#Chapter 3

Amara's POV;

We entered my enormous bedroom, and my mom came with me to start packing some of my belongings. She reminded me that the Briggs family was well-off and that I did not need to worry about organizing and packing everything I owned, so she did not want me to carry all my loads.

By one in the morning, we had packed every box, and my mom was worn out. "I have to go back to my room to meet your father," she said, stretching and yawning. "Good night, my dear princess."

"All right, Mom, but this marriage still does not make me happy. Could you please talk to my father about this again?" My mother was the one I asked. My blue-shaded eyes, which shimmer with hope at her agreement, are fixed on her face.

"No, Amara. I want to marry you, so that I can have a grandchild. I am unable to discuss this with your father once more.My mother comforted me, "Do not worry, I will be calling you occasionally to see how you are doing when you get to the city." Tears welled up in my eyes.

I am not sure why moving to the city and getting married did not make me happy. My dream has always been to wed a good-looking man. I was afraid and felt anxious all the time, but I wanted a good man.

"Mom, what if the man does not like me?" I questioned. I have never seen him before, and I do not know him. He should have been here since I was already married to him and before I knew it, if he really wanted me."

"Well, once he sees you, he will love you." "This was an agreement between your father and his father, I do not know if his father had told him. The ideal situation would be for you to treat him like a good wife and to keep up your at-home training. I am aware that adjusting to your new home and your spouse's lifestyle during the first year of marriage can be challenging. As you are aware, he is not present with us and was raised in the city. However, I have no doubt that he will adore you greatly." I disagree with my mother's advice to stay positive and stay away from negativity.

"Mom, what if he already has a woman in his life?" I asked her. I know these city men all look like nymphs. When I was at school, they looked at me as though they wanted to devour my pure form. I was there. The idea of returning to the city is not one that I particularly enjoy. "This is where I want a man!" Once more, I objected.

"You are not like this, my princess. Do not worry; since his father would have told him about you, I doubt he would be in a relationship. You should be at ease because he is your spouse. Come on, now, and settle in for a restful sleep. Tomorrow, you have a long way to travel," My mother came to me once more and led the way to my room's bed.

Once again, I went to my bathroom to urinate. I assumed my mother had gone back to her room when I left my bedroom, but she was still there when I stepped out of the restroom. She was waiting for me to cuddle up on the bed like I was her little child.

Knowing I would miss the cozy warmth of my parents' house the next day, my mother gently covered me with the bedcover as I slowly fell asleep. I would be visiting a man I have never met before at his home. I have no knowledge of them. I pondered whether he would welcome me or eject me, reminding me that he had never visited my family's home to propose marriage.

These are all ideas that keep coming to mind. On the other hand, I saw a man in my dream. He is quite tall. He looked at me curiously, his tall, good-looking features hidden from my view. I had the impression that I had seen him before.

He came over and drew me into an embrace, but I could not tell if he was my husband even though I tried to look into his face. It was my mother in my room when I woke up.

"Amara, are you still sleeping?" ""Rise; the hour is nearly six a.m." I yawned and stretched, carefully sitting up on the bed as my mother came to pull the curtains in my room.

"Good morning, Mom," I said to her as soon as I got out of bed.

"Go take a bath as soon as possible, My sweet pie." "Let me go to make your breakfast; the car driver will be here soon," my mother said, hurrying out of my bedroom. I was not going to get another chance to object from her.

I let out a sigh and headed to my bathroom for a quick, revitalizing dip. My mother had picked out a yellow dress for me to wear, and when I emerged from the bathroom, I discovered that my two large boxes of clothes had already been taken out of my room.

My mother prioritized picking out a yellow dress because I was not good with fashion. People would turn to look at her again because of her impeccable sense of style. That, I believe, was the strategy my mother employed to win my father over. Though I was too local to be deemed fashionable, she had an impeccable sense of style and a formidable appearance.

Why should I dress sexily to attract a man when I am already cute? My favorite dresses are baggy ones that cover up all of my curves and shapes. To put it briefly, I will purchase the dress when I visit the market to choose it.

I detested it when guys would stare at me after I went to school in the city, so I bought a loose-fitting dress that would cover up all of my curves and big breasts and only be too tall for me.

Being cute does not make me happy. I recalled one of my roommates telling me that I could be the ideal seductress and that if I wore a seductive dress, I would win the president's son over.

No, I just want to look respectable and not overly dramatic. I do not really like being the center of attention because it makes me feel weak and like one of those predatory men could kidnap me at any time.

With a sigh, I patted my damp body dry. After applying s my orange cream to my skin, I picked up the yellow dress and put it on. At last, my mom came back into my bedroom.