The Consolation Prize

Chapter Three

She walked towards where her parents were, leaving Nathaniel behind. They both had distraught expressions on their faces but when she arrived, they immediately masked it with identical fake smiles. She wasn’t too shallow to see the worried look on their faces.

“We should carry on with the wedding,” her mother said. She held a firm tone, a hard look etched on her features. “This will be a shame in Oliver’s part.” What about her part? She wanted to ask her mother. She waited for what her father would say. She munched the food on her plate slowly, the air around the three of them heavily tensioned.

Nathaniel’s words rang back to her head, her mind clouding already in doubt. “I agree with your mother,” her father said, and her heart crumbled to pieces with his answer. Could she say no to them? What would happen if she did? She already knew the answer to that.

She still could vividly remember the day when she asked her parents if she could go to a boot camp during summer—because Monica was signed up with it as well—and they said no. She tried to rebel against their wishes but she ended up working at an ice cream parlour for the whole summer. Though she didn’t like the idea of it, she got used to serving people their orders. It was fun to her because she was used to maids doing the work for her. It took a positive turn in the end.

But would things turn out in the end positively if she would marry Oliver? She didn’t even love him. Yes, she did have special feelings for him way back high school but it was just a mere infatuation. She opened her mouth to protest but no words came out from her mouth. And even if she did, her parents would turn a blind eye on her. They would never listen. They would not hear the other end of the conversation. She closed her mouth again, and swallowed quietly. “Okay,” she meekly said.

“That’s quite settled then,” her father concluded, clasping his hands together, a satisfied smile written on his lips. He stood up, the legs of the chair scraping against the floor. “This should only be between Oliver, you, Celestine and me,” her father said. He held a warning tone, his glance shifting to Oliver’s table. Monique followed the trail her father led. His eyes landed on Nathaniel who was rubbing Oliver’s back which meant he was comforting his cousin. Somehow, her father knew that Nathaniel knew the tragedy behind Oliver’s crestfallen expression.

He left. Her mother’s plate was empty, but there were still crumbs staining on it. She wiped the smudges of mayonnaise at the corners of her lips primly. “Eat less,” her mother said, “Monica’s wedding gown is quite smaller than your size.” She left, too, and suddenly, Monique never felt so much alone in the world. The way her parents dismissed her as if she was just an object in their eyes broke her heart not only into two but in a million pieces.

If she could make her parents smile just like Monica. Would they be happy if she helped Oliver? Their approval always meant so much to her. She got used to being second but that didn’t mean she always wanted to be forever second. She wanted to be put first, and she wanted to feel valuable to the people whom she always put first. She heaved a deep breath, rolled the Spaghetti Bolognese with the fork and placed it inside her mouth.

Oliver’s presence suddenly hovered over her, his green eyes dimmed. “Monique,” he called in a raspy tone. There were bags underneath his eyes and his nose was splotchy red. He looked like Santa’s infamous reindeer. She wanted to comment it to him out loud but she kept her lips tightly shut. He looked like an awful mess. “We need to talk.”

“What is it?” she meekly replied.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised. “For telling you to be Monica’s replacement.”

“It’s okay. It will be a shame if your bride ran away, so I’m here to—,”

“We shouldn’t,” Oliver interjected. He rubbed his temple. “I will postpone the wedding.”

“Why?” she softly asked. Her voice sounded so weak against his urgent and deep voice.

“Because I want to find Monica,” he said softly, his eyes brimming into tears once more. “And I don’t want to marry you because it’s not right.”

Tears fell on his cheeks silently, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He was sitting in front of her, his shoulders square whilst his jaw was clenched. He was clenching and unclenching his hands. Monique’s hands flew to his, and she squeezed them tightly. They were cold and large against her small warm ones. He tensed at the contact but he slightly softened. “Okay.” She couldn’t count how many times she had said those words but it was the only word anyone wanted to hear from her mouth.

“You should tell my parents,” she said. “They want me to be the consolation prize.”

*

Monique quite expected what her parents’ reaction would be when Oliver told them he would postpone the wedding. “It would be moved to another date,” Oliver added, looking at her parents nervously. Monique stood beside him, but she was inches away from him.

