I spend the rest of the day in my room pondering over my discussion with my parents, and it's safe to say that I only succeeded in giving myself a serious headache. I don't know what to do or how to react anymore. My parents have never done something like this before, so I know they are dead serious about this marriage.
I check the time and realize it's almost time for dinner, so I quickly go downstairs to help my mum with the cooking. She doesn't say anything when I enter the kitchen, and we're both silent as we prepare dinner. She must know that a lot is playing on my mind right now, and I'm grateful that she doesn't pry or bring up the marriage again.
About an hour later, dinner is done and I start setting the table. It's almost 7:30, and I know that my prospective husband's parents are probably already on their way here. After I'm done setting the table, mum tells me to go upstairs and change my clothes. I was about to argue when I look down and think better of it—maybe pajamas really aren't the best option for me to wear.
I go up to my room, and after sifting through my suitcase, I decide on a simple black long-sleeved dress with little red roses on the bottom part. It's simple but presentable, just the look I'm going for. I sit in front of the mirror staring at my reflection for a minute as I gather my thoughts, and the image that stares back is plain and ordinary.
My straight brunette hair flows down and stops a few inches below my shoulders, and my white skin is neither milky pale nor tan—it's just white enough for everyone to know what race I am. My brown eyes look unsure and troubled, but otherwise I look like any regular 24-year-old American woman. Maybe Adrian will take one look at me and refuse to get married to me because I'm too plain and ordinary. The thought makes me smile a little.
I'm putting on a simple pair of rose-shaped earrings and a matching necklace when I hear the doorbell ring downstairs—our guests have arrived. I take a few deep breaths before making my way downstairs to join them at the dining table. I could already hear voices at the table, and I guessed that my parents had already led the guests there for dinner. I managed to put a small smile on my face before climbing down the remaining stairs and turning right towards the dining room.
I entered the room and I was quite surprised at the sight in front of me. Seated beside my parents were the most picture-perfect couple I've ever seen, and I couldn't help but wonder if they came out of a magazine or something. They look like they belong on the cover of some rich people lifestyle magazine for wealthy families. Everything from their dressing to the smell of their perfumes and even their physical appearances was screaming luxury. Their blonde hair and radiant skin stuck out like some art piece at our dining table. Where on earth did my parents meet these people? I don't remember ever seeing such a couple in our town, even though I was born here.
They looked to be in their late fifties, yet they still appeared so radiant and perfect-looking. A breath of awe left my mouth, and I couldn't help but wonder—if my prospective husband's parents are this good-looking, then how would my prospective husband look?
I didn't realize that I was still staring at them when the woman's voice snaps me out of my thoughts. "Oh, you must be Katrina. We've been looking forward to meeting you," she says with a big smile, and I realize that everyone at the table has turned to look at me now. Before I can even react, she walks over to where I'm standing a few steps away from the table and pulls me into a big hug.
My mind goes blank at her bold move, and I am utterly speechless. I don't know what to do, so I just keep my hands at my side as she hugs me. She pulls back a few seconds later and smiles at me. She doesn't seem to mind the fact that her hug wasn't reciprocated, and I'm thankful that she doesn't feel offended. We head back to the table and take a seat—the couple are sitting next to each other, and the woman hasn't stopped staring at me.
"It's nice to finally meet you, dear. I've been wanting to meet you for so long," the woman tells me, and yet again I find myself speechless. She's being so nice to me, but I don't know what to say to her. I barely even know her, so I choose to give a small smile in return.
"We got excited the minute your parents told us you would be visiting," the man adds, and I realize that this is the first time he has said anything since I got here.
"I see. It's nice to meet you too, Mr..." I trail off blankly, realizing I don't even know their names.
"Mr. and Mrs. Morgan," the man says with a smile as he completes my statement.
Mum wasn't too pleased with the way I responded, and she gave me a disapproving look before turning to face the Morgans. "Katrina is still trying to come to terms with the proposal, and so we were not able to tell her about your family earlier. I'm sorry if she offended you in any way," mum tells them, and I scoff internally. I never said I would try to come to terms with this issue—the only reason I agreed to this dinner was for their sake, and I didn't give a damn about whether the couple took offense to my words or not.
