Her Forbidden Heart

Her cheeks were as rosy as the deep bright expensive pink lipstick she was wearing. The same colour he always told her she looked good in; the same lips that mesmerized him when he planted his on hers. Her jewel adorned hair was as dark as the mascara that was starting to run down her cheeks. She had hopes of making him hers, on this very tragic day but now, he wasn't the man whom she was going to be standing at the altar with. Infact, this man was now deceased and never to resurface in this world. He was now lying in his freshly dug grave.

He had been shot dead in a 'freak accident' that left everyone including her confused.

She remembered his eyes, deep eyes full of passion, deep eyes revealing an unfathomable mind hidden behind those very eyes, a personality that made her fall for him in the first instance.

Her smile was as fake as her happiness while she spoke to the dress-up artist who gazed upon her with deep pity. She gazed into the gigantic, fancy mirror; her stunning green eyes penetrating the glass. What sat in front of the mirror was a girl whose heart had just been ripped apart, an unwilling bride in an expensive pink wedding dress, about to walk the aisle, wedded away to a strange and dangerous man she neither knew nor loved.

She could have run away. She could have not come for her own wedding but she remembered her mother's words...

"You know if you even dare to do it, you'll be next. You know that lover boy of yours didn't die by accident! He will end you too." The fear in her mother's voice had given her chills.

"Do you not like the colour of the dress again, Miss?" The artist who was working on her asked as she noticed the young woman was drowned, deep in thought, and with despair. She personally had designed her dress in all colours known to exist; even a red one and a black one. She had done beautiful make-up on her but now, she had ruined it. Of course, it was just a general question as she could tell her troubles were deeper than the colour of a petty wedding dress. The bride ignored the question.

The music could be heard playing in the hall, getting louder, as loud as her heart that was now thundering in her chest. This was it. If she did not do something now, her life would be ruined forever.

"Shall I go call your mother again, miss?" The artist asked as the young bride broke down into tears; vicious tears of rage and pain that she stood up and broke the giant flower vase sitting on the dresser, sending it crushing on the floor in pieces. Her arm waved off the makeup on the dresser to the floor and the makeup artist cowered in a corner as the angry bride-to-be unleashed her storms of wrath.

She ran out screaming for the mother, leaving the bride crashed on the floor in a squatting position, her floral pink dress lay spread out and wet from the water that had been spilled from the broken flower vase. The day was like a bad dream to her. The events unfolding in that very time frame were surreal to her. She wondered how such an injustice could happen in such a free country like hers. Moments later a slim and tall woman flung the door open and stopped midway with her jaw dropped.

"What have you done? You have ruined your dress, you ungrateful girl!" She scolded the bride as she made her way amongst the broken glass and pieces of flowers, lifting folds of the drenched expensive dress from the wet floor.

The bride let out loud cries as the angry woman lifted her like an inanimate object. Her face was contorted into a frown.

"Mom, please don't make me do this!" She pleaded with the middle aged woman who had birthed her. A woman who had born nothing for her except a cold heart of stone for as long as she could remember.

"Don't make you do what!?" The woman retorted. "You're an ungrateful person! After all me and your father have done for you, you refuse to make this small sacrifice?" She heaved in the bride's face.

"Hhhah!" She signed a deep sigh of resignation.

At that moment another young woman entered, almost the age of the bride. Her golden locks plummeted down the hind of her slim figure as she adjusted her bridesmaids' dress. "Mother, the service is about to begin. What's taking her so long?!" She stopped midway gazing at her sister and her face turned from happy to utter sadness.

"Sapphire! Should I remind you again what will happen if you don't marry that ruthless man?" Her mother asked.

"Why can't someone else do it? Why does it always have to be me to fix your problems." The bride cried with regret in her voice.

"Because he chose you , my child, out of the two of your sisters!" She expressed to the bride, combing her hair back in place.

"Why do I always have to suffer for the sake of other people?"

The angry mother grabbed her hand in rage and turned the bride who had been looking away, towards her. "We are not just other people! We are your family! And what will you do if I make you do this?" The woman seemed to challenge her. The hate in her eyes bore into the young bride.

"Mother, but he is old! He has children my age!" She wept. "I don't think I can survive living with him. You can as well prepare for my funeral!"

"What did you say?" The woman raged. "You,

always overdramatic and selfish. You're going to die now? When we found you a man who can take care of you for the rest of your life without you having to lift a finger? Do you know how many women would trade anything to be in your position right now?" She rolled her eyes.

"But I don't want to be taken care of, I have a life to live!" Her plea was silent this time as she had realized nothing was going to move this vain woman she called mother to help her in any shape, way or form.

"Well, when I married your father he was older than me by many years, and look at us now, happily married." She said to her, sitting her back down on the chair and kissing her forehead. The woman smothered her young daughter with her false love.

"Just remember if you don't do this, there are probably five graves dug out for each of us, your family members and you really don't want to test the wrath of that old, sly man."

She left, leaving the sisters hugging and crying together.

When the time came, it seemed her world had almost crashed. Her dream for a future had melted away right in front of her eyes, as her frame slowly drifted towards the altar, her now, new white wedding dress flowed behind her like a river of snow; the people awed marveling at the adorned woman passing to the front while the groom followed in his night black suit. Not only had he invited his relatives to witness this deed deemed shameful in the eyes of society but this wealthy influential man had also attracted a lot of media attention. Now the bride was horrified as the cameras flashed, blinding her. Now her marriage was not just a humiliation to her but to the whole country; a twenty three year old woman taken as a slave bride by the wealthy forty seven year old billionaire. Even his own children feigned happiness hiding their disgust. His own ex-wife had come to witness this marriage with her own eyes. She did not remember much of the wedding except for the 'I do's' which she had hesitantly uttered as her voice shook. She only remembered the exact moment her head was popping out the car window, her voice shouting for her parents as the decorated car drove away disappearing into the buildings of the city. She did remember when he called her a disgusting ungroomed bumpkin as a woman pulled her back into the car.

"Sedate her, we don't want her causing chaos and drawing any attention!" His voice was calm and deep as he sat next to the driver in the front.

"Okay master!" The woman next to her had answered him and the next moment, she had drawn out a syringe with a large needle from a first aid box and Sapphire remembered yanking herself away in panic as the woman grabbed her arm, and sank the needle deep into the upper joint. As the silhouettes of the street buildings passed by the window, her vision faded away with the sunset and her sadness sunk with her into a very deep sleep.