Underneath the calm and collected exterior her mother held, her mother’s hazel eyes were hard, her brows digging deeper and deeper to the centre whilst her lips were thinning into a straight line. “This will be all over the news Oliver,” Celestine calmly said. “Don’t you think it will be a bad reputation?”

Monique wanted to open her mouth and say, “Oliver couldn’t care less about his public image. Nonetheless, his reputation won’t be tarnished. It’s just a postponement, not a cancellation.”, but she kept her lips shut.

“I don’t care,” Oliver answered coldly. “Your daughter is not an object to be used as a consolation.” His green eyes glanced at her, a pity watering his features. “She’s human, just like any one of us in this room.”

Monique thought she saw her mother create a retort out of her mouth but it all happened in a nanosecond. And before she could comprehend her mother’s expression, her mother held a stoic face, her lips shut whilst her jaw rigidly clenched. Her father only had a look of disappointment on his face but there was understanding laced in them. Guilt flashed in his eyes as well.

“Won’t they suspect why you postponed the wedding?” her mother’s venial tone echoed.

“I honestly just want to find Monica,” Oliver answered tiredly. His back was slouched and his lips were almost pursed into a thin straight line. Irritation was clear as a crystal in his green eyes. “And I’m just a CEO of Waitechnologies, not a celebrity.”

“Son,” Monique’s father said, “they won’t stop bothering your private life if they won’t find out the reason behind everything.”

“What are you suggesting, sir?” Oliver asked, irritated.

“Monique will be your girlfriend, posing as Monica,” her father replied coolly as if everything was easier said than done.

A stab of betrayal coursed through Monique’s veins. She thought her father, of all people, would be against that idea. Oliver almost had a whiplash after her father uttered those words. She saw Oliver swallowing something on his throat, his eyes in a deep dilemma. It made sense, since paparazzi wanted juicy gossip to get money. They would do everything in their hands to get the most specific details.

“I don’t want in,” Monique said in a small voice. “I’m not a consolation prize in everything dad.” Her voice was on the verge of breaking. “I want to find Monica but not in this disposition.”

“Honey,” her mother sweetly said, “you’re going to help Monica by becoming her until we find her.” The tears were at the brink of falling down. She heaved in an audible breath, wiping the first lone tear that fell on her cheek.

Her eyes stung, every bone in her body stung. A second option she was. And everything came crashing down to her—because Monica was gone. She was the centre of attention because she was a go-to place whenever their first option disappeared. And it hurt.

She turned around, her nails digging onto her palms. “And honestly, dear,” her mother added in her sickening sweet voice, “no one would bother if you’re Monica or not.”

She almost fell onto her steps as she ran away, her feet padding across the hallway. Oliver did not even try to do something about it and neither did she. She wanted to yell at her parents back for being terrible to her but she couldn’t because she was taught to obey her parents—no matter how right or how wrong they were.

She gasped for air as the cold wind blew onto her skin. The fall was beautiful in her eyes but the fall that she was in wasn’t. She thought falling was exhilarating like the fall season, but it was the other way around. It spiralled down.

“Monique?” It was Nathaniel. His blue eyes shone against the bright and vivid light of the sun. “I saw you running like a deer running away from its predator. What happened?”

She felt her heart warmed. Nathaniel knew nothing about her but he seemed to care for her the most. He did not even bother asking her if she was alright because he knew it. He saw it in the way she acted. “Nothing happened,” she lied, her voice shaking.

Nathaniel’s hands were on her shoulders. “Cut that crap,” he said sternly. “What did my cousin do to you?”

She shook her head in response. “He did nothing. That’s what he did,” she answered bitterly. She was then tugged into his chest, his heart beating serenely. It was like music to her ears. His arms wrapped around her and she felt a little okay, like a boulder was lifted from her shoulders. “I don’t want this, Nathaniel,” she said in between her sobs. “I wish I have a backbone to tell—,”

“Shh,” Nathaniel said. “Everything will be okay, Monique. You’re still in the process of a metamorphosis. You can’t expect yourself to become a butterfly if you don’t feel pain.”