<div style="text-align: center;"><a class="postlink" href="http://i.imgur.com/NHlFgsv.png">[ img ]</a><br/><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="color: #BF0000"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-weight: bold">You said you don't have to speak...I can hear you.<br/>I can't feel all the things you've ever felt before...</span></span></span></span></span><br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">• • • •</span></div><br/><br/>High in the sky, the sun shone brilliant through the leafy ceiling of her garden. A lace trim adorned the slender, fragile body of a girl, just turned twenty-five that very day. Breeze blowing through her light locks, the light bounced off the glossy waves hanging around her shoulders, naturally catching a passerby’s eye. There was a delicate air that hung around her, her sun-kissed skin holding the brilliance of the day’s light around her and reflecting it tenfold. Green orbs captured the day's innocence in their auspicious depths.<br/><br/>“Bellen?”<br/><br/>Her mother’s voice pulled her attention and had her slipping inside to speak with her. Steps as silent as the grave, she made haste through the vast halls of her family home, not a sound to be heard save for the soft tinkling of the ivories somewhere further in. Her sister, no doubt, practicing for her recital the next day. As per tradition, their mother would have none of her daughters musically inept; no, they would be well-rounded individuals who could please their future husbands in every aspect, whether entertainment or basic needs like cooking.<br/><br/>The further inside her steps carried her away from the warmth of the day, the colder her blood ran. There was talk of a party coming up, one that would serve to get her proper suitors, or that’s what she’d been told. In actuality, it was a party to celebrate a proposal that her father had accepted, one they’d yet to tell her, saving the good news until the right moment. This was to be that moment.<br/><br/>“Sí, mama?” she greeted her, stepping just inside of the room and bowing her head as was appropriate. Her voice was soft, melodic, awaiting the news her mother had called her for.<br/><br/>“Se siente conmigo, por favor,” was all she got, which had her a bit hesitant, but she did as was asked. Carefully, she sat down on the edge of the comfortable loveseat, her hands carefully adjusting the lace of her dress to make sure not a fold was out of place. Eyes remaining averted, Bellen sat waiting with bated breath as her mother took her time, There was a light smile on her lips, rivaling that of the Mona Lisa’s, as though she held a secret that only she would ever know, one that chilled Bellen to the bone. What news was it she saw fit to tell her now, she wondered.<br/><br/>“You have been…behind with your duties to this family.” The beginning of the conversation wasn’t going as well as she’d have liked, the intro more ominous than anything else and it left her filling with a sense of dread. She didn’t speak, waiting for her mother to continue. “But, with your attributes, we have found someone who is interested in making you his wife. Your father is pleased with the union and you’re to meet him tonight.”<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">I’m…</span>“Pero, mama, this I-”<br/><br/>“No ‘pero’, bonita,” her mother cut her off. “This is your duty as a woman. You must continue our family and this marriage will benefit us in more ways than you know.”<br/><br/>It may have been true that she was behind when it came to marriages. Most of those she’d grown up with were married and had already had several children. She may have just turned twenty-five, but she didn’t believe she was past her prime. If anything, she were in the midst of it. “Entonces, I have not met him?” she asked instead, knowing it’d be a losing battle to try and fight it. The woman was more stubborn than she was.<br/><br/>“No, you have not. His first language isn’t Spanish or so I’ve been told, so you need to practice your English. Here is a book; go read it and work on your pronunciation. We can’t have you not understanding him or he you, comprendes?”<br/><br/>“Sí, mama.” Bellen had relented. Her hands took hold of the book she was offered, and she made to leave the room with a final curtsy before slipping around the corner. Outside, she would sigh, rest her head in her hands for a moment and let the peaceful silence engulf her like a protective blanket. It was her duty, what she’d been raised to like all women were. It was their place. Did she care for her place? …Not even remotely, but it was her duty and she’d do it as expected.<br/><br/>Meandering back out to that spot in the garden, the sun beginning to dip below the trees as night slowly crept up on her, she made herself comfortable on the day couch. Ankles tucked beneath her, the dress meticulously placed, the light of the dying sun making it look near yellow, as though it glowed on her form. The book lay on her lap, eyes entranced by it as her lips formed the words beneath her breath; her accent was a hard one to kick but she’d try. Occasionally, a delicate hand would turn the page, but her eyes hardly lifted from her book. She was too engrossed, too focused on what she was tasked to do that she was oblivious to the world around her.<br/><br/>For her family, she would do this. Maybe he’d not be so bad, and it could be a welcomed arrangement. Then again, maybe not…<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Keep positive,</span>she told herself.<span style="font-style: italic">This could be a good thing…<br/><br/>I think.</span>