Mrs. Matched | Complete

Chapter Two

I woke up on the morning after my friend's wedding to the sound of a notification on my phone. I rolled over and patted my hand around the nightstand until I finally found the source of the offending noise. I am going to kill Melody for messaging me so early in the — I'm forced to eat my words when I see the time on the clock.

'10:30 AM' is shining at me in big glowing letters from the alarm clock that clearly didn't go off that morning. It wasn't early in the morning at all. I rubbed my eyes and put on my glasses before opening my phone to read the notification.

Oh. No.

There on my home screen were the two dreaded words I'd spent most of last night trying to avoid: Match Made.

You have got to be kidding me!

Two minutes earlier, at 10:28, I had officially completed my twenty-fifth year of life. One minute ago, at 10:29, I had entered a new era of my life with a match made for me by my parents. They sure hadn't wasted any time turning my life into a complete nightmare.

I stared at the notification on my screen, hoping that if I didn't open it, it wouldn't be real. But the longer I stared at it, the more obvious it was that there was no turning back. It was time to pick myself up and see what the process would be like. None of my friends had ever gone through a parental match as they were becoming more and more rare in general. I guess most people would rather pick their own spouse, even if they pick poorly.

I guess it wouldn't be the end of the world to date someone my parents pick for me, I reasoned. I'll have time to figure it all out.

Waiting was only serving to increase my anxiety, so I took a deep breath and opened up the notification. I didn't even read the whole message before I lost hold of the phone and it bounced onto the bed and rolled right off onto the floor.

Through a cracked screen, I could still read the message that the app had sent on behalf of my parents: We regret to inform you that you have been engaged.

Oh, that's funny. Engaged? This has to be some kind of sick joke!

It was common knowledge that parents got to pick spouses for their kids if they reached the age of twenty-five and hadn't done it themselves. But there was no way I was engaged already. I didn't even know his name.

Right! His name!

I picked up my phone and gingerly scrolled on the broken screen, the thin protector film the only thing holding it together. I searched the whole message for more information about the man I was supposedly going to marry but there was none. And it wasn't because of the cracked screen, either. There really was no information about the man my parents chose.

This must be some mistake! Some sick joke my friends are pulling.

I wanted to laugh at the thought of my friends being responsible for this hilarious prank, but deep in the pit of my stomach, the knots told me that there was no way this was a joke. This is my life now. I tried to steady myself. It took everything in me not to throw up the entire contents of my stomach.

Okay. I can figure this out. I can pull myself together.

I looked at my phone one last time and emailed myself a screenshot before backing out of the message, just to make sure it didn't get lost. If only losing it meant it wasn't real.

I swiped open the phone app, fully intending to call my parents and ask them about him directly. Because I was desperate to know what the heck was going on, and because information gathering would have to be more important than anger for now. I mean, they could at least tell me his name before we're married to each other.

As I was pressing the five, my phone beeped again. Through the cracked screen, I could see another blue message titled 'Match Made'. Might as well see if it gives me any information before I call my parents and break my silent treatment, I thought, carefully clicking open the notification.

This message is to inform you that you will have 22 hours to pack your belongings and prepare to move. Only take with you those things you will need at your new residence. A moving crew and driver will arrive to take you to your house on Monday at precisely 9:00 AM. We wish you the best of luck with your new spouse.

I should have saved my phone drop for that moment. Instead, all that dropped was my jaw as I considered all the implications of that message and our archaic laws. If we're moving in together that means I'm going to be married? By tomorrow? How is that even possible? Isn't there a paper I have to sign or terms I have to agree to? Something?

Anything!

A huge part of me still wanted to call my mom and yell at her, but I knew that wouldn't do anyone any good. I didn't need someone to yell at me right then, I needed someone to console me. I almost resolved to call Melody during her honeymoon but instead, completely without my consent, my legs gave out from under me and I found myself on the floor sobbing.

The tears rolled down my face as I struggled to get a full breath into my lungs. Every attempted inhale was a thousand pins pushed into my chest as I battled to take in enough oxygen through the tears. The more I tried to calm myself, the more my body wracked with sobs. The more I cried, the harder it became to breathe.

I tried to focus on calming myself and my breathing when the blackness began closing in on my vision. I had been in that position before — it usually meant I was close to passing out.

I put my head between my knees, wiped the tears off my face, and tried to reason with myself so I would calm down. Maybe he won't be that bad. My parents have always loved me — I'm sure they didn't pick someone totally awful. I'm sure he'll be a good enough guy and we can figure out if we like each other. There has to be some way out if we decide the marriage thing isn't for us, right? It's going to be okay.

My heart wasn't in it at all, but I was able to calm myself down enough to stop hyperventilating. The sting in my chest slowly dissipated with every calming breath I took. I looked around the room after the fog of tears had cleared from my eyes. I was calm enough to decide what to do next, at least.

I dragged myself off the floor and sat on the couch to order a replacement phone. I had to call them to make sure it would get here today because I am moving who knows where tomorrow. The sales person laughed when I said I didn't know where I was moving. Yeah, funny. Just hilarious.

Once that was done, there was only one thing left to do. I had to pack. I put on my favourite dance playlist, turned up the volume and went to the door of my apartment. As promised from the most recent Match Made message, there were boxes and other supplies waiting outside my front door. I dragged them all inside and closed the door.

Well, might as well get started. I pulled my hair up into a ponytail and let myself dance to the music as I began taping together the boxes.