"How could you!?" she screamed. The windows cracked at the sound of her high-pitched voice. Her chocolate brown eyes, which often exhibited sweetness, were now burning with fury. Clara took a few steps back and shielded her face with her arms, as though her mother would dare to strike her own daughter.

"Do you not know how much effort I put into raising you, Clara? Every single drop of sweat, every single teardrop, I shed for you! And this is how you repay me: by fooling around with the son of your father's murderer! I didn't work to the bone for you to do this!" she shouted. Her bony fingers grabbed the nearest object, a porcelain flower vase, and hurled it at Clara's face. It ricocheted off her thin forearms and shattered on the floor. The sound of fine china smashing into smithereens echoed off the walls. Clara's mother gave one last glare before she stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind her. Clara picked up the pieces of porcelain, weeping as she did so, and disposed of them. It wasn't her fault that she didn't know that her lover had such a connection to such a man.

She remembered how it all began. It was her first week at university, and she had never felt so clueless in her life. Seniors and sophomores flooded the campus, sporting spirit wear and carrying tote bags on their shoulders. Professors donning beige coats and silk scarves huddled in small groups, their arms folded over laptops and folders. They all went in different directions, but at least they knew where they were headed. Clara was lost. The corridors all seemed identical to her: off-white walls buried underneath posters and bulletin boards and metal signboards.

"Are you lost?" a voice asked. Clara glanced to her left. A young man with short, messy, copper hair and honey brown eyes stood next to her.
"Y-yes, I'm lost. I can't find lecture hall 2C and I'm supposed to be there in ten minutes," she replied.
"Oh, really? That's where I'm going!" he said. He made a slight movement with his head and told her, "Let's look for it together."

They walked side by side as they roamed around the building. Clara held the strap of her backpack with one hand and let the other hand swing freely.

"What course are you taking?" he asked.
"I'm taking civil engineering," she answered him, "and you?"
"I'm taking it too! I was actually thinking of taking a music course instead but then I realized that it would be better if I kept it as a hobby."
"Music, huh? What instruments can you play?"
"Quite a few. I can play the piano, a bit of violin, and last year I took up guitar lessons. I plan to learn drumming next month," he said casually.
"Well, I can play all the instruments you mentioned. I also used to be part of a band when I was in high school."
"Cool! I was part of one too, but I left because it took too much of my time. The lead vocalist was also rather mean."
"I was the lead singer of my band," Clara told him.
"But you don't look mean," he smiled. A rosy pink tint colored her fair cheeks. After their short walk, they had reached the door to the lecture hall. He opened it and gestured with one hand.
"Ladies first," he said. She muttered a soft "thanks" before she entered the room. He followed closely behind her.
"What's your name? I'm Stefan," he introduced himself. He held out his hand.
"I'm Clara. Nice to meet you," she said, shaking his hand.

And that was how it started. Who knew that seven years down the road, Clara and Stefan would graduate cum laude, land jobs in reputable companies, and eventually get engaged? It would've been the perfect romance, if it was not marred by the fact that their fathers had bad blood between them (to the point of one assassinating the other).

The phone rang. Clara picked it up, trying to hold back her sobs.

"Hello?"
"Stefan? Listen," she choked a little, "we cannot be together."
"Why? Did your mother find out? Wait... Clara... are you okay?" he inquired. She nodded her head, though she knew he couldn't see her.
"Listen, Stefan. As much as I love you, I cannot be with you. My mother will never want it."
"But I'm not like my father. Have you told your mother that?"
"She wouldn't listen. You know how unforgiving she is. If you're related to someone she loathes, she will loathe you too."
"Then we have no choice but to elope," he spoke. She shuddered.
"Surely, Stefan, you're not saying that I can leave her?" she asked.
"You're a grown woman, Clara! You should be able to choose whoever you want to love. You're not a little girl whose decisions should be made by her mother, and if she still treats you like one, that ain't right."
"Even if I choose to follow you, where can we go?"
"I know where. Meet me at the park near my house, and pack all your things. We're leaving tonight," he told her. She uttered a short "okay" and hung up. She opened her luggage and began to stuff it with her things.

***

The cold wind blew gently. Clara wrapped her scarf around her neck and nestled her suitcase between her feet. She had been waiting in front of the park's iron gates for almost an hour, yet no sign of him had appeared. The low rumble of an engine hummed loudly from a distance. Soon, a silver car halted in front of her. Clara placed her luggage in the trunk, boarded the vehicle, and rode away. Stefan was sitting next to her. He clasped his warm hands over hers and gazed into her eyes. Usually, words would be exchanged between them, but silence prevailed that night. They sat still and quiet as they were driven to their destination.

A chapel. Of course—where else could their wedding take place? Stefan led his bride-to-be to the ladies' room, where a long lace wedding gown was hiding. He changed into his black-tie suit whilst waiting for her to don her dress. It took a while, and when she stepped out of the chamber to reveal her new look, he gasped—she was stunning. The shape of her dress emphasized her slenderness, and her bright blue eyes seemingly glowed under her veil. He took her by the arm and led her down the aisle of the chapel. A normal wedding would have several guests, including friends and family, but that night the only person besides the bride and groom was an officiating minister.

It was meant to be a quick and simple ceremony. It hadn't been twenty minutes when the two had already exchanged their vows. And finally, the minister spoke the dreaded words,

"Is there anyone who opposes this marriage?"

The sound of a door swinging open echoed throughout the chapel.

"I do," said a voice. Clara's eyes widened at the sight of her mother, standing at the doorway with a pistol in her hand. Then Clara remembered: her mother installed a tracker in her phone. Clara's mother raised her gun at the bridegroom.
"Step aside, Clara," she warned. Her daughter did not obey. Clara stepped to her left and blocked the gun from aiming at Stefan.
"If you want him, you have to go through me."
"What on Earth are you doing? Do you not know what his father did to..."
"He is not his father!" Clara bellowed. Her defiant tone shocked those around her. She went on, "You only judge him because of the faults that another committed. But this man is the love of my life, and I will not let anyone step in the way of our love... including you."

Her mother stood speechless. For a moment it seemed that she must allow the union to happen. She held the gun shakily, her eyes filling with tears.

"I warned you."

Bang! Bang! Bang! Three gunshots rang loudly in the air. Three bodies collapsed to the ground and bled heavily, leaving a pool of crimson red. Clara's mother fell to her knees and buried her face in her hands. She would've let them be, if her husband did not make her promise to kill their child if she ever got involved with his rival's son.