Chapter Three
A sticky silence prevailed in the hallway, heavier than the marble walls that seemed to be closing in on Natalia's breath.
She did not scream; instead, her shoulders slowly slumped, and the sharp look vanished from her gray eyes, turning into a pale haze. She stood like a wax statue, while the words "You are going to marry Cedric" echoed in her ears like a ceaseless ringing, shattering every bit of defiance she had been hiding behind.
Marilyn approached with steady steps, the glint of pain in her eyes struggling with the mask of resignation she wore. She placed her slightly trembling hand on her daughter's shoulder, as if pulling her back from the edge of a deep abyss.
Marilyn (in a whisper that could barely be heard): "Come, Natalia... let's sit for a moment."
Natalia followed her mother's hand mechanically, devoid of soul; her legs moved as if the ground beneath her were swaying.
When her body touched the cold leather of the sofa, she sank into it exhaustedly, as if her bones had turned to dust. She leaned her head back and breathed with an audible rattle, resembling the breath of a drowning person trying to gather oxygen into narrow lungs.
Natalia said in a hoarse voice, emerging torn from between her trembling lips: "Father... did he withdraw his trust from me just like that?". She wasn't looking at her mother, but was staring into space with wandering looks. "All those nights, all those books... did they not intercede for me?".
Marilyn held Natalia's cold hand and began pressing it firmly yet gently, trying to pump some warmth into her daughter's frozen limbs: "My darling, your father trusts you... he only wants to protect you."
A single tear, hot and salty, descended on Natalia's pale cheek; she wiped it with the back of her hand with childish violence while shouting bitterly: "But what does Cedric have to do with it? Why should I marry that arrogant fool?"
Marilyn exhaled slowly and adjusted her posture to face her daughter completely, saying in a tone that tried to sound convincing: "Jonathan wants to secure your future, and your marriage to Cedric will be the best option."
Natalia replied, clenching her teeth, with the veins in her neck protruding from the intensity of the oppression: "He didn't like having a daughter to inherit from him, did he?".
Marilyn shook her head in denial and held Natalia's shoulders to force her to look at her: "No, it's not like that... he doesn't want you to marry someone from outside the family; he doesn't want any stranger to come between us."
Natalia breathed deeply, and in a moment of confusion and searching for a way out, she asked in a voice that shook at the end: "And why Cedric? Why not William? Isn't he the son of my father's friend too?".
As soon as Natalia uttered that name, a sudden silence prevailed. Marilyn's hand froze over her daughter's shoulder, and her eyes narrowed with apprehension as she scrutinized Natalia's panicked features: "William?... Is there something I don't know, Natalia?".
Natalia swallowed her saliva bitterly, feeling her heart pounding in her chest like a raging drum; she lowered her gaze quickly to escape her mother's scrutinizing looks and said, rubbing her fingers nervously: "I didn't mean anything... I just want to know the reason for choosing Cedric; is he the one who wanted this?".
Natalia was praying in secret that her lie would pass in peace, while her fingernails dug into her palm hiddenly.
Marilyn answered after a short silence, her eyes still fixed on her daughter's face: "William is much older than you; he is older than Cedric too... and your father is the one who chose Cedric."
The words fell like stones onto Natalia's chest; she sighed in despair and said in a shaky voice: "And me? Do I not have the right to choose? Am I not supposed to choose the man I will marry?". She gripped her dress tightly, waiting for an answer she knew in advance would not heal her wound.
At that moment, behind the heavy wooden door of the office, the air was charged with sparks of anger. Jonathan was pacing the room back and forth, clapping his hands together, the veins in his neck protruding: "I will not leave my legacy in the hands of a stranger whose mettle we do not know! This was the only solution."
Stuart sighed deeply and loosened his tie, which seemed to be choking him: "My friend, you have destroyed the temple over her head. She is still eighteen; you threw the decision like a thunderbolt without the slightest preparation... this is unbearable cruelty."
Jonathan stopped suddenly and wiped his face with his hand in exhaustion: "She is the one who pushed me to this! Her provocative recklessness... I no longer have patience for her childish actions; she must grow up."
On the side sofa, Cedric was sitting in total stillness, but his fingers, which were pressing on the arm of the sofa until his knuckles turned white, betrayed the storm raging inside him.
The plan he had drawn up to prevent this merger had not only failed but had backfired on him like a poisoned dagger. He was pushing the idea of "marrying Natalia" out of his head, but it kept coming back to encircle him like a shackle.
Stuart tried to lighten the atmosphere as he watched Jonathan's congested features: "Since you have announced the decision... do you intend to complete the matter now?"
At that, Cedric's eyes widened, and his heart rate accelerated until it could almost be heard in the next room. He felt a sudden coldness in his limbs, as if the world were waiting for him to pronounce a death sentence.
He was saved by Jonathan's words, which came out in a decisive tone: "Of course not! Natalia hasn't even crossed eighteen yet. What would society say about us? That we sell our daughters in their teens? The marriage will not happen now."
At that moment, Cedric's expectant shoulders relaxed, and his exhale came out long and heavy, as if life had returned to his body after departing. His father Stuart was watching him in silence, reading in his son's face the same bitter rejection he saw in Natalia's eyes; both were prisoners in a game drawn by the adults.
The morning sun emerged pale, but it brought no renewal; the faces in the hallway reflected a long night of bitter insomnia.
