Opinions on my modified story about arranged marriage?
So I modified the last one. Here’s what I have now:
Every little girl dreams about her wedding day. She plans out every little detail of that perfect day. She envisions her perfect husband and dreams about their life together. Wedding days are supposed to be a celebration of the union of two people who are in love. My wedding day was a union, but not of two people who loved each other. My wedding was arranged by my parents. They chose him. They dreamed about our prosperous life together. They planned the wedding. I did nothing.
Today was the day. The music from downstairs drifted up into the room I was getting ready in. My sister adjusted my veil, while a few of my cousins placed extravagant bangles on my wrist. My lehenga was a dark shade of red. It looked like blood to me. Elaborate silver embroidery was stitched throughout. The henna on my hands had darkened. My jewelry glistened in the light.
“Look in the mirror. You look like a bride.” Said my sister.
I looked up. I might’ve looked like a bride, but I didn’t feel like one. My hair was the same. It was simply tied back into a fancy bun. My face was the same. However, it now had a fair amount of makeup on it. My ears were the same, but now wore heavy, ornate earrings. My mother always told me that when girls are dressed up as brides, they feel different as if they’re immersed in a transformation. I didn’t feel like this at all.
I haven’t written about the groom yet, but it’s a start. Tell me what you think about it now. Thanks!