Paper Rings (English)

“I’m getting married.” Primrose firmly declared as she rose from her seat. Her eyes, filled with utmost determination, did not waver even with the sight of her father’s fiery gaze. She didn't care for anything else, all she wanted is for this to be over and done with. “You don’t need to come. It’ll only be a small ceremony with no press involved. After that, we’ll fly to New Caledonia and try to settle there for good.” It took almost a minute before she was able to see the reaction she had long been waiting for. His flaring nostrils and knitted eyebrows would often intimidate her in situations like these, but certainly not today. The red-haired lady pulled her chin up and posed a confident demeanor. “New Caledonia?” Wilson Dia scoffed and shook his head. His fingers ran through his visibly thinning grey hair as he heaved a long sigh. “Yes, New Caledonia. France, Southwest Pacific Ocean. The Mortels have a property there.” “So, this is how you will repay me for raising you alone? Marrying without proper notice and running off to a foreign country just to pursue that stupid dream of yours?” A sharp pang of anger filled her chest upon hearing her father’s spiteful words. After a brief moment of silence, the sound of her laughter full of raspy bitterness filled the four-cornered office. The woman only halted when she felt her throat drying up. Her condescending smile remained on her lips until she saw a hint of displeasure flashing in her father's eyes. “I’m so sorry, Dad.” Primrose dabbed a finger in the corner of her eye as if wiping tears out of delight. “It’s just so funny that you would think that way when I’m just following your wishes. You should be thankful that I'm finally being an obedient daughter.” “This is your definition of being an obedient daughter?” His voice finally cracked, bringing a smirk to the lady's face. “And how exactly is this part of my wishes, Rosey?” “Come on, Dad. Aren’t you the one who chose Messi Sander Mortel as my potential marriage partner?” She leaned closer in an attempt to taunt the man seated across the table. “I’m getting married to him just like you wanted. What are you getting angry about?” “And I clearly remember how much you hated that idea.” The old man stood up and circled his desk to face her. “I can’t believe you’re scheming this right after your mother got arrested. You know very well how deeply involved Mr. Mortel is in her case.” “So, that’s it.” She clapped her hands together in the air, baffled by the words that came out of her father’s mouth. “You changed your mind about Sander because he stood witness against dear innocent Ygritte in court.” “That’s not the point.” Wilson spouted in a higher tone than usual. “Why would you go to New Caledonia and settle there? I won’t sit still and watch that damned man take my precious daughter away from me.” “Precious, my ass.” Her sarcastic remark made Wilson’s mouth twitch. She ran a hand through the strands of her hair. “I’m not here to seek your permission. I just figured you ought to know since Sander’s team plans to let the press know about our marriage as soon as we fly out of the country.” “No, you can’t do that.” For the first time in her entire life, she saw her father’s eyes wavering. It was as if he was terrified by the idea of her leaving. “You can’t turn your back away from us. We are your only family.” “Look.” She pursed her lips into a thin line and shook her head in dismay. “Whatever happened to your mistress, it’s none of my business. She deserved it for being greedy and coveting things that were not hers. I will be damned to enter hell if I consider that witch part of my family.” She staggered backward after his giant palm cracked across her small face without any warning. Her hand reached for her swollen cheek as she slowly broke into a peal of pained laughter once again. “Resorting to this again, I see. Classic, Dad.” “Did you think I'd just allow this to happen before my eyes?” Two men adorned in black suits and sunglasses emerged from the doorstep after pushing a button on his desk. “It’s my responsibility as your father to prevent you from making stupid decisions like this. You’re going home, and you’ll stay there until you get your head straight.” She huffed and tossed her hair back to daunt the huge men approaching her direction. “You can’t do that. Right now, you’re just a father of a married woman. Other than my husband, you lost your right to tell me what to do.” Wilson’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What are you blabbering about? Married woman?” “Oh, I forgot to tell you. We have already signed the marriage contract, so the ceremony is just for formality, since Sander’s family is a sucker for that. I may have confused you with my opening statement.” Primrose raised her hand to show an engagement ring and a wedding band overlapping on her slender finger. “And since you can’t come, I’d like you to meet my husband officially.” As if on cue, the Mortel Malls President walked inside the office. His wide stance and assertive walk drew everyone’s attention. Dressed in a simple navy blue casual suit along with his hair bunned in half, not even her could deny the man’s oozing charisma. Inside of her rushed a hint of self-inflicting embarrassment. Why is she so taken aback when they both planned every detail of this act? “Mayor Dia, apologies for my sudden intrusion.” His eyes narrowed as soon as their gazes met. Primrose’s mind screamed in shock when he placed his hand around her waist and leaned in for a kiss on her temple. She gulped in an attempt to suppress the urge to push him away and scowl at him. “Smile, little lamb. We don’t want to be found out so early in the game, don’t we?” He whispered in her ears. She traced a fake smile and beamed in his direction. Her eyes were squirting the silent words of we’ll-talk-about-this-later. “No worries, honey. I’m sure Dad wouldn’t care less. He seems so eager to meet you after all.” Wilson Dia cleared his throat loudly. Seeing how his shoulder slumped back, the rebellious daughter could tell that her father was contemplating. She knew he wouldn’t act so rashly in front of Messi Sander Mortel. After all, the man holding her waist was the sole heir to the country’s most profitable business. He wouldn’t want to mess up his favor nor create a dent that would affect his chances of winning