Promises and Pomegranates by Sav R. Miller

Placing her hand on her hip, Gwen nods at the lasagna. “Aren’t you
gonna eat what you ordered?”
Her tone gnaws at my nerves, eating away at my resolve. “I don’t know.
Are you going to stand there and watch?”
“Probably not. I don’t want to bear witness when you puke your guts up.”
Rolling my eyes, I fish my phone out from my purse, checking my unread
texts. There aren’t many, a couple from Ariana asking my opinion on her
wardrobe, one from Stella saying she misses me being a buffer between her
and Ari’s fashion choices, and one from Mamá saying not to panic, because
she’s coming for me.
Apparently, even though I’ve been in Aplana over a week now and have
sent no distress signals home, my parents are still pushing the narrative that
I’m some sort of unwilling victim in this marriage.
Ironic, considering they had no problem tying me to the same fate with
another man, though I suppose my relationship with Mateo benefited them in
a way mine with Kal doesn’t.
Still, they never gave me a real choice. It was their way, or face certain
death by the hands of the Elders.
I should’ve picked death.
In the end, I feel like I did, anyway.
Typing out a quick reply to my sisters, I leave my mother’s message
unanswered, stuffing my phone back into my purse and scooting from the
booth.
Gwen quirks a blonde brow. “Leaving without paying? Classy.”
I sling my purse over my shoulder and hold it tight against my side,
unwilling to let her know that even if I wanted to pay, I wouldn’t have
anything to do it with. Not only does my super considerate husband abandon
me in town, but he also leaves me with no money or knowledge of my
whereabouts.
“Apparently my husband owns this place, so... put it on his tab or
something.”
Spinning around, I don’t wait for her response as I head for the front
door. My hand grazes the push bar at the same time someone’s fingers curl
around my elbow, yanking me backward.
My arm flails blindly, jabbing in the direction of my assailant; the back of
my hand connects with his cheek, a satisfying crack echoing through the air
as I smack him.