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last edited on ZLT: 29.02.20
REBEKKA IS HOSTED AT ZHANLANN
He slowly lifted the thin white veil that separated the two of them.
Her hands fisted at her sides, dangerously picking at the sparkling sequins of her white dress.
Her eyes burned—with indignant tears that were brimming with anger. The menacing air around her coupled with a sizzling glare that could roast a person alive eluded from the girl.
Yet, the pair of pale hands did not pause, nor did it stutter.
She fumed silently, for that was all she could do. She was fuming at her father for marrying her off without a second thought, fuming at herself for her inability to do anything about it, and fuming at the man standing before her.
The pair of hands pushed her veil back gently.
She clenched her teeth, her glare firmly planted on his bowtie, refusing to even look at him.
A hand leisurely stretched forward to tilt her chin up. The other cupped her cheeks.
His cool fingers made her shiver. Shiver not in pleasure, nor in excitement, but in frightening realisation of the bleak future of her marriage awaiting her.
Her eyebrows pinched together. Exactly what did she do wrong to earn herself such a torturous life sentence?
Her lips clamped tightly together, her mind set on tilting away when he leaned in for the kiss. Her eyes now fixed on the pair of foreign lips pinker than hers leaning in, she could not help but lean backwards to maintain their fixed proximity.
Suddenly, the pair of lips she had been staring at lifted into the slightest of grins she’d almost missed if not for his whisper.
He leaned in, his head tilting sideways, and to her utmost surprise, lightly pecked the end of her lips, almost on her cheeks rather than lips. The light caress slid away before she had time to react. The hand on her cheeks shielding his illusory kiss from the audience’s eyes, too, fell away.
Rebekka stared at his suit of white in a slight daze, unsure whether to feel insulted or relieved. Only till now, she realised she had not once looked up to see his face.
Her gaze slid up the crisp white suit, tracing his side profile hesitantly. His lips were rosier than hers—that alone made her boil enviously. Her gaze cautiously skimmed up, slowing down as she took in the gentle arch of his nose, the slanted almond-shaped eyes.
He turned to look at her, his gaze a sea of calm; his irises were a startling shade of emerald green.
Despite maintaining a calm exterior composure, she found herself almost jolting at his direct gaze in return to her obvious scrutiny.
For one reason or another, his relaxed expression looked as though he knew something she didn’t know. It made her uncomfortable.
He held out a hand. She placed hers in his, feeling the coolness of his touch.
His fingers curled to very lightly to grasp hers.
She stared at his, again, butterfly-like caress. It gave her the feeling he was restraining himself from touching her. She couldn’t tell whether it was something good or bad.
He led her to the dance floor, bowing with practiced ease. “Shall we?”
She curtseyed. It wasn’t as though she had a choice to refuse.
He pulled her towards him, closing the gap between them till it looked as though there was a barely any gap between them.
A soft sigh of relief escaped as she took in their close-but-not-that-close proximity. Rebekka caught her instinctive reflex a step too late, and wondered if she had accidentally snubbed him.
His lack of reaction told her otherwise, however.
Rebekka nodded to herself, and sighed again, then once again catching hold of herself too late.
REBEKKA IS HOSTED AT ZHANLANN