Am I Married?/C9 The Fake Bride
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Am I Married?/C9 The Fake Bride
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C9 The Fake Bride

As soon as I come out of the car, lights of cameras begin flashing on my face, hurting my eyes. My bare arms tremble every time someone clicks my picture. A group of reporters encircle me and Samara's father. Some young girls come forward and help me straightening my dress. They spread my long dress behind me on the ground.

"Congratulations, Sam. You finally made it." One of the girls whispers in my ear, making my blood run cold.

The other one giggles, "Your dress is beautiful."

My heart leaps into my throat as I observe my surrounding. Sun is almost setting. The sky is showing orangish-red hues, slowly increasing the brightness of the lanterns and other fancy lights. Many posh cars are parked around the area – the kind of cars I had only seen on Google images. Reporters around me are congratulating me and wishing me a good married life. There are other people as well who are not reporters, but might be Samara's acquaintances. They are smiling and waving their hands at me.

Since my face is hidden, I don't have to worry about my facial expressions or concealing my frightened state. No one can see my pale, white face. One of the girls who helped me with my dress once again appears before me and offers me bouquet of white tulips. I quickly accept it. This veil is helping me. No one up till now has any doubts about me.

Samara's father, who is standing beside me, touches my arm, "Let's go." He by himself links my arm with his and slightly pulls me to walk forward. I let him use his strength because I can't walk on my own. My body is numb.

The moment I step into the Church, the crowd stands up from their chairs at once and applauds aloud for me. I start getting sweaty as fear spiked my insides, giving me a strong heartache. And the veil on my face further suffocates me.

The happy faces of the people sadden me because I'm deceiving them. I'm a fake bride. Everything is so whimsical, so dreamy, so beautiful around me, but the bride behind the veil is fake. She is fooling everyone. She is ruining the whole wedding.

I feel a pull on the bouquet I'm holding, bring me out of my thoughts. A strange woman smiles at me and takes away the flowers. I realize I already crossed the altar and now facing the large audience.

Samara's father also leaves my side.

Moving around, I look up at the man who is standing some steps away from me, smiling at me. My brows shoot up.

Wait. He is...

He is the same....tux man I met at the club?

My stomach churns. That face steals my remaining strength.

Those blueberry eyes, same perfume scent, same face, all hit my head like a sudden stone. He is the same man who spilled his drink on my blouse.

Overcame with fright and shock at the same time, my legs tremble, making me lose my balance. My butt is about to smack with the floor when Samara's groom quickly steps forward, grabs my arm and pulls me up. I stand straight again.

Worry flares on his face. "Are you okay?" I can still recall the same soft voice of him.

It means he is Ashar Hobsons – the younger son of Hobsons. I met Ashar that night.

His eyes narrow as he tries to look at my face. I quickly compose myself and step back, letting go of his grip on my arm. The frown on his face is replaced by confusion as he sees my reaction.

I can't pretend anymore. Samara should be back immediately now because my tolerance level has reached to its peak.

I had never thought I would meet with this man again like this – as his fake bride. My fate has pulled a prank with me. He has made this situation worse.

He is looking more handsome, more polished then that day at the club. He is in three piece suit; white smooth, cotton shirt, black coffee skinny pants and burgundy slim fit blazer. His face's fresh skin is gleaming under the bright lights. The masculine jawline looks sharper and firm. The color of his lips is rosy pink and his dark hair looks glossy.

I turn straight to avoid his penetrating gaze, facing the crowd. I feel his presence beside me, making my heart lurches in my chest. He is extra ordinarily tall for my 5'5 ft. height. Samara advised me to wear heels to save myself from people's suspicions.

"Sorry. I couldn't take your calls. I was busy with some work at office." He leans down, whispering in my ear...giving me chills.

Office? Who works at office on his own wedding day?

"But, why have you put that veil? I can't see your face. Is this one of your ways to punish me for ignoring your calls? I can't see whether you're angry or not."

I remember Samara saying she was trying to tell Ashar about her emergency, but he didn't answer her calls. If he would have just listened to what Samara wanted to say then I wouldn't have to be here. He himself devastated his own special day and made myself a victim too.

Happy smile is lingering on his mouth. He looks happy and relaxed, completely oblivious about what is happening to him. This man doesn't even know my name and I can bet he doesn't even remember our first encounter. So for him, I'm a complete stranger.

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