is he coming to the party tonight?"

"Mierda!" Estella curses. "I completely forgot it's your engagement tonight. Are you ready?"

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