To my surprise, the man my parents had chosen for me was the epitome of kindness and respect.
But just as the vows were about to be exchanged, chaos erupted.
The church doors burst open, and there stood Lewis, disheveled and desperate. “You’re supposed to get engaged with me, Graciela. Not this man!”
“No way, Lewis,” I said firmly, my voice echoing with conviction. “You’re too late.”
***
“Your call could not be connected.”
I did not know how many times I heard that cold response as I called Lewis repeatedly, my anxiety growing with each failed attempt.
Dressed in an ivory evening gown, I sat at a table adorned with roses, lit by the flickering glow of candlelight.
That was supposed to be the engagement day I had dreamed of since Lewis promised to make me his fiancée.
With that promise, I thought I could finally escape the trap of a business-arranged marriage that my family had been pressuring me into.
Lewis was my salvation, or so I believed.
I had loved him since I was 13, when my brother took him home.
I loved his sweet smile, his handsome face, and his silly attitude which made me so happy when he finally accepted me and vowed to be my future partner.