Chapter One

It's a cruel way to live, to not only sacrifice your pride and endure a pitying lifestyle, but to enforce it upon others, to make them feel guilty about living as they do.  

One could wait a thousand years to find the happiness that could be unsuppressed in a few moments, if only they would just appreciate living.

To seek joy without judgement.

To hide without wanting.

To not see yourself without really seeing.

I see you.

Tomorrow you'll look in the mirror and see a failure, a cheat, a liar, a woman who married a man for his wealth, or a man who can't wait for the day he jumps off the ledge of a building because he can't support his family.

Pride? Is that pride?

Nevertheless, I see you.

I see you because I am you. I see you because I have spent my entire nineteen years of living, of breathing, of existing, running away from my own fate. Of reducing my pride, by wishing this future of mine on some other poor girl who doesn't deserve the unfairness of it any more than I do.

And because of that, I know, I deserve it

I am cruel, and I am nasty, and I deserve what is coming to me, not because I don't want it to happen to me, but because I would gladly allow some other woman to go through it instead.

So long as I don't have to, and that is what makes me disgusting.

I stepped into the bedroom, everything was lined with false gold. The furniture, which cost more than most could ever earn, sat elegantly around the room. The chairs and table were the colors of yellows and whites that were so light I've never seen anything brighter. The bed was magnificent, and looked like a cloud as it was more cotton and fur than actual bed.

I couldn't think about sleep right now, not when tonight is when my life will end.

The table was covered in food, more food than I have ever seen before. It was as if every holiday had spat out an entire dinner all at once. Christmas, so much Christmas, and Easter, and Halloween.

If I ate anything, my stomach would reject it.

"I'll start the bath for you." The maid who walked in beside me said, and another maid who was already waiting in the room bowed to me, as they both ran to the dramatically-large bathroom that was attached to the bedroom I stood in.

Moments later, I heard the bathwater running.

If I cried now, would they hear me?

If I cried now, would I even have any tears left to give?

I walked into the bathroom, where the maids immediately began to tear off my clothing and shove me into the steaming water in the tub.

My skin burned, as they scrubbed every inch of me and began to cover me in soaps and fragrances that only the wealthy can afford.

I was wealthy once.

Just as I began to be familiar with the temperature of the tub enough to tolerate is scalding heat, I was pulled out of the bath and into a number of cotton towels where I was patted dry, brought back into the bedroom.

It was lying on the bed.

I couldn't tear my eyes away from it, the very thing that will ruin my life forever.

I walked over to it, and gently touched the sleeve of a pure white, glittering and expensive wedding dress.

One of the maids picked it up, and said something I didn't catch to the other maid. I was so focused on the dress, it was as if they were both speaking a different language.

One of the maids touched my arm, and I was pulled back to reality.

"Are you ready to put it on?" She said with a smile, as she obviously thought the dress was beautiful.

That's the worst part, the dress is beautiful. In fact, it's the most divine wedding dress I have ever set my eyes upon. My parents went all out for this wedding, just like they always do.

But, if I had a choice in the matter, this wouldn't have been the dress that I'd have chosen. If I was given a choice, the dress wouldn't be white. If I was given a choice, I would pick feathers over flowers, and pearls over diamonds. If I was given a choice, I wouldn't choose a church to marry in, I'd do the wedding on the beach. If I was given a choice, I wouldn't get married in Seoul, or even Korea for that matter. If I was given a choice, I'd be in America right now, in love with an American man, with an American house, and an American job.

If I was given a choice, my parents would never see me again, and I'd be happy with living.

I took a deep breath, and slipped one foot into the dress, and then the other. The pulled the dress up over my body and tied it in the back. They began to fondle with my hair by brushing it and putting curls and flowers in it that I found to be repulsive.

This whole wedding is fake and repulsive.

I gazed at myself in the mirror once the maids were done. They both clapped with bright smiles on their faces as they kept telling me how beautiful I looked, and how whoever it was I was marrying was super lucky.

Why aren't they telling me I'm lucky? Shouldn't I be the lucky one? I don't feel lucky.

I turned away from the mirror, unable to see myself any longer than I have already.

The clock on the mantel read 1:32, and I knew if I didn't leave for the church now, I'd be late. My parents would kill me.

I was told there was a car waiting for me in the front of the hotel. We were to go straight to the church, where I meet my husband for the first time, and sign the marriage contract all while displaying a false smile and hold a sense of dignity.

The maids beckoned for me to leave as they caught the time, and rushed me out of the hotel room, all while I kept wishing I was bold enough to not show up to the wedding at all.