9"Why are you making things so difficult?" Mother said as I felt her cold gaze starring daggers at me, before I could react a cold slap landed on my cheek. "I will not warn you again, don't you dare test my limits." As she slammed the door shut, my legs gave out, and I dropped to my knees, shivering in terror as I wondered what had become of my life.
The West family, known for their influence on the esteemed business market, and the Blanche family, known for their social prowess, have been allied for many years. I, Ivy West, was selected to be in an arranged marriage with Victor Blanche "to strengthen the alliance." That's what my father's excuse for basically selling his daughter away. I was just 19 years old, in my first year in uni, and I was expected to just abandon my studies, my life, for a man I'd never even met. How unfortunate could life get?
The only thing keeping me from breaking down was my best friend, or so I thought. At this point, I didn't think my life could get any worse. But a person's expectation is always far from reality. I entered my car and drove off, pondering why I let my parents treat me like discarded waste, a price to pay for their own gain. As I thought, tears started streaming down my face as my despair finally washed over me.
As my body gave out, I was about to turn back when I suddenly saw a car driving at full speed in the direction of my car. Before I could react, the car collided with mine, resulting in a crash. Before I passed out, I heard faint shouts, and then everything went black. I was actually glad that my life might be at its wit's end, and my despaired soul could finally end its suffering.
I slowly opened my eyes, and a blinding light hit my eyes. I wondered if I was in heaven. When I looked clearly, I was laying on a hospital bed with bandages wrapped around my body. Then I suddenly felt excruciating pain and saw a figure standing in the corner of the room, watching me with an intense gaze.
"Welcome back, Miss West," he said, his voice low and smooth. "I'm glad to see you're awake." I tried to respond, but my throat was dry and scratchy. He handed me a glass of water, and I took a sip, feeling the cool liquid soothe my parched throat.
"Who are you?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm someone who's been taking care of you," he replied, his eyes never leaving mine. "You're lucky to be alive. The accident could have been fatal."
I stared at him, my mind racing with questions. Who was this man, and why was he being so kind to me? And what did he mean by "lucky"? As I looked into his eyes, I felt a spark of recognition, but it was fleeting. I didn't know this man, but somehow, I felt a connection to him.
I stepped out of the hospital, the bright sunlight a harsh contrast to the darkness that had consumed my life. I was still reeling from the argument with my mother and the car accident. As I looked around, I realized my parents weren't there. A surge of defiance coursed through me, and I hailed a taxi to take me to my boyfriend's house.
When I arrived, my heart sank. I could hear the sounds of laughter and whispers coming from inside. I knocked on the door, my hands shaking with anticipation. The door opened, and Ethan stood there with a look of guilt on his face. And then I saw Prissy, my best friend, standing behind him, a sheepish grin on her face.
I felt like I'd been punched in the gut. Without a word, I turned around and ran back to my car, tears streaming down my face. I drove off, not caring about the traffic or the speed limit. I just needed to get away.
As I sped through the streets, my phone rang. Ethan's name flashed on the screen. I ignored it, but he called again and again. Finally, I answered, my voice shaking with rage and hurt. "How could you, Ethan?" I spat.
"I'm sorry, Ivy. I don't know what happened. It meant nothing," Ethan said, trying to sound contrite.
"Meant nothing?" I laughed, the sound bitter and cold. "You're going to stand there and tell me that screwing my best friend meant nothing?"
The line went silent, and I knew I'd won. I hung up the phone and threw it onto the passenger seat. I took a detour through the back alleyway to avoid traffic, the narrow streets empty except for the sound of my own sobs.
As I turned a corner, I saw a figure lying on the ground. It was the stranger from the hospital, bleeding and unconscious. Something inside of me clicked, and I pulled over. I got out of the car and rushed to his side. "Oh no, oh no, oh no," I muttered, tears still streaming down my face. I helped him into the car and drove to my apartment, not knowing what else to do.
As I pulled into the parking lot, I looked at the stranger's pale face. Who was this man, and why did I feel like I had to help him? I gently shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. I'd worry about it later. For now, I just needed to get him inside and tend to his wounds. As I took him inside I wondered what terrible things this guy had go through or if he had any secrets no one was supposed to know.