Chapter 4.1
1050 Words
Cracks in the Game
Mariah had always considered herself a master at playing roles. She could be charming, witty, romantic, or aloof—whatever the situation called for. But this game with Sebastian was becoming harder to control than she had expected. Every time she tried to push him away with her antics, he countered with charm and ease. It was infuriating.
Three days after the engagement party, she found herself sitting across from him at a rooftop restaurant in the city. It was supposed to be a publicity dinner—photos, media attention, and a statement of unity between their families’ empires. But the lights, cameras, and watchful eyes faded into the background as the battle between them simmered beneath the surface.
Mariah stabbed her fork into her salad. "You enjoyed that party far too much."
Sebastian sipped his wine calmly. "It was entertaining. You certainly put on a show."
"I was trying to make it unbearable."
"You succeeded. In the most bearable way possible."
She scowled. "I should’ve worn a chicken costume."
He chuckled. "You’d still find a way to look elegant."
That caught her off guard. She blinked. "Was that a compliment?"
Sebastian leaned forward slightly. "Don’t get used to it."
Their food arrived, and for a few minutes, they ate in silence. The city lights twinkled around them, and a breeze lifted strands of Mariah’s hair.
"So, what’s your next move, Mariah?" Sebastian asked casually. "Going to fake a scandal? Get caught on camera with a mystery lover?"
She shrugged. "Tempting, but no. I was thinking about pretending to be deeply spiritual and insisting on daily couples’ meditation. Maybe suggest a silent retreat for our honeymoon."
"I can meditate."
"With no speaking, no eye contact, and no phones for a full week?"
He smirked. "Try me."
She sighed dramatically. "You’re impossible to shake."
"That’s why you hate me."
Her gaze met his, and for a moment, neither of them said anything. The air shifted. There was something almost intimate about the way he was watching her, like he was trying to read behind her sarcasm.
She broke eye contact first. "It’s not hate. More like... persistent irritation."
He leaned back in his chair. "I’ll take it."
Over the next week, the media frenzy around their engagement exploded. Photos from the party flooded social media, and tabloids speculated about the wedding date, her dress designer, and the couple’s future children.
Mariah did her best to keep up appearances, but it was getting harder to remember which parts of her behavior were real and which were for show. She found herself laughing at Sebastian’s dry jokes more than she meant to. Sometimes she even forgot she was supposed to be driving him away.
Worse, he was letting his guard down too.
One night, after a charity event, they sat in the back of a limo, watching the city blur by.
"I didn’t think you’d be good with kids," Mariah said, scrolling through a photo of him letting a toddler decorate his suit jacket with stickers.
"Neither did I," he replied, glancing at the photo. "But he seemed determined."
"You let him put a dinosaur on your forehead."
"It brought him joy. And apparently, I’m ‘not scary anymore.’"
Mariah smiled. Then, without thinking, she asked, "Were you ever in love, Sebastian?"
He looked genuinely surprised. "That’s a sudden question."
"Just curious."
He was quiet for a beat. "Once. Years ago. It didn’t end well."
"She broke your heart?"
"More like I let it get broken."
Mariah tilted her head. "That’s... surprisingly honest."
"Don’t get used to it," he said, echoing his earlier words.
Later that week, Mariah met her mother for brunch, intending to get some answers. They sat on a sunny patio, sipping lattes and picking at croissants.
"Mother," Mariah began, "tell me the real reason you want this marriage to happen."
Her mother gave her a tight smile. "Sebastian is reliable, intelligent, and from a good family. It’s an ideal match."
"That’s not what I asked."
There was a long pause. Then, her mother said quietly, "Your father and I were once in love. Deeply. Passionately. And it ended in chaos."
Mariah blinked. She had never heard her mother talk about love that way.
"I want stability for you," her mother continued. "Someone who will challenge you, but also ground you. Not another whirlwind that burns out."
Mariah looked down at her hands. "But what if I don’t want stability?"
"Then you’re not ready for marriage."
Mariah thought about that for a long time after brunch. What if she wasn’t? What if she was only good at beginnings—at the rush of falling, not the reality of staying?
That evening, Sebastian texted her: Come to the garden behind the Grey Estate. No cameras. No audience.
Curious, Mariah slipped into a sundress and made her way there.
The garden was beautiful, with soft lights strung through trees and the scent of jasmine in the air. Sebastian stood near a stone fountain, holding two cups of coffee.
"You look... peaceful," he said as she approached.
"Don’t get used to it."
He handed her a cup. "No games tonight. Just us."
She narrowed her eyes. "That’s suspicious."
"Humor me."
They sat on a stone bench. For a few minutes, they drank in silence.
"I’ve been thinking," he said. "About why we’re really doing this."
"Because our parents want to rule the world through our wedding photos?"
He smiled faintly. "That, and because neither of us wants to be the one who backs down."
She nodded slowly. "So what are you saying?"
"I’m saying… maybe we stop fighting so hard."
Mariah stared at him. "You want to go along with this?"
"I’m saying… maybe we give it a real chance."
She felt something shift in her chest. "Are you serious?"
"I am. You drive me crazy, but you also make me think. Laugh. Want to be better."
She stood up quickly, overwhelmed. "I—I need time."
He nodded. "Take it."
Mariah walked home that night, her thoughts racing. Somewhere along the way, the line between game and reality had blurred. She had meant to escape this engagement. But now… she wasn’t so sure.
And for the first time in a long while, she wasn’t sure what she wanted.
- Writer
