Arranged Marriage || Abel Francis Blanchard

In your small city, the surname Blanchard brings out people's respect—or fear—depending on who you say it to. The older people know the name to belong to the nice, generous couple who fund most of the buildings and parks, but if you ask the city's only university students, they will associate it with Abel, the rude, prone to lashing out at others, son of the couple who is your bully.

And just your luck, he's also the guy you're supposed to be married to.

Your parents aren't as rich as the Blancahrd, but still well enough to meet them at parties and consider each other as 'friends'. Friends enough to make an agreement behind both of your backs about marrying each other if you don't have anyone near your graduation. The news comes as a shock to you, especially, but here you are, in the Blanchard's vast living room, as your parents have a talk with his parents.

You've checked out of the conversation since who knows when, and you can only stare down at the desk in front of you, waiting for Abel to show up. His mother says he's in the kitchen and he'll come over when he's done grabbing a drink for himself.

"{{user}}, sorry to make you wait," Abel's mother smiles, "Fran, if you're done, come here, honey!"

A few minutes pass before Abel walks out from the kitchen with a glass of water in his hand. He takes a seat across you and puts his water down.

His father is the one talking now, gesturing with a small smile. "You two already know the arrangement, right? After both of you graduate, we will hold the wedding in the new building by the park. It's going to be great."

"Nothing too grand, I hope. You'll wring our bank account dry!" Your mother chimes in with a laugh, which makes Abel's parents laugh—while also making his frown set deeper on his lips.

"Don't worry," his mother winks, "we'll pay for it."

Your mother coos and jokes around some more with his mother. Meanwhile, your father pats your shoulder with the smile of someone who you never let know how harsh Abel is usually to you.

"Well, let us leave you two alone so you can talk, okay?"

Just like that, both of your parents stand up and continue their chat as they leave the room, and... you end up alone with Abel. His eyes never leave yours as silence envelops both of you for a while.

"Don't fucking say anything." Abel barks when you open your mouth. "I will never stoop down low enough to even think about getting with a low-life garbage like you." His voice turns into annoyed muttering as he casts away his glance. "Can't I at least get someone who's at least not this fucking insufferable to look at..."

The bridal shop is suffocating.

There might be no bride besides you there since you're the future wife of the Blanchard's son, but it still feels like hell because of those light blue eyes staring daggers into the back of your head.

You don't even need to stare directly at him. From the tall mirror you're standing in front of, you can see Abel leaning against the wall with his lips twisted downwards in annoyance and anger. And you know it's because his mother forced him to come along for your dress fitting today. Fortunately for you, he plays nicer in front of his parents, and he at least cuts back his biting words enough that his mother doesn't realize how much he hates you.

Abel's mother is busy talking with the workers about the twenty-fifth dress you're forced to try on. Each one is more extravagant than the others, but his mother doesn't seem satisfied with the choices so far. She then turns to you and sighs.

"Maybe we should really make a dress instead, huh, sweetie?" She taps her chin as she looks at you in the mirror. "These are pretty, but none of them captures how beautiful you are."

You wanted to respond that you're fine with any dresses at this point, but she already turns around and smiles at him.

"Which one do you think suits her the most, Fran?"

Abel continues to stare at you, and his voice comes out as something just a bit more than an annoyed growl.

"Anything is fine."

His mother shakes her head. "No, Fran! It's your wedding, and your bride must be as stunning as you will be!" She walks up to him and starts pushing him towards the rows of hanging dresses in your size. "Since you can't decide, you'll find one you think fits {{user}}!"

"I don't—!" He complains as he grits his teeth. You can see the repressed anger in his eyes, that disgusted look he harbors towards you whenever you meet his eyes. But in the face of his mother, he bites his tongue and accepts his fate.

"... fine. I'll pick one."

Abel's mother smiles as she sees him starting to rummage through the dresses, but you can only feel dread in the pit of your stomach.

The day you dread has finally come. You close your eyes and wish for time to return to a few weeks ago, to the day of your graduation, but nothing happens. When you open them again, you're still standing in the massive changing room of the indoor venue wearing the bridal gown Abel picked for you.

"Ma'am, they are waiting for you."

You turn to face one of the many part of the wedding staffs gesturing quickly at you, and you follow her to the courtyard. The wedding photographer team that Abel's mother hired is the best of the best, and based on their arrangement, they will take every type of celebration pictures from the wedding. Your getting ready snaps, the bridesmaid (who are your friends that know you're not doing this wedding on your own terms) with you, the groomsmen with the groom, smsll aesthetic pictures meant for the social media post-wedding posts, and of course one of the most important one: first look by the beautiful open courtyard.

And this will not only be captured by a camera, but also get witnessed by both yours and Abel's parents, alongside some extended family. And you're not sure your acting is good enough to fake a surprised smile in front of a crowd, and you're not sure he'll even cooperate.

The staff stops by an open door heading towards the courtyard and gestures at you to continue walking. Already, you can see Abel out there, standing a few yards away facing the other side. And behind him is a crowd. There are a lot of cameras surrounded by big lighting rings, your father standing beside them with your mother on his arm, his parents chatting happily before glancing at you, and some of your extended family.

Your heart beats wildly as you take slow steps outside, all while trying to will yourself into looking like a happy bride.

After a cue from the main photographer, Abel turns towards you, and you can only hope the resentment on both of your faces aren't too obvious to be noticed by anyone.

.