Chapter 6
849 Words
The Fragile Truce
The tension between Mariah and Sebastian didn’t vanish overnight. While their emotional breakthrough had created a sense of closeness, it didn’t erase the lingering habits of avoidance, sharp remarks, or the constant need to test each other's sincerity.
Still, something had shifted. And neither of them wanted to go back.
The first real test of their fragile truce came the following week, during a charity gala hosted by Sebastian’s firm. Their first public appearance since the tabloid drama.
Mariah stood in front of the mirror in a satin emerald gown that clung to her like ambition. Her hair was pinned high, her makeup sharp and intentional. She looked like she belonged in the room she was about to enter—but inside, she was a mess of nerves.
Sebastian stepped out from his bedroom, adjusting his cufflinks. He looked at her through the mirror and smiled, slow and quiet.
“You look incredible,” he said simply.
She turned. “We have to be convincing tonight.”
He walked over and took her hand. “We just have to be ourselves.”
“That’s what worries me,” she murmured, but didn’t pull away.
---
The gala was a sea of tailored suits, clinking glasses, and whispered alliances. Mariah moved through it like a pro, flashing practiced smiles, delivering practiced compliments. But she felt Sebastian’s presence at her side the entire night—steady, grounding, real.
And then, she saw her.
A tall, graceful woman in a navy gown. Perfect posture. Polished beauty.
Clarisse Davenport.
Sebastian’s ex.
Mariah’s stomach tightened.
Clarisse approached with a neutral smile. “Sebastian. It’s been a while.”
He nodded politely. “Clarisse.”
Her gaze flicked to Mariah. “And you must be the fiancée.”
Mariah returned the smile with her own version of polite poison. “You must be the past.”
Clarisse raised an eyebrow. “Charming.”
Mariah didn’t flinch. “I try.”
Sebastian cleared his throat. “Mariah, could you excuse us for a moment?”
She hesitated but stepped away.
At the bar, Mariah ordered a drink. She wasn’t jealous, exactly. But something about Clarisse’s presence triggered that old, aching insecurity. The feeling of being the temporary one. The placeholder.
“Don’t do that,” a voice said.
She turned. Sebastian.
“Don’t disappear into your head. Nothing Clarisse says or does changes what we’re building.”
Mariah met his gaze. “You dated her for two years.”
“Yes. And I left that behind for a reason.”
“Why?”
“Because she was cold. Because she was predictable. Because she didn’t challenge me.”
Mariah exhaled. “And what am I?”
“A storm,” he said. “And I’m learning how to dance in it.”
---
That night, back at her place, they undressed slowly—not just physically, but emotionally.
Mariah rested her head against his chest. “You scare me sometimes.”
“Why?”
“Because I actually want this to last.”
Sebastian kissed her forehead. “Then let’s stop being afraid and start being honest.”
---
The next few weeks became a new kind of rhythm. Late-night talks. Quiet mornings. Real arguments that didn’t end in running away. It wasn’t perfect, but it was real.
But real doesn’t mean easy.
During a high-pressure pitch meeting for a major brand, Mariah overheard two executives talking:
“She’s only getting this account because she’s Grey’s fiancée.”
The words hit her like a slap.
Later, she confronted Sebastian in his office.
“I need to know something,” she said, pacing.
He looked up, calm. “Okay.”
“Did you pull strings to get me that campaign?”
“No,” he said firmly. “You were on the shortlist long before we were even civil. I didn’t intervene.”
“But people think—”
“Let them think. You earned it. You don’t owe anyone proof.”
Mariah sat down, deflated. “I hate that I’m questioning everything.”
“That’s because you’ve spent your whole life bracing for betrayal. Maybe it’s time to trust that someone’s not out to break you.”
She looked at him. “And you think that someone is you?”
He didn’t blink. “I know it is.”
---
That night, she called Elise.
“I think I love him,” she said quietly.
Her sister smiled over the phone. “Of course you do. You’re just scared because this time, love isn’t a rollercoaster. It’s a slow burn.”
Mariah was silent.
“And guess what?” Elise added. “A slow burn doesn’t fizzle out. It lasts.”
---
The next morning, Mariah woke to a handwritten note on her nightstand.
“There’s strength in staying. —S”
She held the paper in her hand for a long time. Not because of what it said—but because it meant he understood her, even when she didn’t speak.
And maybe, just maybe, she could finally learn how to stay.
- Writer
