The unexpected Engagement

Myra stepped through the creaking wooden door of her family’s modest cottage, the scent of damp earth and the remnants of yesterday’s stew mingling in the air. The sunlight slanted through the grimy window, illuminating the dust motes swirling lazily around her. She dropped the woven basket onto the worn table, its contents spilling out—a few wilted vegetables, a loaf of stale bread, and a small jar of honey she had bartered for at the market.

The bustling sounds of the village faded behind her as she wiped her brow, glancing toward the hearth where a flicker of flame danced, casting shadows that moved like restless spirits. She could hear voices from the other room, her parents’ familiar tones blending into a murmur.

As Myra moved to the doorway, curiosity piqued, she paused. There was a new voice—deep, commanding, and laced with an unnerving authority. She leaned closer, her heart quickening as she strained to catch the conversation.

“—you owe me, Andrew. This isn’t merely a loan; it’s a debt that must be repaid,” the stranger said, his words sharp as the knife Myra used to slice the day’s bread.

“Come now, Noel,” her father’s voice was slouched with a lazy sort of defiance, “we’ll find a way. We always do.”

“No, this time, I require something more substantial. You know that. I’ve waited long enough.”

Myra’s breath caught in her throat. Noel? The name sent an icy shiver down her spine. She recalled the stories whispered in the village tavern, tales of a man who had once lent money to the desperate and the destitute, and who now moved like a phantom in their lives.

“What are you suggesting?” Lady Anelle’s voice trembled, betraying the confidence she often feigned.

“Your daughter,” Noel replied, and the silence that followed was heavy, thick with unspoken horror.

Myra’s heart raced. Her hands gripped the doorframe, knuckles turning white. “You can’t mean—” she breathed, pushing the door aside, stepping into the cramped living room where the air felt charged and suffocating.

Three pairs of eyes turned toward her, her parents’ expressions a mix of shock and guilt, while the stranger’s gaze bore into her with an unsettling intensity. He was tall, impeccably dressed in a dark suit that contrasted sharply with the worn surroundings. His features were striking—sharp jawline, piercing blue eyes, and a demeanor that echoed a distant past that made her skin crawl.

“Ah, Myra,” he said, his voice smooth as silk but with an undercurrent of something darker. “I believe it’s time we met. Your parents and I were just discussing your future.”

“What future?” Myra’s voice wavered, though she tried to sound defiant, a spark of indignation flaring within her. “What do you want from me?”

“Repayment,” he replied, unfazed. “Your parents have been unable to honor their debts, and I’m afraid their time is up. I propose a solution that benefits us all.”

“Solution?” Myra echoed, her mind racing. “You can’t just take me—”

“I assure you, it’s not ‘taking’,” he interrupted, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. “I merely wish to engage you, Myra. A marriage of sorts, for my generosity.”

Her mother gasped, covering her mouth with trembling fingers, while her father stared at the floor as if it might offer him a way out. “Noel, please,” he stammered, desperation creeping into his voice. “She’s just a girl. She has her whole life ahead of her. You can’t—”

“I can, and I will,” Noel interjected, his voice lowering to an ominous whisper. “You have until the end of the month to agree to this arrangement. Otherwise, I’ll be forced to seek other methods of compensation.”

The weight of his words settled around Myra like a shroud. A marriage? To this man? The thought twisted her stomach into knots. She turned to her parents, searching for some sign of resistance, but their eyes were cast down, heavy with shame and resignation.

“You can’t do this,” she whispered, pleading with them. “You can’t just hand me over like some—some trinket for a debt!”

“Don’t you see?” her mother’s voice cracked, tears pooling in her eyes. “We have no choice. This is the only way to save our home, to survive.”

“Survive?” Myra scoffed, anger bubbling to the surface. “You’re willing to sell me to a man you don’t even know.

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