"Oh, it's really okay. We know how difficult it must be for you to suddenly get the news of such a big decision, so we understand your shock right now," the man says in a gentle but firm voice.
"But we'll have time to discuss everything," his wife adds. She seems so happy about the prospect of a wedding that I'm shocked. She doesn't even know me, yet she's so excited about the idea. I'm even more surprised about this whole arranged marriage talk now that I've seen them in person. Why would they want plain old me to marry their son? I mean, if their son takes after them in the looks department, then I don't think he'll have any problems getting even a supermodel to marry him.
"We'll have plenty of time to discuss all that, but first we should eat dinner before it gets cold," dad says, and I smile internally. He always knows how to diffuse a situation. He must have realized that I wasn't ready to talk about the marriage right now. We all dig into our food and start eating. The only sound being made is that of our cutlery hitting the plates, and I found myself wishing that dinner would never end, but sadly after about 40 minutes we were done eating.
I cleared the table and took the plates to the kitchen, where I proceeded to wash them as slowly as I could before joining everyone in the living room. I took a seat next to my mum and faced the Morgans. It was time to talk.
"So Katrina, what do you have to say about our decision?" Mrs. Morgan asks tentatively, and I shift my full focus on her.
"Not to be rude, ma'am, but I'm not okay with this. I don't understand why all of you would come to the sudden decision that two complete strangers should get married. It won't work out," I tell her honestly.
"Well, why do you think it won't work out?" Mr. Morgan asks, and I stare at him in shock. Is that even a normal question?
"Sir, I don't know your son, and he doesn't know me either, so how can we do something as sacred as marriage?" I answer back calmly. He smiles at me before asking, "So if you guys get to know each other, then there's no problem then?" and I quickly shake my head.
"That's not what I meant. You all know it's more complicated than that," I say to them.
"Look, darling, your parents have told us a lot about you...including your relationship issues too. We know that you're not so lucky with that, and you're quite similar to our son in that aspect. Our son Adrian is already 29 years old, and he's nowhere near getting married despite the number of girls flocking around him," his wife adds in a gentle voice.
I give my parents a quick glare for that—I can't believe they told them about my past relationships.
"Our son only cares about work. He's always busy with the company, and he even told us that he won't get married, not even in the next ten years. Imagine how we must feel as parents, having our son tell us that," Mr. Morgan adds sadly as he shakes his head.
"His younger sister is 23 years old—she's already married and has a baby boy, yet our only son won't even give a lady the time of day," his wife tells me, and I cringe internally, wondering what type of guy their son is.
"We just want him to be happy. We want him to be able to experience the joy of marriage and to be able to feel that overwhelming happiness that we also felt when we started our own family and had him and his sister. We want the two of you to experience it together," Mrs. Morgan tells me as she takes my hands in hers. I understand where they're coming from and their wishes, but I still don't think it will work out.
"Okay, assuming that we even did get married, there's no guarantee that we'll get to enjoy all what you've said. The happiness and joy the two of you felt when you got married was because of the love you guys shared, and the happiness of starting a family was also because of the affection you share. Adrian and I aren't in love, so we still wouldn't get to experience those things." All their ideas are just wishful thinking—none are being realistic.
"But there's such a thing as love after marriage. You guys could also experience that." I can see that Mrs. Morgan is just grasping at straws now.
I was about to start arguing with her when something about her words rang in my head, and I had to clarify. "Wait, what company? You mentioned that Adrian is too busy with some company?" I asked, frowning.
The Morgans immediately stare at my parents, who just shrug. "You haven't told her yet?" Mrs. Morgan asks, and my mum shakes her head in reply.
"We didn't get the chance to tell her. She already reacted harshly to the decision, and I was worried that if we told her, then she would think that's the reason we want them to get married," mum says, and I frown at her words.
"What aren't you telling me?" I ask, narrowing my eyes as I turn to face my mum.
"Well, our family owns Brixton & Co," Mr. Morgan answers on their behalf, and my mouth drops open in shock for like the hundredth time since I got here.
"Wait, you mean THE Brixton & Co? The really popular food company?" I ask in shock, and they nod. Oh, these people are not just some rich family—they're millionaire-level rich. I try to swallow down the surprise, and my accusing glare immediately falls on my parents, who look like they knew what was coming.
