Sofia.
I paced back and forth in the dining, frantically going over every detail. I soon sat in the midst of fabrics and lace, surrounded by an array of wedding dresses. Each one more beautiful than the last, and yet I couldn't make up my mind. The pressure of the decision weighed heavily on my shoulders, and frustration began to build within me.
"No, this is not what I wanted," I snapped at the maid who had brought in the flower arrangements. "Do it again!"
The maid trembled, her eyes welling up with tears. "I...I'm sorry, Miss Sofia. I tried my best."
My frustration got the better of me, and I continued to berate the maid, my voice growing louder and harsher. "Your best isn't good enough! This is my wedding, and I expect perfection!"
The maid couldn't hold back her tears any longer and began to sob. The sound of her cries echoed through the room, causing me to pause for a moment. I realized that I had gone too far, but my pride prevented me from immediately apologizing.
Just as the situation was escalating, Deangelo walked into the room, his eyes filled with concern. "Sofia, what's going on here?"
I turned to face him, my anger still evident. "Deangelo, this is none of your business. I am just disciplining my staff."
Deangelo's voice remained calm but firm as he spoke. "She's not just your staff, Sofia. She works in this house, which means she is under my care as well. I think it's best if she takes the rest of the day off. We can discuss this later."
I felt a surge of anger rise within me. "How dare you interfere! Once we are married, this will be my house too."
Deangelo sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Sofia, this is not the time or place for this argument. We both have responsibilities to attend to."
I watched as Deangelo turned away from me and continued with his tuxedo fitting. I could sense the tension between us, but I couldn't let go of my pride to mend the situation.
I took a deep breath, trying to regain my composure. "Fine, Deangelo," I said through gritted teeth. "Carry on with your fitting. But don't forget that I have a say in this house too or are we not getting married already?"
He didn't respond, but his silence spoke volumes. I felt a pang of regret for my behavior, but my stubbornness kept me from apologizing and so he decided to just walked out of the room, his response to my question left hanging in the air. My heart raced as anger and confusion overwhelmed me. "Deangelo!" I shouted, my voice filled with impatience. "Come back here and give me an answer!"
In my haste to catch up with him, I hastily rose from my seat, my wedding dress trailing behind me. But in my reckless movement, the delicate fabric caught on something, and I stumbled forward, crashing onto the floor. My anger intensified as I struggled to untangle myself from the dress.
"You!" I bellowed, pointing an accusing finger at the same maid who stood nearby. "This is all your fault! If you had done your job properly, none of this would have happened!"
The maid's eyes widened in fear as she stammered, "I-I'm sorry, Miss Sofia. I didn't mean to cause any trouble."
But I was in no mood to listen to her apologies. The frustration and tension had built up inside me, and it found an outlet in blaming someone else for my predicament. "You're always causing trouble," I snapped. "If you had been more attentive, I wouldn't be lying on the floor like this!"
Tears welled up in the maid's eyes, but I paid no attention to her distress. My anger consumed me, clouding my judgment and preventing me from seeing the real source of my frustrations.
As I finally managed to free myself from the entangled dress, I stood up, my face flushed with indignation. I knew deep down that my outburst was unwarranted, but my pride kept me from admitting my mistake.
I took a deep breath, trying to compose myself, and looked around the room. The elegant dresses seemed to mock me, a reminder of my inability to make a simple decision. The once joyous occasion of selecting a wedding dress had turned into a chaotic mess.
Before I could gather my thoughts or assess the situation, Madame Beatrice, Deangelo's mother, entered the room. Her presence alone filled me with a mixture of apprehension and annoyance. She was known for her sharp tongue and unpredictable behavior. Madame Beatrice wasted no time in reprimanding me, her voice laced with irritation. "Shut up, Sofia!" she snapped. "We are trying to enjoy our afternoon, and you're ruining it with all your screeching."
My temper flared, and I couldn't hold back my response. "Why don't you go back to your usual alcohol and leave me alone?" I retorted, a sharp edge to my voice. The words slipped out without a second thought, a direct reference to Madame Beatrice's struggle with alcoholism.
Enraged by my comment, Madame Beatrice lunged forward, her hand reaching out to grab hold of my hair. Panic surged through me as I found myself engaged in a physical altercation with Deangelo's mother. We tussled, our movements fueled by anger and a desire to inflict pain upon one another.
The chaos unfolded quickly, and before anyone could intervene, my beautiful dress, carefully chosen for this momentous occasion, was torn and ruined. The realization of the damage caused tears to well up in my eyes, blending with the overwhelming frustration that had already consumed me.
I broke free from the scuffle, my body trembling as I hastily wiped away the tears streaming down my cheeks. I couldn't bear the sight of my once flawless gown now reduced to tatters. Desperate for solace and support, I sought out Deangelo, yearning to report his mother's outrageous behavior to him.