Arthmata The Saga

“Congratulations,” the words seem to fall on Marc’s ears but he barely seemed to register anything. He could feel his heart beat loudly against his chest. Anxiety building up in him. “Congratulations, Erica.” The voice rang again and mark tried to spot the origin of the voice. Oh Right. He had to be polite. He could not afford to displease his parents on the day of his wedding.  

“Thanks for coming,” mark said without traces of any warmth in his voice. Then came another well-wisher and one more. His eyes searched for her again. There she was, laughing with the other bridesmaids at their table. She lifted the flute and sipped her champagne. Marc wished for nothing more than to be the glass that was pressed against her lips.

He moved his gaze back to his table. “This is just perfect, isn’t it?” Erica’s assertive voice demanded an answer. Marc nodded and forced a smile.

 Which part of this arrangement was perfect he wondered. How had things gotten to this point? He quickly stole another glance at the bridesmaid’s table. A man approached their table and stretched his arm towards her, asking for a dance. She slipped her hand into his and pushed against her chair.

Marc wasn’t careful this time. He had looked for longer than he intended to. “Our first dance was perfect, wasn’t it?” Erica chirped and asked marc for another dance. She wanted to go to the floor and be swung in her gown. She had dreamed of this reception since she had set her eyes on Marc for the first time a year ago.

“Yes,” said Marc, “let’s dance again.”