SLOAN'S POINT OF VIEW
When I was young, my nanny used to ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up, and I always told her that I wanted to get married in a church in front of God to the man I loved.
As a kid, that might be the weirdest dream to hear instead of being a teacher, police officer, an actor, or even a doctor. But not me. I had my sights set on the church's aisle.
"You're still a child so you shouldn't be thinking about things like that yet, Ma'am Sloan. Don't you want to be a doctor or a businesswoman like your daddy?" Nanny Basya asked again.
The seven-year-old me pouted. "No. That's really my dream, nanny. I wanted to get married in the church because I wanted to promise God that I could be a good wife to my future husband just like my mom is to my dad," I said and smiled sweetly.
Nanny Basya massaged her temple because of what I said. "Oh my God, this child." I just chuckled and continued playing with my toys.
I had a perfect and ideal family back then. Happy and complete. I was happy with my parents even though I didn't have a sibling. That was before—until my mom died.
Losing my mom was a devastating blow that rocked our family to its core. Her absence left an enormous void that we are still struggling to fill. The impact of her death cannot be overstated. It has changed our lives in ways we never could have imagined.
After my mother's death, my father transformed completely into a different person. He kept drinking and no longer cared for me. I couldn't feel his presence anymore. It was like I didn't know him at all. He's not the carefree and loving father that I used to know.
He transformed into a power-hungry dictator, cunning and ruthless, unrecognizable from the man I once knew. He became a stranger to me. He's not my father anymore. But despite all that, I make an effort to understand him because I know he just loved my mother deeply—he's just hurting from mom's death.
It's a tough pill to swallow, sacrificing my own dreams—my dreams to marry the man that I love—for this understanding.
"I want you to marry Maximiliano Arellano, Sloan. He's a good friend of mine, and he wants a wife before going back to Cuba for war," my father casually mentioned while munching on his breakfast, as if marriage weren't a big deal.
I met Maximiliano once. He is five years older than me, and, if my memory serves me right, he is a soldier who is deployed to other countries to participate in wars. He's a gentleman and handsome. He's also rich and kind. I just noticed that he exudes an air of seriousness and coldness that made me feel uncomfortable.
I wanted to protest. I wanted to tell my dad that I wanted to marry the man that I loved, but instead I said, "Yes, dad." I agreed.
Ever since my mother died, I have never said 'no' to my father. Daddy has made every decision for me, as if I no longer had the right to make them for myself.
Daddy nodded and wiped his lips with the table napkin. "Good. The wedding will take place this week. Maximiliano has requested a private ceremony, so we will be having a civil wedding for the both of you," he authoritatively said.
For the second time, I wanted to protest. I wanted to speak for myself, but then, again, I said, "Yes, dad."
Before he completely left the dining hall, he looked at me seriously. "Don't you dare disgrace our last name, Sloan Beatrice."
Before my wedding, I cried hard. I cried for my freedom. Yes, it was my dream to get married. It was my dream ever since I was a child, but just because it was my dream didn't mean I wanted to be married to someone I didn't love.
For me, love is the most important foundation of a marriage. Marriage is a sacred commitment. We are destined to spend our lives together, no matter what. It's not something to take lightly or play around with.
I did indeed marry Maximiliano within that week. My father didn't say anything to me. He didn't even greet me or hug me, things a parent should do when their child gets married. After the wedding, Maximiliano and I went straight to his house.
I couldn't believe that in the blink of an eye, I would wake up already tied to a man I didn't love and didn't even really know.
I may not have liked our marriage, but I stood by my commitment as Maximiliano's spouse. I did the housewife's duties. I cleaned, cooked, and did the laundry. I know how to do household chores because Nanny Basya taught me all of that back then.
I'm not mad at my father. I could never be mad at him because I still hope he will return to the way he used to be.
"I'll go back to Cuba tomorrow," Max said as we lay side by side on the big bed. I had my back turned to him, trying to fall asleep.
I caught my breath when I felt his breath on the back of my neck. I shut my eyes tightly while reminding myself that he's my husband and not a stranger.
"You're awake, right?" he asked.
"W-Why?" I stammered.
"We are in the honeymoon stage, Sloan, but ever since we got married, I can feel that you're distancing yourself from me. You don't even let me touch you," he said, as if hurt.
I swallowed hard. Then what is he trying to say? I didn't move. I just clung tightly to the white blanket. I froze even more when I felt him wrap his arm around my waist.
"M-Max, please." I protested.
"Please what, hmm?"
"P-Please don't... I'm not ready yet..."
He did stop. I felt him get out of bed roughly, seemingly annoyed by my rejection. My heart was beating fast from fear. I know he's mad. I can feel it.
"I can't believe I married a woman like you. You're my wife, but you can't fulfill my needs as your husband! Fuck!" I felt him storm off to the walk-in closet.
I sat on the bed. My whole body was shaking like a leaf because I genuinely believed he was going to hurt me earlier.
"W-Where are you going?" I dared to ask when he came out already dressed.
He looked at me coldly. "If you can't provide for my needs as a man, then I'll look for someone else who can," he said, leaving me dumbfounded.
After that night, he left me alone in his big house. The next day, I just woke up and he was already gone—he left for Cuba. He didn't even say goodbye or leave a message. He's really mad.
I thought my married life would be easy and happy, but I was wrong. I was alone. I was lonely. I was by myself in the big house, and not even daddy visited me.
On my third month as Mrs. Arellano, I received a call from a hospital in Cuba, where Maximiliano was risking his life.
"Hello? May I speak to Mrs. Arellano?" said the voice on the other end of the line.
"M-Mrs. Arellano speaking. Who's this?" I responded. I had just finished doing laundry.
"I regret to inform you, Mrs. Arellano, that your husband, Maximiliano Arellano, has been confirmed as one of the soldiers who lost their lives due to the war in the Province of Oriente, Cuba."
"W-What?!" I exclaimed.
I couldn't believe what I heard. Just minutes after the hospital called me, Maximiliano's sibling also called to confirm his death.
Even before I could mourn Max's death, daddy went to Maximiliano's house to pick me up. I thought he would comfort me and tell me that everything would be alright. I thought he picked me up because he was worried about me, but to my disappointment, that's not the case.
After four days, my dad introduced Frederick Golveo. He is four years older than me. Unlike Maximiliano, Frederick is carefree but a workaholic type of man.
"So when is the wedding?" my dad asked with a wide smile on his face.
My eyes widened. "W-Wait, what wedding, dad?" I asked, confused.
"She didn't know, Silvino?" Mrs. Fina Golveo, Frederick's mom, asked.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot to tell her," Daddy apologized. "Don't worry, she's willing to marry your son, right Sloan?"
"Y-Yes, dad," I agreed through clenched teeth.
Frederick put his arm around my shoulder, causing me to freeze. "You're my fiancée now, Sloan. I want the wedding within next week. Is that okay?"
"Aren't you rushing things, son? Don't you want to get married in a church?" Mr. Oliver Golveo interrupted.
My heart started beating faster as I waited for Frederick's answer. I wanted to know if he wanted to get married in a church like I did.
Frederick shrugged. "That's traditional, dad. I want a beach wedding." My shoulders fell because of his answer. "What do you think, Sloan? I bet you like that, don't you? Girls like that."
I don't.