“You are beautiful. You are strong. You are awesome. You are tough, you are the student body president,” I say the last bit in a low tone and laugh. “You are a smart, fierce female.”

I should be proud of myself and ignore my husband’s treatment of me. I am tough, the first female student body president my school has had in the last thirty years, it’s a big feat. I shouldn’t mind my husband’s dislike of virgins. He’s a monster.

As I murmur these words to myself in front of the long, standing mirror in our matrimonial bedroom, an invisible cloak settles on my shoulder. Even if it’s only for a moment, I feel better than I did earlier. Stronger.

Though my eyes are puffy from letting my emotions get the best of me but it is nothing a little makeup cannot fix. I lick my parched lips, I have a bad habit of biting them when I’m nervous. My reflection flashes me a fake smile with her hands going to her waist as she strikes a pose in her body-hugging gown that reveals even the contour of her belly button. I wink at her.

The top two buttons of the navy blue gown are down to reveal more than a decent amount of cleavage and her hair is swept up in a half-up, half-down hairstyle. The hair is away from my face as I like it and is also down, the way Brandon likes it.

Giving myself a mental kick, I remind my twin image in the mirror I did not dress up in my most provocative gown for Brandon neither did I style my hair this way for him. I am doing it for myself, yes, for myself first before him or anyone else.

My shoulder sags, I stare harder at myself in the mirror, maybe that’s a lie. I have not put on any lipstick yet because I don’t know his favourite colour, that’s if he has one. I don’t have any, I believe all colours have a role to play and should be loved equally.

The ringtone of my new iPhone, the first of many gifts that came from Brandon before the wedding cuts through my thoughts and I happily leave the mirror. Standing there didn’t do as much good for me as it usually did. Speaking to myself in front of a mirror before a big day has always had this magical effect on me. Except for today.

I panic and drop the phone when I see who’s calling: Clarissa. It’s not just any call, it’s a video call. Thankfully, my feet cushion the fall and I pick it up to see the screen is free from any cracks. I do not want my husband to have any other reason to dislike me more than he already does.

Clarissa doesn’t know I’m married, no one in school knows just yet and I hope I can keep it that way. I have only one more semester to go and it will be bye-bye university, welcome to real life.

“Bitch, where have you been? You went MIA on me,” Clarissa shouts as soon as my finger hits the receiver button. “Ouuuu, I like me some hot, sexy, black girl, who are we seducing tonight?” she says with a whistle.

A laugh escapes my lips, the sound causing her to laugh along. Clarissa is the only one who makes the word black sounds like a title, she has taught me to embrace my skin the same way she loves her Asian eyes.

“No one,” I murmur.

“Don’t you dare lie to me, lady,” she starts, “I can see right through you and I know you are avoiding my question. Where are you?”

“Clary.”

“No, no, no, no, no,” she cuts me off, “you are prepping for a lie, ain’t you?” Her eyes fill my screen and her voice reduces to a whisper, “Bitch, please. Don’t you dare lie to me.”

“Yes, bitch,” I reply and laugh out loud.

The word bitch coming from her sounds sexy, she’s the only one who’s allowed to call me that and many other names. I do the same too. We are that close, not just roommates, roommates and best friends.

When her full face appears back on my screen, I smile as she plays with a lock of her jet black, straight hair. “Clary, I’ll tell you everything when I get back next week.”

She doesn’t need to know I am in the same city with her and I didn’t travel to South Africa like I told her. We have always talked about how we wanted our weddings to be, the roles she will play and I could not bear the thought of inviting her to a wedding with a man I do not love.

“Fine, suit yourself,” she mumbles. I can already picture her giving me the silent treatment for a whole day when she finds out I lied to her. She doesn’t take kindly to liars, all thanks to a scumbag of an ex.

A notification pops up on my screen, I bite my lips and look down. “What’s it?”

“My parents are calling,” I answer.
“Put them on,” Clary says and I shake my head with my eyes nearly falling out of their sockets. They will most definitely talk about my marriage. “Come on now, I haven’t seen them in ages. I miss them.”

