Sentence Me to Another Life
Dinner.
"George, this is Elizabeth."
The young woman who stood in front of me was a typical arranged wife. Big blue eyes along with thick brown hair piled onto her head; curves that would appeal to most men. But of course, not me.
She blushed and looked down, my father was telling me to kiss her hand with his gaze. I smiled, grabbed her tiny hand, and placed a kiss on the glove. "It is very nice to meet you, Elizabeth."
Red blossomed on her cheeks. "It is nice to meet you too, George."
"So," Father interjects. "Shall we eat?"
Elizabeth nods her head, the small smile gracing her lips still. From the corner of my eye, I see Thomas setting the table. My fake smile turns into a real one. His gaze catches mine, and he tries to hid his blush. But he looks back, almost spilling the wine because of me being a distraction.
I go and take me seat at the table; Thomas sill setting it. "Hello Thomas," I whisper.
"Sir," he whispers back. His hand lights the candle wicks.
"I told you not to call me sir. I am George; nothing more, nothing less." I placed a napkin in my lap.
"George," he laughs lightly. "I wish you a good evening." A beutiful smile graces his lips.
"And I wish you one as well."
}*{
Dinner was always full of small talk. Elizabeth and her mother were 'proper,' according to my father. What if I didn't want proper? All I knew was Thomas was in the other room cooking and I kept my eyes glued to the door.
"George?" Elizabeth whispered. "What is so interesting about that door?" Her voice trace concern.
"What?" I snapped my gaze from the entry. "Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about something."
I looked down at my plate. Dinner was cold, and I hadn't touched any of it.
God, George. What has love done to you? No wonder you are so skinny.
And with that, Thomas appeared. I beamed at him. "Thomas!" My father called. "What took you so long? Can you do anything right? Never keep guests waiting!"
With a gulp, he replied. "S-sorry, sir." He looked down at his tattered shoes. My father was too careless to notice the tears threatening to spill. He hid in the other room.
"Father," I stood up, putting my napkin on the table. "If you will excuse me, I will talk to Thomas about my undercooked food."
Father nodded, always approving of a whipping but never of a compliment.
Elizabeth burned holes into my back; she had already become attached to my prescence. Damn my father and this whole arranged marriage.
I found Thomas sitting by the fire, water falling down his face. His head was on top of his knees. Red hair deshevled; green eyes watering.
"Thomas," my voice was barely audible. Seeing him crying made me not know if I should clench my fists or cry myself. I sat down on the dirty flooring next to him. I grabbed his face so he was looking at me. "My father is a bastard; know that. He doesn't mean anything to us." He nodded, looking down again. "Look at me."
Once his eyes met mine, he asked "Is it true? I can't do anything right?"
I laughed softly. "That is not true. You're perfect." His lips pulled into a small smile and his eyes stopped tearing up. He looked at me through his lashes; not quite believing me. "I love you."
"I love you, too." He mused. I smiled and pulled his face towards mine for a brief kiss. He immediately blushed afterwards like always, no matter how many times we have shared kisses.
The young woman who stood in front of me was a typical arranged wife. Big blue eyes along with thick brown hair piled onto her head; curves that would appeal to most men. But of course, not me.
She blushed and looked down, my father was telling me to kiss her hand with his gaze. I smiled, grabbed her tiny hand, and placed a kiss on the glove. "It is very nice to meet you, Elizabeth."
Red blossomed on her cheeks. "It is nice to meet you too, George."
"So," Father interjects. "Shall we eat?"
Elizabeth nods her head, the small smile gracing her lips still. From the corner of my eye, I see Thomas setting the table. My fake smile turns into a real one. His gaze catches mine, and he tries to hid his blush. But he looks back, almost spilling the wine because of me being a distraction.
I go and take me seat at the table; Thomas sill setting it. "Hello Thomas," I whisper.
"Sir," he whispers back. His hand lights the candle wicks.
"I told you not to call me sir. I am George; nothing more, nothing less." I placed a napkin in my lap.
"George," he laughs lightly. "I wish you a good evening." A beutiful smile graces his lips.
"And I wish you one as well."
}*{
Dinner was always full of small talk. Elizabeth and her mother were 'proper,' according to my father. What if I didn't want proper? All I knew was Thomas was in the other room cooking and I kept my eyes glued to the door.
"George?" Elizabeth whispered. "What is so interesting about that door?" Her voice trace concern.
"What?" I snapped my gaze from the entry. "Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about something."
I looked down at my plate. Dinner was cold, and I hadn't touched any of it.
God, George. What has love done to you? No wonder you are so skinny.
And with that, Thomas appeared. I beamed at him. "Thomas!" My father called. "What took you so long? Can you do anything right? Never keep guests waiting!"
With a gulp, he replied. "S-sorry, sir." He looked down at his tattered shoes. My father was too careless to notice the tears threatening to spill. He hid in the other room.
"Father," I stood up, putting my napkin on the table. "If you will excuse me, I will talk to Thomas about my undercooked food."
Father nodded, always approving of a whipping but never of a compliment.
Elizabeth burned holes into my back; she had already become attached to my prescence. Damn my father and this whole arranged marriage.
I found Thomas sitting by the fire, water falling down his face. His head was on top of his knees. Red hair deshevled; green eyes watering.
"Thomas," my voice was barely audible. Seeing him crying made me not know if I should clench my fists or cry myself. I sat down on the dirty flooring next to him. I grabbed his face so he was looking at me. "My father is a bastard; know that. He doesn't mean anything to us." He nodded, looking down again. "Look at me."
Once his eyes met mine, he asked "Is it true? I can't do anything right?"
I laughed softly. "That is not true. You're perfect." His lips pulled into a small smile and his eyes stopped tearing up. He looked at me through his lashes; not quite believing me. "I love you."
"I love you, too." He mused. I smiled and pulled his face towards mine for a brief kiss. He immediately blushed afterwards like always, no matter how many times we have shared kisses.
♠ ♠ ♠
So yeah, this is a dream. You can guess that.Loving all the updates?? :)