Chapter 6: Pressure
1417 Words
[Gabriel's POV]
“Perception matters.”
My brother Lorenzo said it, like it was the most important truth in the world.
Maybe to him, it was.
“Investors don’t just look at numbers,” he continued, leaning back in his chair like he had already won the argument. “They look at stability. Structure. Predictability.”
I didn’t respond immediately because I already knew where it was heading.
“They look at you,” he added.
There it was.
I tapped my pen once against the table. Controlled. Measured.
“And what exactly are they seeing?” I asked calmly.
My father finally spoke.
“Potential,” he said, followed by a pause.
“Unrealized.”
Not unexpected, but still annoying.
“They see someone capable,” Lorenzo continued, “but inconsistent in the areas that matter long-term.”
“Inconsistent,” I repeated flatly.
“Yes.” He leaned forward slightly. “No partner. No family structure. No personal foundation. It sends a message.”
“That I prioritize my work?” I suggested.
“That you lack permanence,” he countered, as silence settled over the room.
It felt heavy, deliberate, and strategic.
Everything about the conversation was calculated, everything except the irritation building in my chest.
“I’m not getting married for optics,” I said finally.
“You're almost 28, Gabriel,” my father replied calmly. “So, you need to start acting like someone who understands what’s expected of you,”
Expected. There it was again. It was always expectations, not choices.
Lorenzo exhaled, like he was trying to be patient.
“You don’t have to like it,” he said. “But this is how the world works. Stability equals trust. Trust equals investment.”
“And investment,” I added dryly, “equals control.”
He smiled slightly.
“Now you’re getting it.”
I held his gaze for a moment longer before rising from my seat.
“I think we’re done here.”
“Gabriel...” my father started.
“I’ll consider what you said,” I interrupted, because that was what they wanted to hear.
Not agreement, just compliance. It was enough to end the meeting, but not enough to settle anything.
The Drive Home
The city felt quieter that night, or maybe I just noticed it more when I was like that.
Thinking. Calculating. Replaying every word they said in my head.
Marriage. Stability. Image.
A solution disguised as a demand.
What they wanted was something simple.
Predictable. Controllable. A partner. A public structure, something that would make me... Easier to trust.
I exhaled slowly, loosening my grip on the steering wheel.
The thought wasn’t exactly foreign to me, having a marriage of convenience, I mean. It was a common occurrence in the world I grew up in. Seen from a logical standpoint, it was a simple solution to a lot of problems. Everyone gained something from it, either financially, politically or practically. But still, the thought of it was just unappealing to me.
Because I already knew it wouldn’t stay that simple, not for long. It would always end up with someone expecting more from the other, something real, which was something I wasn’t able to provide.
Because anything real always comes with variables, and those variables create risks, and risks were something I had spent my entire life minimizing. By the time I pulled up outside my house, my mind was already working through scenarios.
Options. Possibilities, but none of them satisfactory, and none of them immediate.
I stepped out of the car, shutting the door with more force than necessary, and that was when something caught my eye, or rather someone.
Collision
At first, my brain wouldn’t process it correctly because it didn’t make any sense.
Julia, Tyler’s girlfriend, was sitting on my doorstep.
She was curled in on herself, crying. It wasn’t subtle or quiet, not completely.
Everything else; every thought, every calculation, every lingering frustration from the meeting suddenly disappeared instantly.
“Julia?”
Her name came out sharper than I intended, making her flinch.
That alone was enough to shift something inside me. Because that was not a reaction I wanted to accept. In fact, I hated it, having that effect on her, so I proceeded to move closer, carefully this time.
“What happened?” I asked, this time quieter and more controlled, as it was replaced by something else — concern.
It was focused, direct, and unavoidable, like something I had never felt before.
She looked up slowly, and the second our eyes met, I knew.
Her red eyes, the shaking hands, and the silence that followed said enough; something had been broken.
“Gabriel...” she breathed, as she saw me, and at the same time, her breath grew more rapidly, and that was all it took for that fragile control she had been holding onto, to break.
My jaw tightened slightly.
“Talk to me,” I said, already crouching in front of her, bringing myself down to her level.
She shook her head, like if she didn’t say it, it wouldn’t become a reality.
“Julia,” I spoke calmly, as I waited for a response.
“I—didn’t—he...” She tried, but failed, as her voice collapsed again before it had fully formed, but I didn’t need the full sentence to know who she was referring to.
Tyler.
Of course, it was him.
I closed my eyes briefly, just long enough to contain my reaction. I knew seeing my anger wouldn’t help her, but the internal thoughts settled anyway.
Irresponsible. Careless. Predictable
The anger was sharp, before settling, turning into something else. Not explosive, or reckless, but something more precise. Then I opened my eyes again, instinctively reaching for her hand, too sudden, but fortunately she didn’t pull away from it.
Her hands were cold to the touch, making me wonder how long she had been sitting out there. She was shaking, and barely even responsive, making the worst possible scenario settle in my mind, something that made me want to... No. I needed to know.
“I’m gonna ask you a question,” I said, my tone steady. “And I need you to answer it truthfully.”
She looked at me, barely even holding it together.
“Did Tyler hurt you?” I asked, focusing entirely on her.
She shook her head quickly, making a small exhale leave me, and a feeling of relief settled, but only briefly, as it was immediately replaced by something much colder.
“No... not like that.”
“Of course not,” I muttered under my breath.
Of course, he chose the other way to ruin something.
Shelter
“Come inside,” I said, as I stood up, gently pulling her up with me.
She stumbled slightly, but I quickly steadied her without thinking, as I placed my hand firmly on her arm.
“I don’t want to—” she started, as her gaze was flickering toward the street like she might disappear if I let her go.
“You’re not going anywhere tonight,” I cut in. “Not like this.” My tone left little room for argument, making me see it immediately — her hesitation.
It came from a fragile space, making it possible that she could decide to say no. Choose to walk away, and shut me out, so I quickly adjusted my approach, before I spoke again, slightly softer than before.
“Julia,” I said, waiting until she looked at me. “You’re safe here.”
The words came out before I was able to evaluate them. Before, I decided if I should say them, but once they were there, I didn’t take them back because I meant them, and somehow, those words made something in her expression shift. It didn’t fix or heal what had been done, but… it seemed to anchor her.
She nodded, and that was all I needed before I carefully guided her inside, closing the door behind us. Then the quiet of the house wrapped around us immediately.
It was controlled, orderly, and predictable, just like I had left it.
The exact opposite of what she had just come from, and yet, it didn’t feel the same as it did a few hours ago. Because now she was there. Everything had suddenly shifted slightly off balance, and a single, clear thought settled in my mind:
This is not going to stay simple.
- Writer