We have a cordial relationship with each other’s parents and when they had asked me why Clarissa was absent for the wedding, I had sprung up a lie. All I had done during that period was lie and make up more lies for my friends, parents and anyone who questioned my behaviour.

“Are you okay?” Clary asks and I nod. “If you don’t want me to speak to them, it’s fine but make sure to extend my greetings, okay?”

“Clary...” I trail off.

“It’s fine,” she continues, “you promise to tell me everything when you get back?” I nod, I will give her every single, little detail. “I’m okay with that, be good.”

The screen of my phone goes black after we exchange our goodbyes and I smile sadly to myself, sometimes I think I don’t deserve her. She gives so much of herself into our friendship and the best I can do is repay her with lies and exclusion from my wedding. To think I call her my best friend.

Ma’s face comes on my screen, chasing away the lingering feeling of guilt and a scream from her has me buttoning up my gown. She’s big on decency and doesn’t give a damn about my age. I’m still her baby.

I roll my eyes, greet her and ask of Pa.

“He’s fine, he went out,” she says, her eyes twinkle and I laugh, she always acts like a newly married at the mention of Pa. “How’s Brandon? I’m loving my new phone.”

Brandon bought a new phone for all of us, the only reason I started using it was because my old Samsung thought it a good idea to stop working and also because of my parents. They had no hesitations accepting their future son-in-law’s gift, they love him.

“He’s fine too,” I lie. I haven’t seen him since our early morning fiasco and I have not left the room. I’m not sure I want to see him.

“Did he like our gift?”

I chuckle at the excitement in her voice, it was her idea to get him something in return after all he has spent on us. “Not yet.”

“What do you mean?” She frowns. “It’s either he likes it or he doesn’t, which one?”

“Ma,” I whine and pout, “not yet because I have not given him. We were too tired last night, there was no time for gifts.”

Her face brightens up and she jumps from the stool she’s sitting on. She took the bait like I expected. “I get it. How was it?”

“Ma!” I will not discuss my inexistent sexual life with Ma no matter how close we are.

The door creaks. “I think he’s back.”

“Alright, moghel,” I laugh at her wrong usage of the South African slang which loosely translates to homegirl. I am not her homegirl, I am her daughter, her baby.

“Let me leave you then. Ndiyakuthanda.”

“I love you too, Ma,” I reply and end the call.

No sound comes from the door again and I chuck it up to my imagination. I walk back to the bed and plop on it with the silver necklace in my grasp. My fingers stop on the half heart pendant that reads: El.

The other half that’s hidden somewhere inside my box has Brand written on it and if I join the two together, they will form a full heart. I am not sure I want him to have it, I don’t know if I will ever get to wear mine.

Ma and I had been excited to make the twin necklaces but now I am filled with only uncertainties. I shove the necklace under the pillow when the door opens without notice, doing my best to act normal.

“What are you hiding?” Brand asks with his eyes darting between me and the pillow.

“Nothing,” I reply and sit up, going on to add, “where have you been?”

“Work. I missed you.”

Married to a man who thinks my virginity a sin, his words come as a surprise to me and I have trouble answering him. I missed him, too much. Our squabble didn’t change that. My mouth parts open, no words depart from me and I close it to avoid looking foolish.

Silence lends volume to his words. “I was at work and all I could think of was you.” My heart thumps my chest, I can barely make out his words when his his lips start moving again. “How was your day? Did you miss me?”

My head bobs so fast and hard, my mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, this conversation has rendered me speechless and we haven’t gotten started yet. He cocks his head, I lick my lips, forcing the words out.

“Yeah, I did,” I let out in a whisper. Rubbing my clammy fingers over my gown, I pull on a loose thread. “My day was okay, I missed you too.”

“Good cos I couldn’t stop thinking of you.”

One look at him in his well-tailored suit and my thoughts evaporate, I swallow. Too bad he is a human edible I cannot have. Or, can I? My heart flutters, he hasn’t left my mind either but he is giving me mixed signals.

Brandon dumps his jacket on a stand I didn’t notice earlier, struts to the bed and makes himself at home beside me. I shift to create distance between us but he covers it and clamps a hand around my wrist to stop my next attempt at running. What does he want?