"And does this little detail have anything to do with your decision?" I spit out stiffly, which made my mum throw her hands up in frustration.
"I knew you would accuse us the minute you found out, and that's why we didn't tell you before," she says, the annoyance clear in her voice, but I still keep my glare leveled on them.
"Darling, you know that money and fame doesn't really faze us. Besides, we've been friends with the Morgans even before we found out about their social status. They moved to our town last year, and we met at the annual town picnic, and that's when we became friends. We eventually found out that they were the owners of Brixton & Co, but that didn't affect our friendship in any way," dad tells me, ending his little speech with a slight chuckle when he saw the glare contest going on between me and mum.
"They're really nice and humble people, Kat. They've been nothing but nice to us, and they don't act all high and mighty. We've also been discussing about you and Adrian since last year," mum adds, folding her hands as if daring me to accuse her any further. I knew that they were telling the truth—my family isn't really fazed by such things, and it's not like we were poor either. I finally stop glaring at them and sigh in defeat.
"So what do you have to say about our decision now?" Mr. Morgan says jokingly, obviously trying to break the awkward air that had taken over after my outburst and accusation. I desperately try to think of another reason to refuse this idea.
"Wait, you guys are so busy asking about my opinion—what about Adrian? Does he know about this? Have you told him?" I say, and I'm completely sure that he won't agree to this.
"Well, yes we have, and he agreed to it. He's going to marry you," Mrs. Morgan squealed, and my eyes widen yet again.
"He agreed? Why? When?" I have a million questions, but I'm too surprised to even ask them. They just gave me a whole sob story about how their son doesn't give any woman the time of day, but he so easily agreed to marry me? That's so strange.
"They already invited him over to talk about it with him last week. We all met to discuss it over lunch, and even though he was skeptical at first, we talked things over with him and he finally agreed," my dad says, and I snap my head towards him so fast I'm shocked I didn't get whiplash.
"You and mum already met him? What did you talk about?" I ask incredulously. I can't believe they kept all this away from me—damn, the amount of treachery in my family is astounding.
"It was just a friendly chat over lunch. We told him the basics about you, nothing too personal," mum says with a coy smile, and I groan out loud.
"That's because you don't consider anything too personal. You could be telling people the most embarrassing things about me and still say it's not too personal," I say with a groan as I roll my eyes, which makes them all burst into laughter and my mum shrugs innocently.
I turn back to face Mr. and Mrs. Morgan, this time my expression is less aggressive and unwelcoming. "So what's the next step to take?" I ask, a small smile making its way onto my face. I'm no longer trying to find all means of refusing this idea—I can tell that this makes them happy.
"Well, we think it's best if you and Adrian meet. You guys can talk and get to know each other, then after that we'll await your joint decision," Mr. Morgan tells me. I ponder over it for a few seconds and realize that nothing's wrong with that idea, so I give them a nod to show my acceptance.
"That's great. He's coming into town tomorrow, so he can meet with you. The two of you can meet up in two days' time and have a nice chat," Mrs. Morgan says happily, and I nod again to let her know I'm fine with the arrangements.
"Can I get your number so I can call you and we'll also give it to Adrian?" she asks in a gentle voice, as if afraid that I'll suddenly change my mind and get angry again. I look at the phone in her hands and stretch my hand out. She hands it to me, and I quickly type in my number before returning it to her.
She smiles and then pulls me into another hug, but this time I awkwardly pat her back. At least it's better than not reacting at all.
"We'll be taking our leave now. It was nice meeting you, Katrina," Mr. Morgan tells me, and we shake hands.
"It was nice meeting you too, Mr. and Mrs. Morgan," I tell them with a polite smile, but Mrs. Morgan shakes her head at me.
"Oh darling, there's no need to call us that. Just call me Darlene, and my husband's name is Michael," she says, but I know I won't feel comfortable calling them by their names. I still give them a nod anyway, and they smile at me before leaving. My parents see them off to the door, and I'm left sitting on the couch.
I wonder what kind of person this Adrian is and why he agreed to marry me. Well, I guess there's only one way to find out.