The weight of yes.
They say that being a daughter is a gift. A blessing. A crown of honor.
But no one talks about the weight that crown bears. No one talks about how heavy it is to be an only child, to be a female, to be molded before you ever get a chance to stretch into who you really are.
Since I was old enough to utter words, I've been taught to say yes.
Yes to the rules.
Yes to the dresses.
Yes to the schools.
Yes to the men I must impress.
Yes, when all I wanted to say was no.
To have no control over any part of my life. My schedule, my friends, what I eat. It's suffocating, but all I could say was… yes.
It's funny. Standing here, behind these double oak doors, in a gown that sparkles like something out of a fairytale, I should feel lucky, I should feel proud… I should feel happy.
But all I feel is hollow. Like I am watching someone else's life unfold and I'm just a guest.
The people of the other side of this door thinks they're about to witness the happiness moment of my life.
A vow.
A union.
A future.
What they don't know that this isn't a wedding. Not to me at least. It is a performance. A final act, and I am the lead actress in a play I never auditioned for. Because saying no in my family means defiance, betrayal, it means selfishness.
And if there is one thing a good daughter is never is… it's been selfish.
So I breathe in, put on a fake smile and tuck my feelings away.
I can feel the weight of the veil on my head. I can feel the bouquet trembling in my hands, not from wedding nerves… from dread. Because somewhere deep inside me, is a voice. Small, quiet, but firm.
"You don't want this-"
A hand lands gently on my shoulder. I flinch.
"Alina," my father says, full of pride. "Are you ready?"
And just like that, I'm knocked out of my thoughts and back in reality. I am not a girl suffocating under the weight of her duty.
I'm a bride. A product.
And I am expected to say that word. The word I've been trained to utter like an obedient dog.
"Yes."
The grand doors open and the once muffled music, now loud and clear. My father extends his hand, standing tall with a small smile on his face. My throat bobbed as I took it and began walking.
I am thankful for the veil on my head, it blocks out my facial features and I don't have to lie to the world. The guest stood at either sides of me, all with smiles and happy faces, not of which I recognize just fake friends and business partners of my parents.
Then finally I gazed before me and my movements stalled. Father gazed at me momentarily before returning to smile at the camera.
I could feel my heart hammering against my ribcage, my hands started shaking that I thought the flowers will fall off. As soon as I was in reach, one of my bridesmaid took the flowers off my hands. A couple of women who were hired to take that role today.
My father hugged me and kissed my forehead before giving me to my husband to be. "Behave." he whispered in my ears before letting go.
Harris Dale… one of my dad's business partners. It was a month ago when my father announced my wedding date has been set. He didn't even ask for my opinion, for my consent.
Before now I've only met him once, which was at a formal dinner so as to introduce ourselves. He seemed nice, a little older but handsome enough. He comported himself with grace and sophistication.
I tried convincing myself it was for the best, my father only has my best interests at heart right?
That night, I accidentally saw a text message on his phone.
'Kill them.' he sent.
'Already done sir.'
Ever since then, I had this feeling in the pit of my stomach. I brought it up with my father but he got angry at me for evading his privacy.
Is there any way that could have meant something else?
Once again I was brought out of my thoughts when he reached down to remove the veil. For some reason I felt vulnerable to him, like that veil was the only bit of protection from him. He touched my cheek, the feeling was cold but I couldn't let myself react.
He smiled sweetly at him but I couldn't return the favor. I spotted my parents in the crowd with a stern look and managed to curl corner of my lips slightly.
The music faded into silence and the officiant began to speak.
"Dearly beloved, we are all gathered here today to witness and celebrate the union of two souls in holy matrimony…"
As his voice echoed through the grand hall, everyone was attentive, waiting, smiling…
Except me.
This is really happening.
I'm really standing here in front of all these people, about to promise forever to a complete stranger. Someone I don't love. Someone whose favorite color I don't even know.
This wasn't mine. Even the vows were pre-written. Nothing in this moment belonged to me.
Not my groom. Not my dress. Not even my life.
"...to love and to cherish, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health…"
Then came the part I had dreaded.
The officiant turned to him. "Do you, Harris Dale, take Alina Grace Etienne, to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward?"
"I do." He didn't even hesitate.
A proud nod from my mother.
Then the officiant turned to me.
"And do you, Alina Grace Etienne, take Harris Dale, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward?"
Silence.
Harris was watching me, his brows were furrowed in confusion. I turned my head, my mother's eyes were sharp. Warning me.
My father clenched his jaw, daring me to try something.
The officiant repeated himself. "Alina… do you take Harris Dale to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
I opened my mouth but nothing came out.
The crowd stared at me impatiently. Even the paparazzi were so focused on my answer they didn't take pictures of this embarrassing moment.
"Alina…" Harris called my name. The look in his eyes made a chill run down my back. It wasn't that soft look he has been giving me all this time, it was icy cold and void of emotion.
I swallowed and took in one shaky breath.
"I… I…"