Natalia withdrew from her bed, whose cover remained tidy in a way that indicated a body had not enjoyed sleep in it. She stood under the cold shower water, perhaps to drive away the fantasies of Cedric that had haunted her all night, then descended the stairs with heavy steps, holding the railing firmly as if she feared collapsing.
Everyone was there, scattered in the hall like ghosts in a deserted painting. Marilyn had not touched her coffee cup, which had turned completely cold, and Jonathan remained staring at a newspaper without turning a single page of it.
When Natalia entered, her eyes met Cedric's. He was sitting with a rigid back, encircling his coffee mug with his fingers so hard that his knuckles turned white.
His looks were not just anger; they were arrows of silent hatred, as if her presence in the room were sucking the oxygen out of his lungs.
Stuart, in a hoarse voice shrouded in fatigue: "Good morning, Nat."
She answered in a faint voice, barely emerging from her constricted throat: "Good morning."
Marilyn leaned her body toward her daughter, scrutinizing the paleness of her face with concern: "Are you... do you feel better, my dear?"
Natalia did not answer; instead, her eyes remained fixed on the patterned carpet.
Jonathan pointed to the seat next to him with his hand: "Natalia, come. Sit beside me."
Natalia moved like a driven machine and sat on the edge of the seat with a slightly hunched back.
Jonathan placed his hand over hers; his touch was warm in a way that contradicted the coldness of her limbs.
Jonathan: "I am sorry, Nat. Last night... the words were sharp, and perhaps the decision was more final than necessary in a moment of anger."
Natalia's head rose suddenly, and her eyes widened with a sudden gleam of hope, like a drowning person who glimpsed a ray of light: "Does this mean... that you have backed down?"
Jonathan shook his head slowly, in a motion that extinguished that gleam immediately: "No."
Natalia's features contracted again, and she dug her nails into her palm. Jonathan continued in a calm and steady voice: "Do not worry, you have many years ahead of you.
You will complete your studies, graduate, and build your academic future. And when you reach twenty-four, the marriage to Cedric will take place."
At that moment, Cedric's gaze turned toward Jonathan. He did not utter a word, but his jaw moved with noticeable tension, and his eyes narrowed.
The silence that enveloped him spoke of absolute rejection, but he knew that Jonathan's authority was like gravity; it was impossible to escape from, not just for him, but for his father as well.
Marilyn, trying to lighten the mood with a pale smile: "My daughter, six years is a whole lifetime. Do not exhaust your mind by thinking about it now."
Natalia could not suppress the words that were boiling in her chest.
She stood up suddenly, making everyone raise their heads to her in astonishment.
Natalia: "Father, I do not love Cedric... and he clearly shares the same feeling. How is it possible that you buy my future with a marriage deal devoid of soul?"
Cedric froze in his place. He did not expect her to have the audacity to say that publicly in front of everyone. He shot her a look that combined astonishment and silent warning.
Jonathan, with extreme coldness: "Love... is a guest that comes later, Natalia, or it doesn't come. What matters is loyalty."
Natalia took a step forward, her eyes burning with a new defiance: "Six years remain... what makes you sure my heart will stay empty? What if I fell in love with someone else?".
A suffocating silence prevailed. Marilyn stopped breathing for seconds, and Stuart felt embarrassed and looked away. Natalia continued, directing her gaze toward Cedric this time: "And Cedric? How do you guarantee that he won't find another girl to give his heart to in these years?".
Cedric's features stiffened completely. At that moment, he wished he could clap his hand over her mouth to prevent her from igniting the flames further.
He knew that Jonathan did not accept possibilities that were out of his control.
Jonathan, in a low voice, indicating that an idea had begun to brew in his head: "Yes... I did not take this possibility into account."
Natalia smiled a bitter smile when she saw hesitation invading her father's features: "So? If one of us loved a different person, how do you expect us to play the role of the happy couple?".
Marilyn, in a trembling voice, as she held the edge of her dress: "Natalia, my darling... you speak as if you are going to fall in love with someone tomorrow!".
Natalia replied as she turned toward her mother, throwing her final words like a time bomb: "Falling in love is very easy, Mom... much easier than you think."
Jonathan's finger-tapping on the marble table stopped suddenly, and a cautious stillness prevailed that made the sound of the wall clock's hands ring out like hammer blows.
His blue eyes moved slowly, once toward the defiantly standing Natalia, and once toward the frozen Cedric. A cloud of deep thought hung over his features, as if his mind were a calculator re-auditing profits and losses in mere seconds.
Jonathan cleared his throat, and Stuart's back straightened involuntarily, while Marilyn held her breath, pressing on her handkerchief until her nails dug into her palm.
Jonathan, in a calm and confident voice, carrying the tone of a manager who had settled a major deal: "You have hit the target, Natalia... your possibilities were very logical, and logic is the only language I respect.
Therefore, I have completely reformulated the plan."
At that moment, Natalia's body relaxed slightly, a glimmer of light crept into her gray eyes, and her pale face began to regain its vitality, thinking that the pickaxe of her words had demolished the wall of his stubbornness.
As for Cedric, his jaw muscles contracted, and his eyes followed Jonathan's lips with deadly anticipation; fear was creeping into his limbs like a cold current, a fear he had not experienced even in his most difficult deals.
Jonathan completed, as he interlaced his fingers over the table, his eyes shining with polar coldness: "The marriage will take place tomorrow... there is no room to give coincidence or 'love' a single gap to destroy what I have built."