Adrian's POV
"When did you last have the nightmare?" the therapist asked, holding a red office pen and a journal.
"Yesterday," I replied.
"I feel the nightmare is related to your past. You spoke about being locked up in prison for a crime you didn't commit, and also being deceived by someone called Elena."
"Please don't say that name," I pleaded in annoyance. I never want to hear it.
"I can sense some hatred here, Adrian." She said.
I rolled my eyes; of course, it's hatred.
"The nightmare was different," I said, trying to recall what happened last night.
"Tell me about it." She was eager to know.
"I woke up breathing heavily and sweating profusely. In the nightmare, still in the prison being beaten up by bullies, I was severely injured, but unlike other nightmares, the beating was never intense; however, last night I was stabbed," I replied.
I tried to hide my fear and keep it cool around her, not trying to expose much, but it always seemed like I was a mirror, and the therapist could see right through me.
Ever since I came back from prison, I have been having nightmares of what I went through in the past. I haven't recovered from it, and it caused a huge scar and trauma.
I was advised to go for therapy, and here I am. I remember when an old man visited me in prison and told me he was my grandfather. I was surprised because I knew I was an orphan and had no one. I had a difficult time believing the man, but he started showing up more, spending time with me at the prison.
He even sent me a cake for my birthday, which I found crazy and nice at some point. He was so loving towards me. He was able to get me out of prison within four months of my stay there. I had no idea what type of connection that was but I was grateful he was able to get me out so early since I was sentenced to ten years imprisonment.
He erased every of my records, remodeled me, gave me hope and a new life.
Forever, I would be grateful to him.
"Adrian, I feel you are still holding on to your past; your anger is holding you down, and you have to let it go, it is destroying you. What happened is a lot, but for your own well-being, you have to learn to forgive. I know it's difficult, but you have to; it's a journey to inner peace," the therapist advised.
"Forgive?" I smirked. I was already pissed.
"If you get to meet Elena, what would you do?" she asked.
"I'll kill her," I replied, sharply staring right into her eyes, all cold and dead. I heard my timer beep; it was time for me to leave the place.
I stood up, adjusted my suit, and walked out. I walked over to my car. A notification popped up on my phone. It was from my secretary reminding me I have a blind date since my grandpa said I can never be his successor without getting married and having kids of my own.
He started acting distant and mean towards me. Sometimes, he won't speak to me and completely ignore me for days.
The only time I get to hear his voice was during public events or meetings. I was still young, twenty-four, and marriage was the last thing on my mind. After what Elena did, I vowed never to fall in love with anybody again. I had forgotten how to love; every love I had in me had turned to hatred.
I started developing hate towards women; their presence would disgust me. At some point all the workers I personally interviewed and employed into the organization were male. Grandpa had to step in; he got suspicious and was able to find out half of the secret I kept hidden.
He found out about my trauma, and since then I have been attending therapy twice a month. I got into my car and drove off.
The question the therapist asked resurfaced again.
"If you get to meet Elena, what would you do?"
Would I actually kill her? Of course I will; I even hope she's dead. I really loved her so much, and I would do anything just to make her happy. Is it those times I would always give her my lunch, protect her from bullies, and even pay for her school fees because I worked part-time? There is nothing I haven't done for Elena, but look what I got in return.
Betrayal!!!
I became mean and hateful towards women, not only them but also others. I had issues trusting people or even associating with them. I had no friends, just work, work, and work. If my blind date gets successful, I really feel pity for the woman; it would be a loveless marriage. She would probably run away and demand a divorce. I don't care; at least I did what Grandpa wanted, and he would back off.
I finally got to the restaurant.
I saw my date looking tired and frustrated. I had a talent for being the most annoying and frustrating being on earth. I was two hours late.
"You are late," she pouted.
"You could have left," I replied casually.I really didn't like her; merely looking at her, she looked proud and materialistic. Her bag and jewelry were all designer brands.
"I'll just get the menu," she said holding the menu tightly in her hands. She ordered the most expensive food on the menu, which would cost about nine hundred thousand dollars. I guessed it.
"Aren't you going to eat?" she asked. I just stared right back at her. Her food came, and she began to dig in like a Wolf. Everything she did was disgusting.
I would complain in my mind when I saw her taking each bite. One thing really turned me off, and I couldn't take it. She lacked some table manners; all the oils from the food spilled onto her shirt.
Her mouth was a leaking tap. I stood up and was about to walk away, abandoning my date for the twentieth time.
"Where are you going? she asked with food stuffed in her mouth.
Are you kidding me?
"Restroom," I replied, acting like a gentleman, but I was a devil in a suit. I walked to the restroom to finally receive some fresh air.
