C8 The Legal Papers

He bends down and picks up the file folder from the bed. He opens it and flips through some pages.

Creases form between his brows as he looks up, "I told you I need to submit them to the court today. It will take only few seconds of yours to sign them."

I understood who he is. He is Samara's father. I can now observe the resemblance of his features with hers. Samara inherited most of the features except the hair color from her father. His hair color is more like dark chocolates.

"You told me you'll sign them once you'll be free. That's why I've sent Sara away. But these papers are still blank."

He brings the file in front of my face and takes out the pen from his suit's front pocket, "Just do it. Lawyer is waiting outside."

I fist my palms, clutching my dress with them. "I'll d-o later." I slur.

"Are you kidding me?" His brows lift up, "I told you lawyer is outside. I need to hand over this to him. Come on, Samara. We're getting late."

Another round of panic sweeps through me. I'm out of ideas. I don't know what are these papers. I can't even forge Samara's signature. Damn, what's just wrong with him.

He is looking impatient and persistent, indicating that he is not going to make any adjustments. Then what should I do now? Samara didn't give me any instruction about these papers.

Hobsons will kill me for this deception. If I would refuse to sign he will get suspicious and maybe ask me to show my face.

"Samara?" He contorts his face in disbelief.

Both father and daughter are a pain. They are alike. They are good at pressurizing people. My legs tremble.

He tries to look at me closely. I see his eyes narrowing as he tries read my face. I get intimidated and quickly take the file and pen from him.

"Fine." I say. He shifts his eyes on the file.

I can no more fight against them. I give up. Without reading or even looking at the text of the document, I scrawl my signature at the required places. I swiftly close the folder once I'm done before he could see my signature and return it to him.

God knows what is going to happen after the mistake I deliberately and consciously committed. Later on they shouldn't blame me if my signature causes some problem for them. It is Samara's father's fault. He left me no choice. I can't believe I signed some random papers under my name.

I'm leaving one clear evidence behind that can send me to prison. One fraud after another.

I'm not even getting anything in return for helping a woman who I have met just twice. These rich people can use their power over anyone especially people like me who can be easily scared.

"Thanks. I'll be back." He gives me small smile, "Then we'll leave."

He sprints out of the room. I again take my phone and call Samara to tell her about those papers and also ask how much more time she would take. Things are getting out of hands here.

Since today's day is full of misfortunes, so my attempt fails. The call goes straight to voicemail.

I try calling her again. It rings, but she doesn't pick up. I want to strangle that woman right now. She wants to trap me as well with herself in this muddle.

"Let's go, darling."

I look up from my phone's screen. Her father comes back without that problematic folder. I compose myself.

"It's time, Samara." He touches his spectacles, stepping towards me.

Going to Church is an extreme step. I believed Samara would know that. She won't let that happen.

Exhaling out the aching breath, I adjust my veil in uneasiness. My legs continue shaking. I can't expose myself in front of the huge crowd when I'm in vulnerable state. There would be Samara's relatives, friends and many more other people who can detect the different face, hiding behind the veil.

Samara's father offers me his arm. Reluctantly, I link my arm with his, putting that papers' matter at the back of my mind because now I have a different and much bigger problem to deal with.

What if Samara won't be back on time?

What if she won't come back at all?

How in the world I would delay the wedding until her return?

These intimidating questions scare the hell out of me. By this time, at least I have understood her. She is no joke.