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"What are these two choices?" she asked, her voice trembling with disbelief.
"He said either I repay the loan in three days… or I marry off my daughter to his son," Wilford confessed, his words heavy with shame.
Abigail froze at the doorway, her breath caught in her throat. The world seemed to blur around her, and before anyone could notice, she slipped quietly into her room and shut the door, pressing her back against it as if it could shield her from the cruel reality.
"Tell me you're joking," Elsa whispered, her eyes darting desperately to her husband's face, searching for any sign of jest. But the silence between them was answer enough.
Minutes dragged by, thick and suffocating, before she finally spoke again.
"So… what are you going to do?"
"According to him, it's a 'win-win situation,'" Wilford muttered bitterly. "If our daughter makes his son fall in love with her, he'll forgive the debt and even reward us. But if she fails within a year, we must pay double. And if we cannot…" His voice faltered, breaking into a trembling whisper. "We'll lose her forever."
Elsa's eyes brimmed with tears. "What a vile bargain. This is unacceptable!"
"What do you suggest we do then?" Wilford's voice was hollow.
"I've heard plenty about his son," Elsa said, brushing away her tears with trembling fingers. "Morpheus is desperate for a grandchild, yet his son refuses to marry. They say at his last birthday party, he publicly humiliated the most beautiful actress in Country X. If even she was rejected, how can our daughter make such a man—such a demon—fall in love? This isn't an offer, Wilford. It's a punishment."
Wilford buried his face in his hands and wept. Elsa reached for him, her lips quivering.
"Oh, Wilford… if you go through with this, what do you expect me, as her mother, to do?"
"I'm sorry," he murmured, his shoulders shaking.
"You don't need to apologize," she said softly, wiping his tears with the edge of her shawl. "We need wisdom now, not sorrow. We can't go on living like this."
He looked up at her, broken. "Then… what do you suggest, love?"
"One day, our daughter will leave us for another family anyway—"
"No, no! Don't tell me you want her to marry into that family?"
"Darling, look around you," Elsa's voice cracked, but she pressed on. "Do you enjoy watching your daughter suffer as we do? No schooling, no good food, no decent life?" Her tears streamed freely.
"I know… but we are happy," he whispered weakly.
"Happy?" Elsa's voice rose in anguish. "Is this the kind of happiness you want her to inherit? Do you want her trapped in poverty forever? If Abi succeeds, she'll have a chance—a real life, a better future. I'm not thinking of the loan, Wilford. I'm thinking of our daughter's freedom."
"And if he never loves her?"
"Speak positively, my love," Elsa said, forcing a hopeful smile through her tears. "By God's grace, our daughter will touch his heart. I pray I live to see it."
"You're too confident. You haven't even considered the risks," Wilford sighed, shaking his head.
"We have no choice," Elsa said firmly. "Now… let us rest."
"Then who will tell her tomorrow?"
"I will," Elsa replied with quiet resolve. "I'm her mother. I'll never force her. If she refuses, that will be the end of it."
They retreated into their room, but sleep never truly came.
---
Morning dawned. Sunlight bathed the little log cabin nestled in the garden's heart. Though the walls were patched with hardened mud and rough planks, the golden light softened every flaw. The rusted zinc sheets and palm fronds that formed the roof crackled under the warmth of the day.
Inside, the house stirred awake. Smoke curled lazily from the clay stove, carrying the scent of firewood and yesterday's soup. The sitting room was bare—two wooden stools and a shaky table with a cracked edge. The brown tiles, chipped but scrubbed clean, glimmered faintly beneath the morning rays that slipped through thin curtains.
In her small room, Abigail lay on her raffia mat, staring at the cobwebs stretched across the ceiling. The rooster's crow and the clatter of pots from the kitchen bled into her thoughts. She hugged her faded blanket tightly, her mind replaying every word she had overheard last night. A weight pressed on her chest—the burden of her parents' despair, now resting squarely on her shoulders.
From the kitchen, Elsa busied herself with breakfast. When she finally set the steaming bowls on the table, she greeted her husband softly.
"Morning, love."
"Morning," Wilford replied, taking his seat. He glanced around. "Where's Abigail? I haven't seen her since I came home."
"I think she's still asleep," Elsa said, forcing calm. "I haven't seen her either."
"Are you really going to tell her?" he asked, his voice low.
"Of course. I'm still finding the right words," she murmured.
"I don't think we should tell her," he said, frowning. "What if she thinks we're… using her?"
"I'll put it in a way she'll understand," Elsa whispered. Their voices rose slightly, teetering on the edge of argument, before a soft voice cut through the air.
"I'll go."
The words silenced them both. Elsa's spoon slipped from her hand and clattered against the clay plate.
"Wh… what did you say, my love?" Elsa turned, trying desperately to mask her trembling.
Abigail stood in the doorway, her face pale but her eyes steady.
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📖 ✨Author's Note
Hey lovely readers! 💕
Thanks for checking out this book—I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Don't forget to drop your thoughts, guesses, or favorite parts in the comments. Your feedback keeps me inspired and motivated to write more for you. 🥰
See you in the next chapter!
—[Divine Twinkle]