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Amara did not expect to hear from Kieran so soon.
After they left the restaurant the previous afternoon, she had spent the rest of the day trying not to think about him.
It didn't work.
She thought about him while sitting in the taxi, while helping her mother in the kitchen, and while her sisters argued over something as small as who had used the last piece of soap.
She even thought about him when she finally went to bed.
Not because she liked him.
At least, that was what she told herself.
There was simply something about him that made her curious.
He was different from the men she had met before. He hadn't tried to impress her or flirt with her. He hadn't showered her with compliments or asked for her number, so he could spend the entire day sending messages.
He had simply sat across from her and talked about marriage as though they were discussing a business agreement.
Strangely, that was what made her comfortable.
Her phone vibrated beside her.
Amara reached for it.
Kieran: Are you free tomorrow?
She stared at the message.
I have work.
His response came quickly.
After work.
Where?
A location appeared.
A quiet office building in the city.
Amara frowned.
Your office?
Yes.
She stared at the screen.
She suddenly felt nervous.
Why there?
His reply took longer.
Because if we're going to discuss something this serious, I'd rather do it somewhere private.
She understood.
What time?
Six.
She checked the time.
She could make it.
Okay.
She put the phone down and turned off the light.
Then she remembered something.
She picked up her phone again.
Kieran?
Yes?
Are your daughters aware you're looking for someone?
There was a pause.
No.
Why?
Because I don't introduce people into their lives unless I'm certain they belong there.
Amara read the message slowly.
For some reason, that answer stayed with her.
She put the phone down.
This time, she didn't pick it up again.
The following day passed slowly.
Amara stood in front of her Grade Two class, helping the pupils with their reading.
"Everyone together," she said.
The children repeated the sentence.
One little girl raised her hand.
"Teacher Amara?"
"Yes?"
"Can I read?"
"Of course."
The girl stood and began reading. She stumbled over a word.
"Try it again," Amara said gently.
The girl did, and this time she got it right.
The smile on the child's face made Amara smile too.
These were the moments she loved.
Small.
Simple.
Real.
She looked around the classroom. Pictures covered the walls. Alphabet charts, numbers, drawings the children had made, and a colourful paper flower someone had given her the previous week.
This was where she felt most like herself.
Children didn't care whether she was married. They didn't ask why she was thirty four and still single. They didn't look at her as though something was wrong with her because she hadn't found a husband.
They simply called her Teacher Amara.
And sometimes, that was enough.
When the school day ended, she packed her things slowly.
Her colleague, Mrs. Daniel, walked into the classroom.
"You're still here?"
"I'm almost done."
Mrs. Daniel looked at her.
"You're going somewhere?"
Amara paused.
"Yes."
"Where?"
"Just somewhere."
Her colleague smiled.
"Amara, you're thirty-four. You can tell me you're going on a date."
Amara laughed.
"It's not a date."
"Then what is it?"
"A conversation."
"With a man?"
She looked at her.
"Yes."
Mrs. Daniel's eyes widened.
"Ah."
Amara shook her head.
"Don't start."
"I didn't say anything."
"But your face did."
Her colleague laughed.
"Maybe this one will finally be different."
Amara smiled politely.
"Maybe. But I'm not expecting it to be."
Mrs. Daniel studied her.
"You've really given up on love, haven't you?"
"I'm just being careful."
"That's what everyone says."
Amara laughed.
"Goodbye, Mrs. Daniel."
She picked up her handbag and left.
At six minutes past six, Amara stepped into the building.
She had arrived early again.
A receptionist looked up.
"I'm here to see Mr. Hawthorne."
"Your name?"
"Amara Bennett."
The receptionist checked her computer.
"He's expecting you."
Amara thanked her and followed the directions to the lift.
As she watched the numbers change, she suddenly felt nervous.
This wasn't a café anymore.
This was his world.
His office.
His life.
And she was about to walk into it.
The lift doors opened.
A man was standing near the end of the corridor.
"Kieran?"
He turned.
"You're early."
She looked at him.
"You're repeating yourself."
For the first time, something close to amusement appeared in his eyes.
"Come in."
He opened the door.
Amara entered.
The office was large but surprisingly simple. There was a huge desk near the window, a few chairs and a bookshelf.
Nothing excessive.
No photographs of expensive cars. No trophies. No unnecessary decorations.
She looked around.
"I expected something different."
"Like what?"
"Something extravagant."
"I don't like unnecessary things."
She nodded.
That seemed to fit him.
He walked toward the desk.
"Sit."
She sat opposite him.
He took the chair and placed a folder on the desk.
Amara looked at it.
"What is that?"
"The agreement."
Her eyes widened.
"You already prepared one?"
"I said I wanted to discuss marriage."
"Yes, but I didn't expect a document."
"I'm a careful man."
"I noticed."
He opened the folder.
"I want everything clear before either of us makes a decision."
He pushed the first page toward her.
"First condition."
She looked down.
No romantic expectations.
She looked up.
"That one is obvious."
"Not necessarily."
"What do you mean?"
"People change. We shouldn't assume we know what will happen."
She almost smiled.
"You're worried I'll fall in love with you?"
"I'm saying we shouldn't make assumptions."
"You're being practical."
"Exactly."
He continued.
"Second. We respect each other's privacy."
"Fine."
"Third. We don't interfere with each other's work."
"Fine."
"Fourth. You will continue teaching if you want to."
She looked at him.
"If I want to?"