I looked into the mirror and saw a grown-up man. I would remember when I was in high school, how I would always pray, hoping to become a man, a successful one, and here I am. I would always dream of Elena by my side with two kids running around the mansion.
I was just been delusional, reality is tough.
I finally stepped out. I paid for the food she ordered and I left quietly—no drama.
I got home later in the day and was welcomed by the housekeeper.
"The chairman wants to see you at the garden," she said and bowed before walking away. I hurried back to my room to change into something more comfortable. I walked to the garden.
I saw my grandpa with his glasses, reading his newspapers as always—old people and newspapers.
"Grandpa," I called. He turned towards me.
"I heard about your blind date, how you left the poor woman alone and even arrived two hours late."
"Ohhh," it escaped my mouth.
"Adrian," he called.
"Yes, Grandpa." He held onto his walking stick and brought out an envelope; it looked beautiful on the outside. It looked like an invitation, maybe to a party.
I took it and was shocked. The envelope fell out of my hands as it was a wedding invitation. I saw my name written boldly and someone else's name. My grandpa had already planned a wedding ceremony and I was not even involved in the process.
"Prepare for marriage. Roseline is ready," he said. I stared at him dumbfounded.
ELENA's POV
Marry that thing? Why would my stepmom agree to such a thing? I can't get married now; I am not ready. I am still in my youthful days, and I just want to have fun. I really
can't deal with the thoughts of getting married to Adrian.
I just hate him so much; I wish the ground could swallow me up and never bring me out.
I stood before the mirror, my eyes widening in wonder as I gazed at my reflection. The delicate lace and intricate beading of the wedding dress sparkled in the soft light, shimmering like diamonds against the ivory fabric.
The dress really accentuated my curvy figure. I was beautiful, and sincerely, wearing a wedding dress now was never on my list. I remembered when I made a promise to Adrian that he would be the one I would get married to. I missed him, though, and wondered if he was doing great in prison. But right now I am being forced into an arranged marriage with a man I hate so much.
My stepmom walked closer to me and placed a hairpin on my bed.
"It belongs to your mother," she said. A tear dropped from my eyes; is it a tear of joy or sadness? I had no idea, but all I know is I am in an arranged marriage, and I don't love the man, but I still wish my mother was here to walk me down the aisle.
"Don't let it drop; you'll ruin your makeup," she said as she held me tight. "I am so happy for you," she added, looking so happy and joyful. At some point, people would even think she is the one getting married; she looked happier than I did.
I entered the car; my wedding gown flowed effortlessly around me. The intricate details of the dress sparkled in the dim light of the car, catching the eye with every movement. Its beauty and elegance couldn't be ignored.
We finally arrived at the venue; it was filled with few people, mostly influential men and women with few famous journalists ready to make all the events newsworthy and release them to the public.
Damn, it's official.
Let's just get this over with and go to the ceremony. Grandpa walked me down the aisle, and I stood in front of the altar with the priest. But there was one crazy thing, Adrian was not here. His grandpa, getting furious and tired, whispered to someone.
"Call him again," he paced to and fro. He was in chaos inside, but he hid it very well on the outside.
After waiting for thirty-nine minutes, the door finally opened, and Adrian walked in. He strode confidently towards the altar, his tailored suit accentuating his broad shoulders.
The dim lighting highlighted his sharp jawline, ,his piercing hazel eyes wasn't left out .Every head turned, drawn to his commanding presence. His dark hair was perfectly styled, and a fake, smirk played on his lips as he made his way through the crowd. The tailored fit of his suit showcased his physique, revealing an air of sophistication and elegance.
As he moved, his presence kept on drawing admiring glances from all directions. Stop staring at my man I thought.
He was really handsome, and that was the first time I saw his full face; at the time we met, he was masked. But somethijg doesn't feel right, he looked so familiar. My heart raced.
Could he be the one? No, he is in prison, I kept reminding myself. The priest finally spoke.
"Do you, Mr. Adrian Ethan Vernon?" I heard those names; it rang a bell, and I finally knew my gut was right. It was him.
I dropped the ring in my hand in shock and began to move backward in fear. Everyone stared at me, Adrian was confused with the sudden change. I kept moving backward, away from him, I was scared and frightened. I had no idea I wws close to the wedding cake and I fell on it.
It was embarrassing, everyone gasped and throw journalist kept taking pictures, I could hear murmurs and whispers from various angles everything was getting blurry and I was surrounded by the destroyed cake.
Adrian stood casually; it felt like he was holding something in his hands and was about to hurt me badly.
The nightmares I had always had were replaying in my mind.
A tear dropped, and I had no idea. I was panicking and fidgeting so badly that, before I knew it, I fainted. Adrian was not in prison; he is the one I was getting married to.