A marriage…

She wore a strapless white lace gown that hugged her little waist in a tender embrace. A vintage pearl necklace decorated her porcelain cleavage: her mother’s heirloom. And besides the Louboutin heels – her only indulgence – she chose to keep the rest of her outfit simple. No statement earrings. No chunky bracelets or diamond solitaire. Just her promise ring. Her strawberry blonde hair flowed smoothly over her freckled naked shoulders and her pretty face blushed even under the layers of makeup. The smile hasn’t left her face all day. She is lovingly surrounded by her extended family and friends. Traditional music played in celebration. Sweets and refreshments were being served to guests accompanied by the random “zalghouta” from an enthusiastic neighbor or aunt. It’s her big day. She’s getting married.

He took out his black tuxedo, specially bought for this day, a crisp white shirt carefully ironed, a lemon yellow tie and a pair of cufflinks. The Berluti shoes were a gift and the smell of patina was still fresh. He practiced his best smile in the mirror, and how he’d respond to the numerous guests and their endless wishes of a long happy life with his wife-to-be. He looked at his watch and realized he’s running slightly late so he called on his brother to help him with the tie. His younger sibling sensing a bit of tension, threw in a few jokes. He chuckled at them and proceeds to check if his hair and beard look good enough for this occasion. The final touch was the cuffs. Those special cuffs, his first ones, the remnants of a love lost. Maybe he should’ve bought another pair…

The celebration was extravagant and befitted both their families’ social status, and much like most weddings in Lebanon, no expense was to be spared. His father, with his thick moustache, greeted all invitees personally at the reception. His mother, thinly veiled and adorned in her conservative dress, smiled proudly. Her parents passed by all the tables, making small talk with guests, ensuring everyone were happy. Their families and friends danced all night alongside the bride and groom, drank the not-so-cheap liquor, feasted on that delicious red velvet cake and watched in awe the celebratory fireworks. Tomorrow, everyone would wake up talking about the generosity of their hosts, the beauty of the bride and how this was “THE” wedding of the summer etc… And as common, they are also bound to pick on the finer details that would usually go unnoticed in other countries/societies.

He sat with her in the back seat of the rented limousine as the chauffeur drove them to the hotel where he will be spending his first night with his fiancee wife. She leans on his shoulder, tired. It has been a long day. He stared down at her closed eyelids. Her face screamed of innocence. He had just signed a contract agreeing to take care of her and cherish her. To make her the mother of his children. But what does this little girl know about life? At 22, she had recently graduated from university. She knew very little about the harsh world outside her cockle. She never traveled abroad, nor seen the world like he did. He married a child… But she is the chosen one, hand-picked for him. He wrapped his arm gently around her. She is his wife now. His virgin bride…

Undressing in their room, he takes off his cuffs, gazing into them…

“Nobody noticed how beautiful they are… Nobody in my family cares about pretty cufflinks”, he whispered. In his mind, she replies: “it’s ok my love, we both know they are and I’m happy you wore them today”.

He throws the cuffs in the nearby dustbin and turns to see his young bride already undressed and waiting for him, in her sexy bridal lingerie.

A new life awaits. The past is but a fading memory…

Disclaimer: All characters appearing in this short story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons or their stories, is purely coincidental. Maybe. Maybe not.


4 thoughts on “A marriage…

  1. she might be the one crying and he might be smiling for real.. there are things that we better not think or even wonder about :* sometimes we’re right, sometimes we’re wrong, and sometimes we’re clueless.
    i’d rather be clueless in your case.

    (on garde la tête haute, toujours, et pour toujours)

  2. She seems wiser than he thinks. He seems weaker than he thinks, I’d love to find out more about the cufflinks, maybe even what happens to that “marriage”…

    1. the cufflinks… they probably deserve a post on their own…

      I’m trying to write a short story where the roles are reversed, but your idea about the future of that marriage is food for thought as well.

      thanks for reading and commenting ❤

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s