Husband dilemma
"Miss, will you cease your tears? Makeup cannot adhere to a wet canvas. Please, for a moment, let me attend to your hair or something. I need you to stop so I can work."
"I can't just stop, you don't get it. This pain needs to come out. I can't pretend everything is okay."
"I understand you're hurting, but I need you to trust that I'll make you look beautiful. Sometimes, a bit of transformation on the outside can help heal what's inside. Now, let's start with your hair, and maybe as we go along, you'll find a release."
"I don't know if this will help, but fine, let's start with the hair. Just do whatever you need to do."
The stylist continued crafting my hair, weaving her artistry while gently consoling my heart, attempting to coax laughter. Despite her efforts, the heaviness persisted. However, as she completed her preparations, I gazed into the mirror, and unexpectedly, a smile graced my face. Could it be true? Could this outward transformation have worked its magic on the turmoil within? It seemed, even for a moment, that the reflection staring back at me held a glimmer of healing and sweetness.
She opened the box, revealing a pristine white dress, not a gown, but a short, sleeveless masterpiece that clung to every curve, radiating undeniable beauty. Despite its revealing nature, it possessed a captivating allure. Was it too tight? Perhaps, but the allure was undeniable, and I found myself with no alternative. Did I have a choice? No, none at all. Resigned, I embraced my fate, slipping into the dress that painted my figure in a breathtaking silhouette. Completing the ensemble, I adorned myself with immaculate white heels, surrendering to the unfolding narrative of the day.
"Miss, you look stunning. I wish you all the best in this new chapter of your life."
"Thank you," I replied. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, and the air in my stomach grew colder. Unsure whether to feel joy for my wedding or sorrow for my perceived servitude, I hesitated. As the stylist opened the door, I didn't know how to face Baris, and my anxiety lingered.
"Wow! You look amazing," a voice exclaimed, but it wasn't Baris. "Oh, thanks be to God," I sighed in relief, smiling as I greeted him with a slight bow. "Master Coj."
"No, dear, you can call me Grandpa now," he said, embracing me. Despite his dangerous aura, his kindness and genuine intentions were evident. He explained that he would escort me to the court, where I would meet my husband. The term "husband" felt strange, not because I was unfamiliar with the concept, but because the person he referred to seemed otherworldly, possessing behaviors from both angelic and demonic realms. How could I call him a husband?
He offered me his hand, leading me to the car – a silver-black Tesla Model S. I was mesmerized by this electric luxury sedan's sleek design, and its advanced features displayed high technology in how the door opened. As I entered, my eyes widened in shock at the shape of the steering wheel – clean, multifunctional, and uniquely designed. When it started, the car accelerated from zero to sixty mph in just a few seconds. How amazing! For the first time, I saw something expensive that is not overrated.
As we continued the journey, Mr. Coj kept encouraging me to enter this new chapter of life with confidence and wisdom. He also mentioned that he was looking forward to seeing his mixed grandchildren soon. Well, I can only imagine how beautiful the children will look, but I didn't dare to imagine how to conceive them. Yes, marriages are very important in Africa, and children are even more crucial. The only successful marriage in Africa is one with children. So, I grew up knowing that the most important aspect of marriage is to bear children. Failure to do so leads to destruction, and the most significant consequences affect the woman. That is just one thing; another crucial achievement of marriage from where I come from is to have a male child. Without a male child, no matter how many girls you bear, you will still face consequences, just like those who do not have children.