Chapter 15
Chapter 15
I stared at the girl in the mirror, unable to recognize the perfectly painted face.
Her eyes only reflected fear. I never imagined that I would be a seventeen-year-old bride.
Your wedding day was supposed to be one of the most magical moments in a girl's life—a day filled with love and laughter, a celebration of the union of two souls, surrounded by the people who love you.
I'm not sure how my cards were so mixed up, how my fate became so cruelly entwined with his.
In moments, I would be walking down the aisle in a fairytale cathedral fit for royalty, wearing the perfect dress, forced to submit myself before God into the hands of the devil.
I gently touched the silk of my gown. My brown skin glowed against the pristine white of the dress. The high neckline gave the illusion of timeless grace, and the long sleeves were covered in detailed lace. The ballroom skirt wrapped around my waist delicately, and the dress's train, nearly fifteen feet long, flared out dramatically behind me.
The custom satin shoes were as comfortable as they were gorgeous. My usual curly hair cooperating in mockery, styled into an elegant low bun with curls framing my face.
I couldn't believe the girl in the mirror was me. I felt like a little girl, unsure and shaking inside, not ready to leave my island… my mother.
"Breathe," I whispered, grateful that Samara kicked out my bridal party to give me a few moments alone to mentally prepare myself.
I was surprised to still be awake after spending most of the night tossing and turning. I listened to the melodies of my island and Samara's snores, watched the sunrise for the last time from my bedroom window, and prayed to Our Lady for a last-minute miracle.Accepting that no one was coming to save me.
A soft knock came at the door, interrupting my thoughts.
"The ceremony is about to begin."
My mother looked somber in an all-black, her usual airy style subdued and tamed. She was dressed more suitable for a funeral than her only daughter's wedding. Despite the smile on her face, her eyes were swollen and red. She was crying again.
"Nena," she whispered, moving towards me, pulling me into her arms.
I wanted to reassure her that everything would be okay. "Forgive me," she pleaded."I should have fought harder." The desperation and agony in her words brought tears to my eyes. "I thought I could spare you from what they tried to do to me."
Mami stepped back to face me. "My father wanted me to marry a stranger, an old man when I was your age, for money." There was unspoken pain and silent secrets in her eyes."So I ran away, fell in love, and then had you, the greatest gift Our Lady had ever given me." The rest of her story left a mystery."But he ," her face twisted and soured, "would have taken you from me, Dove. He would have taken you in a way that would have killed us both," She whispered.
"I know," I confessed out loud for the first time.
" O bey your husband. Do not shame our family name," Tio Franco whispered sternly over to me as the massive golden-lined doors of the church opened, revealing a sea of faces and bodies standing all at once.
"I will never forgive you," I whispered back as he took my hand, preparing to walk me down the aisle. If he heard me, he said nothing as all eyes turned our way.
There was no more delay, running, or miracle to save me. The gentle melody of Ave Maria echoed throughout the cathedral's vaulted ceilings, directing me toward the altar.
I walked with a grace that I had seen my mother walk with. I forced a soft smile, my heart thundering painfully, determined to face this with dignity.
The lighting of the candles glimmered in magnificence, casting a warm glow under the watchful eyes of the beautifully painted angels, countless saints, and Our Lady of the Sea.
Meroveo was an unholy sight. A cascade of white flowers guided me toward the altar on a rich, vibrant red carpet.
Our eyes met. I squeezed my uncle's hand in desperation. Tio surprisingly patted me on the back with a silent understanding.
Before I knew it, my uncle was giving my hand to Meroveo, who lifted the veil from my face. His smile was triumphant, he took me in with a bold and quiet pride.
The old withered face of Father Gamaliel had turned toward us as he stood ceremoniously in grand ivory robes.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, keeping my eyes focused on the priest, pushing to the back of my mind that I was actually standing here, marrying this man… marrying a stranger… a murderer.
"Today, we gather to witness the union of Meroveo De Los Santos and Dove Corrine Solomon."
I risked a glance at Meroveo, who seemed annoyed with the priest's slow and theatrical proceedings. Father Gamaliel's face fell momentarily before he continued, clearing his throat in nervousness.
"Do you, Dove Corrine Solomon, take Meroveo De Los Santos to be your husband, to have and to hold, for richer or poorer, to obey, in sickness and health?"
Obey. I was expected to obey my husband.
My body felt frozen, petrified, unable to recite the words that would change my life forever.
After a few moments of deafening silence, Father Gamaliel looked at me, peeking from under his thick glasses and waiting for a response.
I felt the light touch of Meroveo on my finger, his eyes boring into mine. He silently dared me to say anything other than yes.
"I do." My vow came out soft but clear.
"Do you, Meroveo De Los Santos, take Dove Corrine Solomon to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health?" the priest finished.
"I do," he stated. The surge of ownership that overcame his eyes left me breathless. I wanted nothing more than to run, run down the aisle out of the church and away from all of it. To disappear into the sea.
"I now pronounce you man and wife." My heart dropped with the declaration as the church erupted in applause with celebratory whistles and loud cheers.
The noise disappeared into the background as Meroveo stepped slightly towards me. Pulling my chin up, his lips touched mine gently, and I almost wished he were rough. It wouldn't have hurt so much that he had taken my first kiss—a soft peck, tender, just enough of our lips touching.
The simmering, low look in his eyes was a lingering promise that there was more he was patiently waiting to do with me.
"You're mine forever, little Dove," he whispered in my ear as we turned to face our guests and began our walk back down the aisle as man and wife.
The sound of the old bells ringing loudly above in celebration faces blurry as I held back my tears.