“You are very lucky,” Maria was saying again. “A rich and handsome husband is not easy to come by.”
Maria was my best friend, she came over to help me pack because I’d be following my new husband home, after my wedding which was the following day.
“Thank you.” If I was counting, that would be the seventh time I was saying that. Even though I knew something was wrong somewhere. I knew my new husband whom I have known for only two weeks was dangerous. I saw the way he reacted when I brought his job up; I have seen blood in his clothes twice and I think I saw something that looked like a gun in his pocket once. I don’t trust my new husband.
But who am I supposed to talk to, my widowed mother that is desperate to sell me out to the highest bidder, or my only brother who only looked on helplessly? Of course we all needed that money.
Now should I talk about my village lover who couldn’t even stand my new husband? What did he have after all?