Mr. Darlington's Ex Wife

Chapter 3

Amara Nicholas;

We got into my bedroom, which was very large, and my mother accompanied me to pack some of my things. She didn't want me to carry all my belongings, reminding me that the Briggs family was wealthy and I didn't need to stress about arranging and packing everything I owned.

We finished packing all the boxes around 1 a.m., and my mother was exhausted. She stretched, yawned, and told me, "I have to go back to my room to meet your father. Good night, my princess."

"Okay, Mom, but I'm still not happy about this marriage. Can't you speak to my father about it again?" I asked, looking at her with my blue, shining eyes, glimmering with hope that she might agree.

"No, Amara. I want you to marry and give me a grandchild. I can't speak to your father about this again. Don't worry, when you get to the city, I will call you from time to time to see how you're doing," my mother told me, and hot tears streamed freely from my eyes.

I don't know why I wasn't happy about getting married and going to the city. It has always been my dream to marry a handsome, good man, but I was scared, and anxiety ran through my veins.

I asked my mother, "Mom, what if the man does not like me? I don't know him, and I haven't seen him before. If he truly wants me, he should have been here since I was already married to him before I even became aware of it."

"Hmm, he will love you once he sets his eyes on you. I don't know if his father has told him, but this was an agreement between your father and his father. You should be a good wife to him and not discard your home training. I know the first year of marriage isn't easy, as you adjust to your new home and your husband's way of life. As you know, he grew up in the city and not here with us. But I am certain that he will love you very much, so don't be negative about anything and always have a positive mindset," my mother assured me, but I stubbornly disagreed.

I asked her, "Mom, what if he already has a woman in his life? I know all these city men are equivalent to nymphs. I was there, and the way they gawked at me was as if they wanted to eat me raw. I don't like the idea of going to the city. I want a man from here," I protested again.

"This is unlike you, my princess. Don't worry, I doubt he would be in any relationship that he'd desire, as his father would have told him about you. He's your husband, and you shouldn't worry much. Now come, go to bed, and get a good sleep. You have a long way to travel tomorrow," my mother told me as she approached me again and escorted me to the bed in my room.

I went to relieve myself again in my restroom. I stepped out of my bathroom and thought my mother had returned to her room, but she was still there, standing and waiting for me to lie on the bed like I was her baby.

My mother carefully used the bedcover to tuck me in while I slowly drifted to sleep, knowing I would miss the warm comfort of my parents' home. The next day, I would be going to the house of a man I hadn't met before, about whom I knew nothing. I wondered if he would accept me or throw me out and remind me that he never came to my family's house to marry me.

All these thoughts lingered in my mind. However, I had a dream, and in my dream, I saw a man, a tall man. I couldn't see his face, but he was tall and attractive, and he stared at me with curiosity. He looked familiar to me, like I had seen him before.

He approached me and pulled me into an embrace, and as I tried to look at his face, I still couldn't see it to know if he was my husband, the new man I was going to live with. I woke up and saw my mother in my room.

"Amara, are you still in bed? Get up; it's almost 6 a.m." My mother walked up to the window, pulled the curtains open, and I yawned and stretched as I sat up carefully on the bed.

I got out of bed and greeted her, "Good morning, Mom."

"Good morning, my sweet pie. Go and take your bath quickly. The driver will soon be here. Let me go and prepare your breakfast," my mother told me as she quickly exited my bedroom, not giving me a chance to protest again.

I sighed and went into my bathroom for a quick, refreshing bath. I got out and stepped back into my room, only to find that my two big boxes of clothes were already gone, and I saw a yellow dress on the bed that my mother had chosen for me to wear.

I wasn't good at fashion, and my mother prioritized choosing a yellow dress. She was so good at fashion that heads turned to stare at her a second time. I think that was how my mother had won my father's heart, with her high fashion style and formidable looks. But me... I was too local to be considered fashionable.

I am cute anyway, so why must I dress hot to entice a man? I prefer wearing baggy dresses to hide all my curves and shapes. In short, when I go to the market to select a dress, I would buy one.

After schooling in the city, I hated any man gawking at me, so I made it a priority to buy loose-fitting dresses that were my height, but too big to show any curves or hint at my figure.

I don't find pleasure in looking cute. I remember one of my roommates telling me that if I wore a seductive dress, I could get the president's son to fall in love with me and be the perfect seductress.

But no, I want to look decent and not too flashy. I don't like drawing attention, as it makes me feel vulnerable, like I would be kidnapped soon by one of those predatory men whose eyes seemed to monitor my every move.

I sighed as I dried my wet body. I rubbed my orange cream on my skin and then picked up the yellow dress and wore it. My mother was finally back in my bedroom again.