I'll Take You Away From Him

Chapter 6

I'm sitting and staring at the package, having already understood what it is. The sender's address is a well-known bridal salon. Mom has even taken away the opportunity for me to choose the dress in which I'll stand at the altar, burying my future forever.

It looks exactly like that — not as a perspective she keeps droning on about, but as the collapse of all my hopes.

In the end, I push the box aside and go to my room. No appetite, no mood, nothing. I only regret not asking Will to wait for me. I would have picked up the package and gone with him. And now I would be happy, spending time with a man I like, instead of torturing myself with thoughts.

Instead, I ran away, fearing he would kiss me again and some neighbor would see this and tell my mother about it.

Why is she treating me this way?

I don’t dare to call or text Will first. I lie down on my bed and stare at my phone. I only spoke a little with Yasmin, complaining about how mom managed to ruin my first date.

My best friend supported me, helping to lead my thoughts in the right direction. If he didn’t ditch me after that, it means I really did appeal to him. Plus, it’s a test of the seriousness of Will’s intentions.

After talking to my friend, my mood improved for a while. I even went out to have dinner and then sat down to study. I enjoy studying; I like the classes I chose, so I do it with pleasure, and time passes quickly.

Mom comes in when I'm already getting ready to take a shower and go to bed. This time, she entered my room immediately without changing her clothes. And she looks clearly displeased.

“Where’s your motorcycle?” she asks from the doorway.

“By the university,” I replied without hesitation. “I was feeling unwell, so I took a cub.”

For a few moments, mom is silent, scanning me with a careful gaze, as if a lie detector is working inside her. But I’m absolutely calm, so it’s unlikely she will suspect anything.

“Did you try on the dress?”

“No.”

“Why?” she asked with evident irritation.

“Because I didn’t choose it and I’m not going to wear it.”

“Aurelia!” she shouts, boiling over. “What kind of ungrateful child are you? I’m trying for you, and all you do is stress me out!”

“Then stop trying! Did you ask me if I need it? And I’ll tell you right now: I don’t need it! I don’t give a damn about your or Christopher’s money, or even about him at all! I don’t want it! I won’t marry him!”

I look at her straight, burning with fury, but ultimately I can’t stand my own gaze and look away, feeling angry tears welling up.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” my mother hisses, then leaves, slamming the door.

We’ll talk, perhaps, but nothing will change.

But the next day, we kept silent. Mom comes back late, when I’m already asleep. Or rather pretending to sleep, hiding my phone under the blanket and texting William.

He wrote to me, as promised, and the flirting that makes me feel like wings are growing behind my back continues. I can’t wait for the weekend to meet up.

But by Murphy's Law, the time until the weekend drags on endlessly. I await the evenings with feverish impatience, knowing that Will will text me. He messages me every night. Sometimes it’s brief, just a few messages and very late. But I don’t sleep; I wait. One time we chatted for almost an hour before Will fell silent, having fallen asleep, which he later apologized for.

Either he sleeps soundly, or he tires himself a lot. I think it’s the latter. Dad was the same; he’d come home tired, and as soon as he lay down, he would fall asleep immediately. Now mom is buried in her office work and even works on weekends, even from home.

I don’t want such a future. To live for work? When would I have time for myself then? What’s the point of that money if there’s never any time to spend it?

On Friday, I’m in a good mood. Tomorrow, I will finally have a date, as Will said he would text me after lunch to let me know at what time we’d meet. He offered to pick me up, but I declined, citing that I might not be home. And that really is a good option. I’ll stroll somewhere and then head to the date from there.

For now, to kill time that evening, I’m going through my wardrobe, thinking about what to wear to look stunning. The bike is definitely staying home, so my choice falls on a dress. But which one…

“Tomorrow at six in the evening, Christopher is coming for dinner; dress nicely. And behave yourself.”

I turn at the sound of the voice to see my mother at the doorway. Giving her an indifferent glance, I turn back to the closet.

“I’m not going. I told you I have a party planned with my classmates.”

Which was supposed to be a perfect cover to spend time with William.

“And I told you no parties! Are you mocking me?” mom nearly growls.

“Why would I mock you? I’m not marrying him, so why should I sit at the same table with some stranger and entertain him?”

Mom's face changes. Instead of helpless anger, a cold, hard expression emerges.

“You will sit. Like a nice girl. No?” she reacts to my silent outrage. “Well, in that case, I’ll first sell your motorcycle, then block your card, and the next step will be to stop paying for your education. Does that option suit you? Because that’s how it will be, and not because I’m heartless, but because there are no more unlimited accounts.”

Slamming the door behind her, she leaves, and I collapse onto my bed. So what should I do? Maybe try to talk to Christopher? What if I manage to persuade him?

Or… another idea is brewing. If I continue to resist, we’ll truly be left with nothing. I don’t care about anything except my studies, but mom is suffering too much over all this.

I just need to buy some time, and maybe a solution will present itself. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.