My back connects to the headboard, he palms my cheeks with his thumb caressing my lips and I forget what it means to breathe. My traitorous tongue darts out to wet his fingertip, he smirks and the throbbing between my legs intensifies.

“You look good,” he whispers into my ear. I moan, this isn’t working. The hands I place on his chest to push him away turns into jelly, I lean into him and my head falls back when he nibbles on my earlobe. He tugs on the ribbon holding my hair, my curls tumble down my chest and he smiles. “Even better now.”

“Thanks,” I manage to say. “You look good-”

The speech I gave myself about not touching him fly out the window when he places a kiss on my lips, swallowing the rest of my words and I slip my arms around his neck to stop him from pulling away. His tongue thrusts into my mouth as a moan escapes me and our tongue fights for dominance which he asserts. Our kiss grows heated as he alternates between pinching my nipples and rubbing the entrance of my core through the front of my gown, I growl as waves of pleasure crash over me.

Heat builds up in my belly, I curse myself for listening to Ma as Brandon’s wandering hands squeeze my breasts. I want him, skin to skin. Still, I follow his lead. Smiling internally when he places my hand on his shirt, I unbutton his shirt slowly and a moan slips past my lips as he pinches my nipples.

My hands come in contact with rock hard chest, going to squeeze one of his nipples. I smile in confidence as he moans just a little, grateful for his cooperation as I help him out of his shirt.

Emboldened by his silence, I lift myself to place a kiss on his lips, then another on his collar, hoping to explore other parts of his body with my eager mouth. But his addictive lips draws me back in, it starts off as a chaste kiss which deepens into something less innocent. I pull away for us to catch our breaths with my hands hanging from his shoulders and our foreheads touch, I want my first time to be memorable.

Soft, slow, gentle and passionate.

“Found it,” Brandon says, leaving me to wonder what he is talking about as my eyes focus on his swollen lips. Mine must be that way too.

My thoughts come crashing to a pause at the sight of the necklace in his hands. When our gazes meet, I am drawn in by the barely concealed lust in those eyes. I want him too.

“This isn’t nothing,” he says.

He lifts it so I can also see it, squinting to read what is written on the pendant. The switch goes off in my head, I try to pry it from him but it’s of no use.

“Who gave you this?”

Anger laces his voices, lashes out at me and I grow wary. This man will be hard to please.

“It’s a gift.” His eyebrow shoots up, I hug myself and rock from side to side. “A wedding present from us,” I continue, “from the bride and her family to you.”

He takes one long look at the necklace and I wait for his verdict. “Bought with whose money?”

His questions demands an answer, a truthful answer. I breathe out, “Yours.”

Disgust spreads all over his face, taints his voice. He scoffs, I recoil when he says, “Since it’s my money you used, are you allowed to call it a gift?”

The words to defend myself die in my mouth, my breath hitches in my throat. Brandon has been taking care of all our expenses, even placed Pa on a salary since he can’t work. Pa told me all about this on my wedding eve, in addition to being nice to my husband because he is a good man.

Dangling it in front of me, he asks, “Is this still considered a gift?” My heart thumps. “It’s still my money.”

Words have power, I am sure he knows that and his callous self has mastered the act of breaking people with his words. He didn’t have to remind me of where I am coming from, I know why I am here, why we are married. My eyes moisten with unshed tears but I don’t let them fall, neither do I tell him I never wanted anything to do with him in the first place, he is the one who took advantage of Pa’s situation and forced marriage on me. I should be under the covers with my best friend, binge watching animations of her choices. Unmarried and happy.

When I think he is done, he continues, “I hate gifts but I hate jewellery even more.” I nod. “Don’t repeat this mistake.”

Closing my eyes to stop the tears threatening to fall, I murmur, “I’m sorry.”

My eyelids flutter open, I find him staring at me and my heart clenches. This is the man I am expected to spend the rest of my life with. I offer him a shaky smile and motion for him to hand me the jewellery, if he doesn’t want it, I’ll give it out. To someone who understands giving is all about the intentions behind the gift.

He pulls me up instead and says, “Lunch is downstairs.”