our troubled love ᵒˡᵈ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ

+~fifteen~+

"Why are you sad, honey?"

"Because, when I grow up, I want to marry a prince, and I want true love, and happily ever after. But my teacher said that only happens in fairy tales."

"Oh baby, of course you can marry a prince, and have true love, and happily ever after."

"How?"

"Well, people say that true love doesn't exist, but that's because it's very hard to find. But once you find it, it's magical, just like in those fairy tales. When you truly love someone, even if they're a poor villager, they will always be royalty in your eyes. And whether you end up with them or not, you can have a happily ever after."

"Mommy, is Daddy a prince in your eyes?"

"He's my king, dear. And I'm happy to be raising a beautiful little princess like you by his side."

"Someday, I want to find a king and have a little prince or princess too."

"And you will. It will be a difficult journey, my little princess, but you're strong. You'll get your happily ever after."

Years later, on my wedding day, my mother was gone, and so was all the hope she gave me. Soon, I would be walking down the aisle to marry a man who is not my prince charming.
I didn't know if it was the heavy dress or the pressure I felt that was weighing my shoulders down as I waited for my cue. A part of me wanted time to go faster, to get this over with. Another part of me wanted time to stop so I could get out of this mess.

It felt like I'd waited too long yet not enough when my dad was at my side, ready to walk me down the aisle.

In the split second before we went on, he looked at me, pain and regret in his glassy green eyes.

His head drooped miserably as we walked. I hadn't seen my dad this way in years. But I stopped paying attention to him when I saw Anthony waiting at the altar, all dressed up in a black suit with his dark brown hair slicked back.

He looks good. He is good. This is good. I love him, and if I don't love him the way I'm supposed to, I will learn to. This is good.

Maybe I was only lying to myself in attempts to stop the fear that started in my stomach, rising up to my throat and blocking air from reaching my lungs. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think, I couldn't speak, and I could barely even move. I didn't know whether I should run away or stay and face what was to happen.

My dad grasped my hand tightly before I went up to the altar, holding me back for a second. He looked into my eyes with flames in his, as if he was keeping a much bigger fire inside. Why does he seem so off today? Isn't this what he wanted?

And then he let go, and I tood face to face with the man who I'd be married to in a just a few minutes. Looking at his face, reminding myself that I'd be spending my life with him, made me sick. It's okay. You're okay.

The next few minutes went by like seconds, and the words said were incomprehensible, as I was too lost in my thoughts to understand them. It's happening. This is happening.

"Do you, Jianna Bates," the officiant said. "Take Anthony Breslin to be your husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do you part."

I stood there, silent, heart in my throat for an uncomfortably long time. I told myself to say "I do," but I couldn't get it past my lips. I wanted more time before I had to become Anthony's wife, and each second that I wasn't answering was one more second I didn't have to be married to him.