Mafia Arranged Marriage

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Aiyana Valentino

I woke up with an aching head and stiff muscles. I take notice to the position I'm sprawled out on the floor, my body twisted awkwardly to press as much as possible of my frame to the gentle heat of fire.

My head feels like it's constantly spinning in circles, I guess the consequences of not have eaten in a day and a half or so. I haven't really had the luxury to stuff my stomach with food the previous day.

I wince at the seams of my dress, which I still wore under Amren's jacket and the blanket. They dig at my skin in twitching pins against the flesh causing me to hiss.

My makeup has been sitting on my skin from yesterday morning, I bet most of my mascara and liner are smudged messily under my eyes. So, taking that into account, I run my palms through my eyes, not caring that I was probably dragging the makeup further.

I take a look to the source of heat, taking a look at the pit that once shone brightly with blazing fire, only to greet the shallowly aftermath. The ashes left behind. I can't help but think maybe that'll happen to me too.

After all the fire burns out, what happens?
Am I bound to be wept into ashes too? The shelly remains for what I was? For where I once boldly stood?

I realize it's way too early to wander into this type of forbidden hazardous territory, at least on an empty stomach, that is.

I notice the previously occupied spot next to me, no longer is, and hear random shuffling of what I concluded was the kitchen.

Stretching, I get up and make my way towards the sound of clattering pots and plates, only to be met with my husband by the stove cooking like a Michelin star winning chef.

To say I was surprised, would be an understatement. I had no idea that he could cook. I thought all he got to know was processed food with plastic containers, but again, I didn't know anything about him. I shouldn't be surprised.

As if having eyes at the back of his head, he turns around and takes me in. I frown, I know I didn't look at my best early in the morning, but could you at least grant me the courtesy of not staring at me.

I say nothing as I take a seat at the table, looking blankly at the distance, avoiding eye contact at all costs. Don't poke the monster.

From my peripheral vision, I can see his jaw clenching and I proceed to plate myself food without a word said.

He scratches the chair backwards, its legs whizzing against the floors in an annoying sound, seemingly deliberate to bring me misery.

I decide not to comment anything despite the agitation I felt and the screeching that did nothing but add to my splitting headache.

We eat in silence, each downing food hungrily, and basically ignore the other's entire existence. Cool.

The pettiness stretched on during breakfast, the atmosphere laced with hidden eons floating in the air waiting for a moment to ignite and then boom.

After finishing eating, I make my way to the couch laid in the middle of the living room. I sit there limply, placing my head backwards on the edge of the headrest, my fingers massaging my throbbing temples, in hopes of decreasing the pain.

My calm session is cut short by the door slamming shut and an annoyed bulky presence dominates the confines of the room.

This time, I notice the bags he held in his hand by his side. Without further warning, he throws them in my way "These are some clothing and necessities" He says with indifference bestowing his sharp features and turns around then leaves.

I wanted nothing more than to chase after him, scream at his stupid face, moreover, maybe to tackle him to the ground, knocking his stupid head out.

I let out a groan in frustration, it's only been a day, and make my way the the small bathroom in order to change from my dirty clothes, with one thought standing out like a sour thumb in my head: ughh, I hate him!

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A/n:

Genuinely asking, when you're mad at someone, do you confront them or give them the cold shoulder?

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