The bouquet slid out of my hands and I tugged the woman's thumb off my cheeks.
She couldn't be presuming me to be Elizabeth. How was that even possible?
An ophthalmologist would be handy to rescue this woman from her pessimistic sight.
"Ma'am, I'm not Elizabeth. You are mistaking me for someone else. "
I braced my hands over my chest and frowned bitterly at her expired cognitive memory.
I didn't want to seem rude, but she insisted on her stupid grievances.
"You heard me right."
The woman gaped at me, such that she forgot to close her leaking mouth.
Still, under the healthy effect of my words, she stroked a heap of wrinkles that knotted her forehead.
Yet to be convinced, she breathed out a fog of air and held my hand hostage.
"Let me be, or I'm calling the cops."
"You won't dare do such a thing to your Granny."
She trapped my eyes in hers and squeezed my palms.
Silence preceded her falling words, raising a sprint in my chest; how fast my heart raced?
That slow my brain counted.
"Listen, Lisa, listen attentively."
Her grip on my hand stiffened, and goosebumps invaded my skin while tears ran down her cheeks.
"Please, don't do this to us. Getting married at eighteen while in college is difficult, I know, but you have to understand something," she blinked a squad of tears out of her frayed sight.
"This wedding was arranged for your good and your happiness. We want you to have the best education we couldn't offer and the rich lifestyle you have always dreamt of."
Her declaration of pain spelled itself on her words, as she sobbed some more.
Whatever caused her pain also weighed on her lips and ruined her classic lipstick.
Her eyeshadow and blush flooded her cheeks; her words carried meaning.
Yes, she meant every word but no matter how long she cried; none of her tears would be a spell to revamp me into her granddaughter.
So sad, she could only cry and I could only stare; repeating the blonde edges of the truth, the truth which she didn't want to hear.
"Ma'am, I'm Ellis, not Lisa. Lisa ran away a few minutes ago in her bridal gown. She dropped her bouquet and veil before fleeing in a cab. I'm sorry about that, but there is nothing I can do."
She stopped sobbing, examined my face, and smiled.
What a nightmare!
I shouldn't have been in such a situation if not for Megan and her silliness.
I stole a glance at her ocean blue spaghetti strap gown, which brushed over her grey stilettos heels.
YOU ARE READING
A Perfect Stitch
RomanceKidnapped, towed to a church, and wedded to a stranger; Ellis, an eighteen-year-old high school graduate has to find her lost voice and decide between hot-billionaire romance or complete freedom before it's too late to escape the unexpected. ...
