Creative fun in
the palm of your hand.
Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1529981
by Bec
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Family · #1529981
A materialistic girl just got engaged to a rich man... drama follows
He looked earnestly into my eyes, and I looked back

Oh no… he was asking the question… I didn’t really want to get married at 19, but I would never turn him down…

I watched him slowly kneel before me. My outer expression showered loved and a thrill for the oncoming words, as I cursed quietly inside. Despite this, I was determined to make the most of it. I wanted a big, poofy, white dress with a train for our wedding; something traditional and outrageously expensive. It wasn’t like his mummy couldn’t buy one for him.

So he proposed to me. I doubted he would come up with a romantic speech to go with the ring, and the ‘will you marry me’ line, but he did. Unfortunately, I can’t remember a word of it

After the mini debate in my head was over, I did my best to look pleasantly surprised, accepted the ring, and let him put it on my left hand. I knew he would fall for the look. I’m going to be an actress someday.

The next day, having a coffee with my girlfriends, I realized how popular you suddenly become when you just get engaged. Everyone wanted to see the ring, know exactly when and where we were, and all those sorts of things… it was ridiculous! It was nice to be popular like that for a few days though…

I cam home a little before 6, so I could start preparing dinner. I had a bag of new outfits, and plenty of credit card bills for Frankie to pay; he wouldn’t mind.

I started chopping vegetables for a stir-fry, when I heard someone speak. This was weird because I had thought I was alone. Obviously not.

I cautiously checked each room of our beach-side apartment. I came to the bedroom, and heard someone say my fiancé’s name. I angrily but stealthily opened the door a crack. Frankie and my now ex-friend Maddy were sitting on our bed, madly kissing each other. Thank goodness they weren’t in the bed, or I’d become a murderess…

But what was I supposed to do now? Walk away and pretend nothing ever happened? It might work, but I’d be holding a silent grudge forever. How cold anyone pledge to love someone who had cheated on you before your own eyes? I certainly couldn’t, but I didn’t see anything else I could do right then.

Maddy started making moves toward the bed. I didn’t want to watch. I didn’t want Frankie to hear my heart shatter, so I looked away, but to my relief, I heard Frankie speak.

“No, Maddy. That’s far enough… my fiancée is going to kill me!” Oh yes she would…

I saw them getting up, so I quickly chose an alibi. I swiftly walked outside the apartment. I shoved my key down the bottom of my bag, and hid as Maddy walked out the door. I knocked, and Frankie answered, looking flustered and very guilty. I didn’t comment.

I finished making dinner, and served it. Frankie would be an awful actor. Or maybe not. He seemed to be playing it up so much I wondered what else he’d been up to. There was almost no conversation over dinner, until I finally asked.

“Frankie, honey, what’s wrong? You look very upset. You can talk to me, you know.” But we both knew I wouldn’t be a good person to tell about it, but Frankie was all about the truth.

“Well… Chels… I love you… I promise…” he began, dropping his fork onto his plate. “I’m not having an affair, but I… I kissed Maddy… I pretty much made out with her…” I already knew this. I’d seen him do it. Why then, was my face twisting with agony? If I had to marry anyone, it’d be Frankie; whether he cheated once or not, he was still my Frankie.

He saw my face, and his own crumpled with remorse. He stood up from the table and enveloped me in a bear hug. I didn’t want it, but I didn’t push him off, and he didn’t let go.

“I’ll make it up to you- I promise I will Chelsea-bear…” he pleaded. I nodded through my tears. He better make it up to me…

And he tried so hard- for a week. He took me to a new, expensive restaurant every night, and ordered me the most expensive, delicious option on the menu. He bought me three new outfits a day. He took me to whatever movie I could ever want to see. It was nice, but it was all material. It confirmed my knowledge that he was massively rich, but it didn’t restore any bonds that had been broken.


I never thought I’d be able to leave someone with so much money, who also liked to let me play with it. My friends say I made the best choice I could have. The material things stopped after a week anyway. My wardrobe overflowed and I gained a few kilos.

Frankie was watching TV; I think it was the Simpsons, when I came into the lounge room to tell him I was leaving. He cried and cried, and asked me if those dresses meant nothing to me at all. I pointed to a pile of bags and told him I liked them very much and would be taking them with me. He didn’t like that very much…

Frankie was lovely on the surface. He wasn’t stingy-he had enough money to swim in; He was a relatively good person, he didn’t do drugs, smoke, swear much, or get drunk. But he wasn’t as nice when you got to know him proper and deep. The world had been designed to revolve around him, but God must have gotten something wrong, he must have supposed. He told me I had used him to get his money, and I retorted that I had put up with rumors he only wanted an attractive lady by his side. And then I left, taking my 16 bags with me.

Three years later, I had given up looking deep for good souls in rich, selfish men. I married a man I truly loved, and we live happily together in a small house with a mortgage. I want to have children before I get too old, but when I do have them, I know they won’t have the money like they would have if Frankie was their father, but they’ll have a much nicer upbringing all the same.

I’ve still got those 21 outfits somewhere. They’ve probably gone out of fashion by now. I never wore them anyway…

© Copyright 2009 Bec (becxx at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1529981