Forbidden Desires

"You're getting married to Anna Lawson whether you like it or not."

"But father, do you even care how I feel!?" Devon asked. "Or at least... what I want!?"

"What you want is irrelevant!" Mr. Hamilton declared, cold and fierce like ice.

"The only thing that matters is what is best for this family!" Mr. Hamilton continued, smashing his hands on the office desk in front of him. "And that is paramount!"

For a minute Devon was dumbfounded. He couldn't bear the thought of getting married to somebody he barely knew. He took in a deep breath with one hand in the pockets of his well tailored Italian suit, the other rubbing his forehead frustratingly, then continued.

"I barely even know her, father." Devon said, this time as calm as a dove. "You have to rethink this."

However, as he spoke, the man in question already had a look of growing unease on his face—the kind that tells you that the listener wasn't prepared to listen to whatever you had to say to him at the moment.

Devon saw this, but pressed on regardless. If there was a chance no matter how slim it was, that he could convince the man before him, he had to take it. Maybe—just maybe, his father would listen to reasons. He was screaming as loud as he could from within, but his father seemed deaf to it.

"Surely, you can't just marry me off to someone I've met just once." Devon pestered, feeling the need to stretch the last word. "Just once, father!"

"You will get to know her... eventually."

"But father—"

"I will hear no more of this nonsense, Devon!" Mr. Hamilton ordered furiously. "The decision has been made and that is final!"

"Now... leave!" He said pointing to the door of his luxurious office.

Agitated Devon left his father's office, banging the door on his way out.

It has always been like this. He thought as he walked out through the lobby. There has never been a time, when he stopped to think about how he felt. Or at least, would feel.

Not when he was a kid or still a teenager. Most of all, not now. He was an adult now—26 years of age to be precise. But it still felt like he was on a leash.

He had no control over how things went—choice of school, career, friends he kept, and now marital life. It felt like his entire life was controlled by his father, and he was the puppet.

"Good evening sir, there are some paperwork's waiting to be signed on your desk. Should I get over them or just...?" A beautiful young lady in her mid twenties informed as she saw Devon approaching.

"Sorry, Miriam. This isn't a good time." Devon replied as he walked past her.

"Ok..." Miriam said in a whisper-like tone. For some seconds, she stood there wondering what must've caused Devon's agitation. However, when she turned round to the direction he came from and