Mr. Darlington's Ex Wife

Chapter 3

AMARA'S POV:

My mother and I entered my large bedroom, and she helped me pack some of my things. She didn’t want me to carry all my belongings, reminding me that the Briggs family was wealthy and that I didn’t need to stress about arranging everything or packing all I owned.

We finished packing the boxes around 1 a.m., and my mother was exhausted. She stretched, yawned, and told me, “I have to go back to my room now to meet your father. Good night, my daughter.”

“Okay, Mom, but I’m still not happy about this marriage. Can’t you speak to my father again about this?” I asked. I looked at her face with my shining blue eyes that glimmered with hope that she would agree.

“No, Amara. I want you to marry and give me grandchildren. I cannot speak to your father about this again. Don’t worry; when you get to the city, I will call you often to see how you’re faring,” my mother told me. Hot tears streamed freely from my eyes.

I don’t know why I wasn’t happy about getting married and going to the city. It has always been my dream to marry a handsome, good man. But I was scared, and anxiety ran through my veins.

I asked my mother, “Mom, what if Darlington doesn’t like me? I don’t know him, and I haven’t seen him before. If he truly wants me, he should have been here since I was already married to him, even before I became aware of it.”

“Hmm, Darlington will love you once he sets his eyes on you. I don’t know if his father told him, but this was an agreement between your father and his father. It would be best if you were a good wife to him and didn’t discard your home training. I know the first year of marriage isn’t easy, with you adjusting to your new home and your husband’s way of life. As you know, he grew up in the city and is not here with us. But I am certain he will love you very much. So don’t be negative about anything and always have a positive mindset,” Mom advised me, but I stubbornly disagreed.

I asked her, “Mom, what if Darlington already has a woman in his life? I know some of these city men are like nymphs. I was there, and the way they gawked at me was as if they wanted to eat me raw. I wouldn’t say I like the idea of going to the city. I want a man from here,” I protested again.

“This is unlike you, my daughter. Don’t worry; I doubt Darlington would be in any relationship he’d desire, as his father would have told him about you. He’s your husband, and you shouldn’t worry much. Now come, go to bed, and get a good sleep. You have a long way to travel tomorrow,” my mother said, as she approached me and escorted me to the bed in my room.

I went to relieve myself in my restroom. I stepped into my bedroom and thought my mother had returned to her room, but she was still there, standing and waiting for me to lie on the bed like I was her baby.

Mom carefully used the bedcover to cover me while I slowly drifted to sleep, knowing I would miss the warm comfort of my parents’ home the following day.

I would be going to a man’s house whom I hadn’t met before. I knew nothing about him. I wondered if he would accept me or throw me outside and remind me that he never came to my family’s house to marry me.

All these thoughts lingered in my mind. However, I had a dream. In my dream, I saw a tall man. I couldn’t see his face, but he was muscular and attractive, and he stared at me with curiosity. He looked familiar, as if I had seen him before.

He approached me and pulled me into an embrace. As I tried to look at his face, I couldn’t see it or know if he was my husband—the new man I was going to live with. I woke up and saw my mother in my room.

“Amara, are you still in bed? Get up; it’s almost 6 a.m.” Mom walked up and pulled my room curtains open. I yawned and stretched as I sat up carefully on the bed.

I got out of bed and greeted her, “Good morning, Mom.”

“Morning, my dear, go and take your bath quickly. The car driver will soon be here; let me go and prepare your breakfast,” Mom told me as she quickly exited my bedroom. She wasn’t giving me a chance to protest again.

I sighed and went into my bathroom to have a quick, refreshing bath. I stepped out, only to find that my two big boxes of clothes were already outside my room, and I saw a yellow dress on the bed that my mother had chosen for me to wear.

I was not good with fashion, and my mother prioritized choosing a yellow dress. She was so good at fashion that people turned their heads to stare at her. I think that was what my mother used to win my father’s heart—with her high-fashion style and formidable looks. But me… I was too local to be considered fashionable.

I am cute anyway, so why must I dress hot to entice a man? I prefer wearing loose, baggy dresses to hide all my curves and boobs. In short, when I go to the market to select a dress, I buy loose ones.

After schooling in the city, I disliked for any man to gawk at me, so I made it a priority to buy loose-fitting dresses that were only my height but too big and would hide all my shapes.

I don’t find pleasure in looking cute. I remember one of my roommates telling me that if I wore a seductive red dress, I would get the president’s son in the private university to fall in love with me, and I could be a perfect seductress.

But no, I want to look decent and not too flashy. I don’t particularly appreciate drawing attention, and it makes me feel vulnerable, like I would be kidnapped soon by one of those predatory men whose eyes were monitoring my every move.

I sighed, drying my wet body. I rubbed on my orange cream on my smooth skin, and after that, I picked up the yellow dress and wore it. My mother was back in my bedroom again.