for the next election — especially now that the Mortels agreed to fund and support his party’s campaign. “ So, you two have already tied the knot, and you came here just to inform me?” He turned his feet back to the direction of his desk and sat there reluctantly. “You sound so disappointed,” Sander blurted out with a smug look on his face. “Aren’t you the one who asked my father to have me meet your beautiful daughter? I remember him stressing that it is a favor he needs to fulfill for an old friend.” The City Mayor nodded in defeat — far from his fierce objection when his daughter pointed out the same thing. That sight irked Primrose to the core. She balled her fists tightly, trying hard not to spill bitter words towards the spiteful old man. “It’s not that I’m against this, Mr. Mortel — “ “Let’s drop the formalities. Why don’t you just call me son from now on, and I’ll call you dad in return?” Her eyes widened with his sudden suggestion. He winked at her as soon as their gazes connected again. It wasn’t part of the act. They simply planned to have Sander pop out there and inform Wilson of their marriage because she was well aware that her father wouldn’t allow her to leave peacefully. But it seemed like the man intended to pluck a nerve before ending this drama. “O-okay, son.” He managed to say amid the intense tension floating in the air. “Aren’t you two going too fast? Marrying secretly and flying far from here to settle seems like an irrational decision. Besides, what’s the rush?” “Well, your daughter is a delightful sight. Any man would rush if given a chance to marry this lady.” “And so you already did, darling.” She patted her fingers lightly to his cheek as if reminding him of that fact. “Yes, and I’ll do it over again if I could.” He scooped her wrist up and planted a small kiss on her hand. His awful attempt at sweet talk almost brought a sour taste to her mouth. It was a relief she managed to keep a straight face amidst the cringe filling her insides. She took a deep breath before turning to Wilson once again. Seeing that he was still taken aback by the sight of them being overly intimate, she decided to take the lead to end this distasteful act. “Anyway, we need to go. I promised Sander’s mom that I’d help with the cookies today.” Primrose flashed a cold smile toward her father and walked to bestow a kiss on his cheek. “We’ll come again after the ceremony,” she paused briefly, “And before we take off. Take care, Dad.” The lump on her throat only disappeared when they successfully bid the man goodbye and stepped out of the room. When they reached back to Sander’s car, her eyes shifted to the trembling pair of hands neatly placed in her lap. In her mouth escaped a deep draw of breath. She was relieved that it went more smoothly than how she had imagined it to be. “Honey. Darling.” His loud snort while starting the car’s engine, made the lady tilt her head. He wasn’t gazing her way, but his lips carved an amused smirk. “If you can’t think of any less cutesy endearment, at least try to be consistent about it. You’re making it obvious.” “Well, that’s the least I could do. It was you who kept circling away from the script like a terrible co-actor that you are.” She rolled her eyes and gazed out of the window as the car moved along. Sander scoffed at her sarcastic remark and shook his head. “Is your cheek alright?” “My cheek? What about it?” Primrose reached for her cheek and flinched in sudden pain. The memory of her father slapping her just a few moments ago flashed at the back of her mind. “I-it’s fine. Don’t mind it.” He shrugged his shoulders and continued to handle the wheel. “By the way, I have an important meeting today. I’ll just drop you at Mama’s and pick you up after work.” “Whatever for?” “For the cookies?” “Don’t tell me you believed that, silly.” She tucked her hair behind an ear and raised an eyebrow. “I just said that to stop you from spouting cringey lines. You have no idea how much I wanted to puke.” “Hah, not my fault that you’re born with a rare case of romance deficiency.” He jabbed back and gave her a brief scathing glance. “Anyway, it’s time for you to do your end of the bargain.” “What do you mean?” “Ah, yes,” he met her confused gaze as the car approached a red light. “The news of us signing a marriage contract already reached our chaotic household this morning.” “Oh, that.” She placed a palm to her nape and pursed her lips into a thin line. “Sure, what do you need me to do?” “The elders want to meet you.” He stepped on the gas when the traffic lights turned green again. “Or should I say, examine you from head to toe? Judge you, if that’s the right term.” “So you’re throwing me under the bus? And completely unarmed, at that.” “Not exactly. Even if I’m there, there’s not much I could do anyway. My absence might help you more than my presence.” “Whatever you say. Not like I could refuse now.” She hissed and glanced away from him. “Damn that fake marriage contract.” “What do you mean fake?” Her brows immediately furrowed with his puzzling query. Just when she was about to open her mouth and interrogate him, the car stopped in front of a Victorian-themed three-story home. “Best of luck,” he turned the engine off and unbuckled his seatbelt. After that, he leaned closer to help remove hers. “We can talk about this later. For now, smile.” Primrose raised her index finger to his lips when he attempted for a kiss on her cheek. “Can’t you keep your lips to yourself, Mr. Mortel?” He didn’t speak; he only motioned his head outside the window. From the corner of her eyes, she saw three elderly women, including the Mortel family’s esteemed madam, ogling at them like a sight to behold. “You really should get this car heavily tinted,” she muttered in defeat, and touched her lips to his cheek instead. “That’s the third. Next time, you owe me one.” “A kiss? Sure.“ “A favor, and an answer, I hope.” “See you tonight, then.” The tip of his mouth hitched up, along with a hint of amusement flashing in his pair of brown eyes. “About the tinted car windows, let me ask my security team about that.” “Piss off,” her hand reached above his collar to slightly push him back to his seat. “Surely, you can do it for your fake wife.” “Again,” Sander retained his mischievous grin, even wider this time. Not even a least put off by her dismissive behavior. “What do you mean fake?”