I was still carrying the weight of yesterday's shock when I woke up the next morning. The house was quiet, too quiet for a mansion usually buzzing with maids in soft slippers and my father's early calls. It felt like the whole place already knew what was waiting for me… except I wished I didn't.
The arranged marriage.
The words kept circling in my head like annoying flies.
I wasn't ready.
I wasn't even mentally prepared for a boyfriend, let alone a husband.
I walked down the grand staircase like a zombie, holding onto the railing because—knowing myself—I might trip and roll all the way to the bottom. The chandeliers sparkled above me, mocking my misery. The portraits of my ancestors stared down at me with judgmental eyes, as if telling me, "Deal with it, child. We all married for the company too."
"Good morning, Miss Sabrina," the maids greeted softly.
I waved at them politely, trying not to look like a depressed coconut.
Mom was waiting for me in the dining room, sitting with her teacup and her usual gentle smile—the kind of smile that hides so much behind it. She always looked elegant: soft hair pinned perfectly, pastel dress, pearl earrings. She looked like a mother from a magazine cover.
But today, she looked tired.
"Good morning, sweetheart," she said softly.
"Morning, Mom…" I sat opposite her, fiddling with my spoon.
For a moment, we just sat there in silence. My father wasn't in the room, which already told me this was going to be one of those conversations—the kind of mother-daughter talk where the mother smiles gently while dropping heartbreaking realities like flower petals.
I cleared my throat.
"Mom… can we talk? Privately?"
Her gentle expression paused for a split second, but she nodded.
"Of course, dear. Let's go to my study."
That meant it was serious.
We walked quietly down the hallway, the sound of my slippers sharp against the marble floor. Her study smelled like lavender and old books. The moment she closed the door, I felt my chest tighten.
She sat on the couch and patted the seat beside her.
I didn't sit.
Not yet.
I needed a moment to breathe.
"Mom…" I started softly. "I—I don't want to get married. Not now."
Her hands gently clasped together on her lap. "I understand, Sab."
I flinched at how soft her tone was. If she had been strict, maybe I wouldn't have cried. But softness? Softness kills.
"I'm only sixteen," I whispered. "I don't even like him."
Her eyebrows lifted slightly. "You don't have to like him, sweetheart."
"Mom!" I whined, almost stomping my foot like a toddler.
She chuckled gently, then sighed. "I'm not saying this to pressure you. I'm saying this to tell you the truth. You and Theodore… you could learn to like each other. He's a good boy. His parents raised him well."
I frowned. "He looks like a walking ice cube."
"Sabrina," she chided softly, but she was smiling.
I finally sat beside her, hugging a throw pillow for emotional support. "Mom… I'm not ready. I don't even know how to be a girlfriend. I'm still clumsy, and awkward, and—"
"And lovable," she interrupted softly. "You're lovable, Sab. More than you think."
I looked at her, surprised.
Mom rarely complimented me directly. She was warm, yes, gentle even, but she didn't throw sweet words around. She saved them for when I truly needed them.
"Then let me stay single a little longer…" I pleaded, holding the pillow tighter. "Just one year? Half? A month?"
"Oh, sweetheart…" she whispered, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "If this were only about you, I would give you all the time you need. I really would. But this… this marriage… it's important."
"How important?" I whispered.
Her eyes shifted downward, heavy. "Important enough to save not just our company… but our employees' families, our people's salaries, our business partners… everything your father and I built since before you were born."
My throat tightened.
I hated this.
I hated how real problems were never simple.
"But why me?" I whispered. "Why can't you just… make a business agreement? Or a partnership? Or I don't know, a handshake between powerful adults? Why marriage?"
She sighed deeply. "Because the Viors and the Navarros… we aren't just business partners. We're family friends. And we trust each other enough to bind our futures together. This isn't a forced marriage, Sab. It's an arranged one. You both still have choices."
I blinked. "Mom, that's the same thing but with flowers."
She laughed softly, covering her mouth. "You always make everything lighter."
I stared at the floor.
"I just don't want to marry someone who doesn't even like me."
Mom's smile faltered slightly.
"Theodore doesn't dislike you, Sab."
I snorted. "He doesn't even know I exist."
"He knows you," she answered gently. "More than you think."
I slowly lowered the pillow, confused. "What do you mean?"
She hesitated.
And that made my stomach twist.
"Theodore already agreed," she said softly. "And he asked… if you were okay with it."
I froze.
"He asked… about me?"
She nodded. "He wanted the assurance that you wouldn't be forced."
I blinked rapidly. "That doesn't sound like him at all."
"Sabrina," she smiled lightly, "you don't know him yet. You only know the version you see on campus. But behind that cold face, he's mature. He's responsible. He cares in ways he doesn't show."
I buried my face in my hands. "Mom… this is too much. I have exams. And quizzes. And normal teenager problems like acne and fake friends. Why do I suddenly have a marriage?"
She reached over and hugged me.
I didn't expect that.
Mom wasn't the hugging type.
She loved me, yes, but she showed love through gentle words and soft gestures, not physical affection.
So the moment her arms wrapped around me, my eyes widened.
"Sab… you're not losing your youth," she whispered. "You're just stepping into a different kind of life. And I know it's scary. I know it feels unfair. But we're all here. We won't abandon you."
Something inside me cracked at the sound of her voice.
She sounded tired.
Hurt.
Pained.
Like she had been carrying this burden for years.
"Mom… do you really need this marriage?" I whispered, unable to keep the tremble out of my voice.
And then she did something that completely shattered me.
She cried.
Soft, quiet tears slipped down her cheeks.
I had never seen my mother cry.
Not even once.
She was always composed—gentle, yes, but strong. Unshakable.
But now… she looked like someone who was begging life to give her daughter a better destiny.
"I'm sorry, Sab," she whispered, voice cracked. "If I had any other way… I would choose it. I want you to be happy. I want you to have freedom. But right now… we need this. I'm… I'm sorry, sweetheart."
Her shoulders shook slightly.
Seeing my mother—my calm, elegant mother—break down like that made something inside me snap.
My rejection felt selfish.
Small.
Shallow compared to what she was carrying.
"Mom…" I whispered, tears forming in my eyes. "Don't cry. Please."
She wiped her cheeks quickly, embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pressure you—"
"No." I shook my head. "You're not pressuring me. I just… I didn't realize how difficult this is for you too."
She looked at me with such softness that my chest ached.
I took a shaky breath.
Then another.
And without even meaning to… the words left my mouth:
"…I'll do it."
Her eyes widened. "Sab—"
"I'll agree to the marriage," I said softly. "If it's for the company… for Dad… for you… then I'll do it."
She covered her mouth, tears falling again—not from sadness, but relief.
"Oh sweetheart…" she whispered, pulling me into a tighter hug. "Thank you… thank you…"
I squeezed my eyes shut.
I wasn't ready.
I wasn't prepared.
I didn't even want this.
But seeing her cry… seeing her in pain…
How could I say no?
"Just… promise me one thing, Mom," I whispered into her shoulder.
"Anything."
"Don't make me wear a ridiculous old-fashioned gown during the engagement ceremony."
She laughed through her tears, and I felt her smile against my hair.
"I promise."
And for the first time since all of this started…
I let myself breathe.
Not because I was ready.
But because I chose this—for them.
For my family.