"You won't be required to stop working."
"Good."
That was one thing she had been worried about.
She loved teaching. She wasn't prepared to give it up simply because she became someone's wife.
He paused.
"Fifth. This concerns my daughters."
Amara straightened.
"I expected that."
"You will never discipline them physically."
"I wouldn't."
"You won't speak badly about their mother in front of them."
"Of course."
"And you won't make promises to them that you can't keep."
"I understand."
Kieran's expression became serious.
"They've already lost one parent emotionally."
Amara's expression changed.
She knew his marriage had ended, but he had never told her everything.
She had noticed that he became quieter whenever the subject came close to his past.
She wasn't going to force him to explain.
"I don't know everything that happened," she said.
His face remained unreadable.
"But I know enough to understand why you're careful with them."
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then he looked down at the document.
"That's enough for now."
Amara nodded.
She didn't ask another question.
Whatever had happened between him and his former wife was something he would tell her when he was ready.
If he ever was.
She looked at the folder.
"My conditions."
He leaned back.
"I'm listening."
"I want to be treated with respect."
"You will."
"I don't want servants following me around."
His eyebrow rose.
"You don't?"
"No. I can take care of myself."
"You'll have household staff."
"I understand that. But I don't need them following me everywhere."
"Fine."
"I also want to visit my family."
"Whenever you want."
"And I want to continue seeing them."
"Of course."
She looked at him.
"And I don't want money used against me."
His expression became serious.
"It won't be."
"Good."
She took a breath.
"There's one more thing."
"What?"
"I don't want you to expect me to act like your wife when we're alone."
He looked at her.
"What do you mean?"
"I understand that we will have to act like a married couple around family."
"Yes."
"But when we're alone, I don't want us pretending."
His eyes remained on hers.
"I agree."
"Good."
She hadn't realized how important that condition was until he accepted it.
She didn't want to come home every night and pretend they were deeply in love.
She wanted the arrangement to remain what it was.
An arrangement.
He closed the folder.
"Then there's only one thing left."
"What?"
"The children."
Amara's heart gave a small jump.
"They need to meet you."
She hadn't expected that so soon.
"Already?"
"They should know who you are before anything becomes official."
She swallowed.
"Are they difficult?"
Kieran's expression softened.
"No. They're just protective of me."
Amara smiled.
"Children can be."
"They're also very different from each other."
"Twins can be."
He looked at her.
"You seem comfortable around children."
"I am."
"Why?"
She smiled.
"Because they don't make things complicated."
Kieran almost smiled.
"Mine do."
She laughed softly.
"Maybe because they're yours."
He looked away.
It was the first time Amara saw him look almost embarrassed.
For a moment, the serious man sitting across from her disappeared, and she saw an ordinary father who cared about his daughters.
Kieran stood.
"I'll arrange for you to meet them."
"When?"
"This weekend."
Amara nodded.
"Okay."
He gathered the papers.
"Take the agreement home."
"I need to read it?"
"Of course."
"What if I don't agree with something?"
"Tell me."
"And if I change my mind?"
He stopped.
"You can."
She blinked.
"You wouldn't be angry?"
"No."
"Even after all this?"
"I'd rather you change your mind now than after you enter my home."
Amara nodded slowly.
That answer made her respect him.
Perhaps he really was different.
Perhaps.
She stood.
"I'll read it."
Kieran nodded.
She walked toward the door.
Then he spoke.
"Amara."
She turned.
"Yes?"
He looked at her for a moment.
"Don't marry me because you're afraid you won't find anyone else."
Her expression changed.
"I'm not."
"Good."
He looked away.
"Because I don't want to be someone's last option."
Amara stared at him.
For some reason, that sentence hurt.
Not because he had insulted her, but because she understood exactly what he meant.
She quietly opened the door.
"You aren't."
Then she left.
Kieran remained standing in his office.
He looked at the door after it closed.
He didn't know why her answer stayed in his mind.
You aren't.
Two simple words, yet somehow they had sounded more sincere than anything he had heard in a long time.
When Amara got home that evening, her mother was waiting.
"You came late."
"I had somewhere to go."
Her mother looked at her carefully.
"Where?"
"To see someone."
Her mother's eyes immediately brightened.
"A man?"
Amara sighed.
"Yes."
Her mother sat up.
"Who?"
"It's nothing serious."
"Then why are you smiling?"
Amara touched her face.
"I'm not smiling."
"You are."
Her two sisters appeared from the hallway.
"What happened?"
"Amara met a man," her mother announced.
"Mum!"
Her sisters burst into laughter.
Amara shook her head.
"I haven't married anybody."
Her mother smiled.
"Nobody said you have."
But the happiness in her mother's eyes made Amara's chest tighten.
She didn't want to give her false hope.
Not yet.
She went into her room and placed Kieran's folder on the bed.
Then she stared at it.
A marriage agreement.
She opened it.
She began reading.
No romantic expectations.
Separate personal finances.
Mutual respect.
Privacy.
Care for the children.
Public appearance as husband and wife.
Family obligations.
At the bottom of the page was a sentence that made her stop.
Either party may end the arrangement if the agreed terms are no longer suitable.
Amara read it twice.
Then she slowly closed the folder.
This was supposed to be simple.
Two people.
One arrangement.
No love.
No heartbreak.
No promises.
Yet for the first time since she met Kieran, she felt afraid.
Not of him.
Not of the marriage.
But the possibility it may not work.
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