My Best Friend, My Beast

Cracks in Friendship

[Nadia’s POV]

Cooking was another way of calming my mind. I didn’t have an appetite so I decided to have soup and bread for lunch. But today even chopping the vegetables wasn’t helping my nerves.

Derek hadn’t texted back and it had been an hour already. I was hungry and angry, with Derek and myself.

Being angry at Derek was legit because now that I mulled over today’s events, I couldn’t help but feel my blood boil. How dare he just spring that question upon me without any prior context? How could he think that I would be ready to be a showpiece wife until he got a real bride?

I was angry at myself for just… letting him have his way like I always did.

I felt a little betrayed at the thought of him… just asking me for this favor.

Was it a favor? Yes.

‘Is that the reason he kept me beside him for so long?’ I thought.

I shook away that thought. No, he wouldn’t be that cruel, and that would be too much of an elaborate plan. My heart and mind didn’t want to believe it because if this turned out to be true, I wouldn’t know how to deal with it.

But the other option, the one where he knew no other woman would agree as readily as me, didn’t bode well with me either. It made my heart break as well.

In the end, I was the one who was suffering.

‘He has done so much for you as well! Someone like him stayed beside you through thick and thin, so be grateful to him.’ That voice chided me again.

True… he had done so much… went out of his way to do things.

‘But I thought he…’ I didn’t let myself finish the thought.

I blinked back the tears that threatened to roll down my cheeks. I sniffled, rubbing my eyes to get rid of the unshed tears, and continued making the soup. It was what my mother used to make when it rained. The aroma and taste was rich and creamy.

I turned the heat on low and let it simmer, and was about to take out the bread, leftover from the last two days, my doorbell rang.

My heart thumped in my chest. I kept the bread back and sort of scurried to open the door. As soon as I opened I felt my heart do that funny skip.

“You are making that special soup of yours?” He asked with a jovial smile before walking past me. He had yet again left his suit jacket although now I was doubting if he even wore one today. Hi, presence somehow both dwarfed the apartment.

“Ye-yeah,” I stuttered, closing the door behind.

Something had shifted between us because this time when he entered the apartment, I felt conscious of the mess that was around. Before this, I had never had this feeling, this anxiety.

My gaze went to the empty canvas and the dry brushes. I hoped he wouldn’t notice it.

However, like always he noticed. I saw him stop on his way to the sofa and frown. Instead of waiting anxiously, I busied myself with the cooking. I took out the bread, cut four slices, and slathered some butter over it.

“Do you want to have lunch?” I asked, not turning to look at him. I was grateful that my voice didn’t quiver.

“What is this?” He asked.

“What is what?” I countered, knowing exactly what he was referring to. I fried the bread on the pan instead of repeating my question.

The silence was deafening.

I turned off the gas stove and put the fried bread on a plate. When I turned to look at him, I wished I hadn’t because I had never seen him look this angry. His cerulean blues had turned midnight blues. His frown had deepened.

“So this was the reason you always stopped me from visiting,” he said, pointing towards my art corner.

I looked away, not wanting to answer. Why must I answer him always? Like a child.

“That’s not important right now,” I mumbled.

“Oh? So your lack of inspiration is not important? So I don’t deserve to know why all of a sudden you’ve stopped painting?” He demanded.

“No, I don’t plan on explaining the reason. Also, why are you so angry about this? You never used to react this way before,” I snapped, clenching my hands into fists.

He looked stunned as if I had slapped him. I didn’t want to back down.

“You… how could you just bring up that proposal out of the blue and without even listening to what I had to say, you just slipped the ring on my finger,” I continued, my traitorous voice becoming shaky, my eyes filling with tears.

I could see his expression change, from being stunned to being perplexed and then panicking.

“I…” Derek began but I held up my hand to stop him. He looked helpless.

“I get it you are not… ready for marriage, but…think of it this way, when you find—”

My words were cut off as Derek crossed the distance between us and stepped right into my personal space. I peered at him through my lashes, the words dying in my throat once again.

His intense gaze regarded me for some time, before he said, “There… isn’t anyone for the foreseeable future.”

I felt a painful tug at my heart. What did I expect? Did I expect him to say, “There won't be anyone because you are the one”?

My inner self scoffed at the thought.

“And… what if I… I find someone?” I mumbled. My heart was rabbeting in my chest as he stepped closer, until there was a sliver of distance between us. My back hit the countertop, making me yelp. When had I begun to backtrack?

He leaned forward, so that his gaze leveled with mine. I gulped as I continued helplessly look at him helplessly. Was he going to kiss me? Like those men in dramas do?

He placed his arms on either side of me, barring me from running away, and then slowly said, “Have you found anyone until now, Dee?”

At first, I didn’t fully register the words, too busy getting lost in his twinkling gaze of his, but when I realized what he said, the glint in his eyes suddenly seemed cruel. A mocking taunt.

I stiffened and looked away. “Ah, so, you thought, ‘Hey, this girl who claims to be my best friend hasn’t found a guy until now, so let’s just get her to be a substitute for now. What does she even have, no man, no money.’ Is that the case, Derek?”

I turned to look at him again, glowering at him for the earlier humiliating words.

He remained silent, his humor was gone, and I could see his eyes were filled with regret, but at times actions triumph the regret that comes later.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he replied, stepping back and putting some space between us. “Dee, I just—”

“So tell me, Mr. Mave what are the conditions of this fake marriage?” I asked in an icy tone, interjecting him. I was not ready to hear whatever bullshit he had to say, because whatever he would say wouldn’t mend the crack that just appeared in our friendship.

I tried to keep a brave front while my insides were twisting painfully at the thought of how a few words and actions could damage a 10-year-old friendship.

Was this what Derek always thought of me? A stand-in? Was I really wrong about thinking that he would be someone who genuinely cared?

“You have done so much for me in the past 10 years, so I will try to give back all that you have done through this act,” I added in a steely voice.

Both of us continued staring at each other. Derek’s eyes held an unreadable emotion. Then he replied, “Fine, I will come back in the evening with contract papers.”