DINNER WITH THE MATRIARCH
1360 Words
It had been three days since the night that never happened.
Three long, silent days.
Jasmine had grown used to the soft echoes of their enormous mansion — the creak of marble floors under her bare feet, the whisper of wind brushing through the curtains, and the heavy silence that stretched between her and Meheek. He had been gone most of the time, always leaving before sunrise, returning late when the house was half asleep.
Sometimes, she heard the soft jingle of his car keys, the low baritone of his voice on the phone — all business, all command. Never once did he speak to her beyond a short “You’re awake” or “Dinner is ready.”
Jasmine didn’t know which was worse — his silence or the quiet heat of his eyes whenever their gazes crossed.
The binding ceremony hadn’t been mentioned again, yet the thought hung between them like a ghost. She was relieved, yes — but a small, curious part of her couldn’t stop wondering why he hadn’t done it. Was it reluctance? Pity? Or something darker?
That morning, she woke to the smell of burning candles and jasmine tea. The maids moved briskly, polishing the furniture and setting the table for what looked like a small feast.
“Is there an occasion?” she asked one of the maids.
The young girl smiled nervously. “Madam… Madam Selene will be visiting.”
Jasmine’s heart skipped. His mother.
The thought made her stomach twist. She had only seen Meheek’s mother once, from a distance, during the ceremonial exchange between families — a woman with silvery-black hair, regal posture, and eyes sharp enough to slice through glass.
Now she was coming here.
---
By evening, the mansion glowed in amber light. The dining table was set with gold-trimmed plates, the aroma of roasted duck and herb soup filling the air. Jasmine smoothed her dress for what felt like the tenth time, her palms clammy.
She had chosen a soft cream gown — modest but elegant — one that made her look less like a stranger in her own home.
The doors opened, and Madam Selene swept in, surrounded by quiet authority. She looked every bit the queen she was — in a deep sapphire gown, pearls lining her throat, her eyes carrying the kind of warmth that didn’t quite reach her smile.
“Mother,” Meheek greeted, kissing her cheek.
“My son,” she said softly, her tone like velvet laced with steel. Her gaze flicked toward Jasmine, scanning her from head to toe before she smiled again. “And this must be the young lady who has turned my son into a married man.”
Jasmine bowed slightly. “Good evening, ma’am.”
“Selene,” the older woman corrected gently. “No need for ma’am. We’re family now.”
Family.
The word hit Jasmine harder than expected.
They sat. Dinner began. The maids served carefully, every clink of the cutlery amplified by the silence.
Selene chatted about trivial things — the weather, her garden, Meheek’s recent business ventures. Jasmine only nodded when spoken to, her hands folded neatly on her lap.
Then, just as the tension began to ease, Selene placed her fork down and looked at Jasmine with a mother’s too-sweet smile.
“So tell me, dear,” she began, “how have you been settling in? I imagine the transition must be… exciting.”
“It’s been fine,” Jasmine replied softly. “Everyone’s been kind.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” Selene took a sip of her wine. “I was a little worried, you see. My son tends to be… distant. But I’m sure marriage will soften him, hmm?”
Meheek gave his mother a calm, warning glance. “Mother.”
Selene chuckled. “Oh, come now. I’m only saying what’s true. Every man changes once he has a wife and children.” She turned her gaze to Jasmine again, her eyes gleaming. “Speaking of which… it’s about time we start thinking of grandchildren, isn’t it?”
Jasmine froze.
Her breath caught, and she could feel Meheek’s stare burning against her cheek.
“Mother,” he said quietly, but Selene waved him off.
“I’m simply concerned,” she continued sweetly. “The family name must continue. You both are still young, full of life. There’s no reason to delay such important things.”
Jasmine lowered her eyes. The words pressed against her like invisible hands, suffocating her.
Selene smiled, but it was the kind of smile that made the room feel colder. “You must take the essential procedures seriously, my dear. The ancestors do not bless a union that remains unfulfilled. Isn’t that right, Meheek?”
Meheek didn’t answer immediately. His jaw tightened, and when he finally spoke, his tone was calm but sharp enough to cut.
“The timing will be decided by us, Mother.”
Selene’s expression faltered, just slightly, before her smile returned. “Of course, darling. I trust your judgment.”
She reached out, patting Jasmine’s hand gently. “Don’t take it the wrong way, dear. I only want what’s best for this family — and for you.”
Jasmine nodded, though her throat felt dry. “I understand.”
---
The rest of dinner passed in strained silence.
When Selene finally left, the house felt heavier than before.
Jasmine stayed behind to help clear the table, though the maids protested. She needed the distraction — anything to drown out the echo of Selene’s words.
Grandchildren. Procedures. Fulfilled.
Each word stung.
Each one reminded her that no matter what kindness they showed, she was still a transaction, a signed deal — a body traded for family debts.
Later that night, she sat by the window of her room, staring at the moon through the glass. The silver light fell softly across her face, and her thoughts spun in endless circles.
She didn’t notice when Meheek entered until his reflection appeared beside hers.
“She shouldn’t have said that,” he said quietly.
Jasmine turned, startled. He was leaning against the doorframe, sleeves rolled up, his tie loosened. There was something dark and unreadable in his expression.
“She’s your mother,” Jasmine said, forcing a small smile. “She meant well.”
“No,” he replied. “She meant pressure. That’s different.”
The silence between them thickened again.
Jasmine swallowed hard, her voice trembling just slightly. “She’s right, though. I’m… not really fulfilling anything, am I?”
His gaze snapped to her, sharp and dangerous. “Don’t say that.”
“Why not?” she whispered. “It’s true, isn’t it? You haven’t even—”
“Enough.” His voice came out low, almost a growl.
The air around them crackled. Jasmine’s pulse raced, fear and something else twisting in her stomach. She stood, suddenly too aware of the closeness between them.
He took a slow step forward. Then another.
“You think I’m avoiding you out of disgust?” he asked, voice rough. “You think I don’t want to touch you?”
Jasmine’s breath hitched.
“I don’t know what to think,” she whispered.
He stopped just inches away, his scent — cedar and smoke — surrounding her. His eyes searched hers, then softened, though his voice stayed deep and steady.
“I’m waiting,” he said. “Not because of you. Because of what binds us. Once it starts… it can’t be undone.”
Jasmine blinked, confusion and curiosity swirling together. “Then why wait?”
He gave a faint, humorless smile. “Because once you’re mine, there’s no going back.”
The words sent a shiver through her.
And for a fleeting second, she wondered if what she felt was fear — or something dangerously close to longing.
---
That night, Jasmine lay awake, her mind chasing the meaning of his words.
And somewhere down the hall, in his private study, Meheek poured himself a drink and stared into the dark — because for the first time, the thought of her leaving him one day scared him more than any war
- Writer
