Eighteen
1268 Words
By the next morning, it was impossible to pretend nothing had shifted.
I felt it the moment I walked into the kitchen.
Max was already there.
Of course he was.
Coffee in hand. Phone on the counter. Calm, composed, exactly as he always was.
Like the night before hadn’t happened.
Like we hadn’t stood there—too close, too aware, one step away from breaking the very rules we’d set.
“Morning,” he said, glancing up briefly.
“Morning.”
I moved to the other side of the kitchen, putting just enough space between us to feel safe.
Normal.
Controlled.
“Sleep?” he asked.
“Eventually.”
He nodded once. “Good.”
That was it.
No mention of the tension.
No acknowledgement of what had almost happened.
Just… back to normal.
And for some reason—
That bothered me.
⸻
Elena appeared not long after, tablet already in hand.
“You’re needed at eleven,” she said. “Press appearance. Short.”
“Press?” I repeated.
Max didn’t look up. “It’s expected.”
“Of course it is.”
Elena smiled slightly. “You’ll be fine.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
“Everyone keeps saying that,” I muttered.
“And so far, you have been,” she replied.
I couldn’t argue with that.
⸻
The press event was worse than the luncheon.
More people.
More eyes.
More attention.
Cameras flashed the moment we stepped out of the car.
I instinctively stiffened.
“Relax,” Max murmured beside me.
“I am relaxed.”
“You’re not breathing.”
I inhaled sharply.
“Better,” he said.
His hand settled at the small of my back again.
Familiar now.
Steady.
Grounding.
And that was the problem.
Because it felt natural.
Too natural.
⸻
“Max!” someone called.
“Over here!”
“Who is she?”
The questions came quickly.
Sharp.
Curious.
Intrusive.
Max didn’t hesitate.
He turned slightly toward me, his hand firm against my back.
“My wife,” he said.
The word hit again.
Stronger this time.
Because now—
People were watching.
Really watching.
And suddenly, I understood something.
This wasn’t just about saying it.
It was about showing it.
I lifted my chin slightly, forcing confidence I didn’t feel.
“Hi,” I said, keeping my voice steady.
A few cameras clicked faster.
Someone stepped forward.
“This is unexpected, Mr. Charles,” a reporter said. “You’ve been very private about your personal life.”
Max’s grip didn’t shift.
“Things change,” he replied.
“And your wife?” the reporter pressed. “Where did you meet?”
I hesitated.
Just for a second.
Max didn’t.
“Through mutual connections,” he said smoothly.
Lie.
But a convincing one.
“And the sudden marriage?”
“Personal decision,” he replied. “Not a public discussion.”
That shut it down quickly.
Efficient.
Controlled.
I glanced at him.
He didn’t look at me.
But I could feel the awareness.
The connection.
The way we were moving in sync without even trying.
And for a moment—
It felt real.
⸻
Inside, the atmosphere shifted.
Less chaotic.
More controlled.
But the attention didn’t disappear.
If anything, it sharpened.
People watched us.
Whispered.
Speculated.
“You’re being studied,” I murmured.
“I know.”
“That’s not comforting.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
“I’m not sure I want to.”
“That’s not really an option.”
I sighed softly. “Of course it isn’t.”
⸻
A man approached.
Older. Confident.
The kind of presence that carried weight.
“Max,” he said. “You’ve been busy.”
Max nodded slightly. “Always.”
The man’s gaze moved to me.
Sharp.
Assessing.
“And this must be your wife.”
“Maya,” Max said.
I smiled politely. “Nice to meet you.”
The man studied me for a moment longer than necessary.
Then—
“Interesting,” he said.
I’d heard that word too many times already.
“What does that mean?” I asked lightly.
He smiled.
“It means you’re unexpected.”
“I’m getting that a lot today.”
“Get used to it,” he replied.
I forced a smile.
But inside—
Something tightened.
Because unexpected didn’t always mean welcome.
⸻
“You’re doing well,” Max said quietly once we were alone again.
“I feel like I’m being analysed.”
“You are.”
“Great.”
“But you’re holding your own.”
I glanced at him. “Barely.”
“That’s enough.”
His tone was calm.
Reassuring.
And again—
That feeling.
That pull.
The one I wasn’t supposed to be noticing.
⸻
“Max.”
The voice cut through the moment.
Cold.
Smooth.
Familiar.
I turned.
Victoria.
Of course.
She approached slowly, her gaze fixed on me this time.
Not him.
Me.
“Still here,” she said.
“I live here now,” I replied calmly.
A small smile touched her lips.
“But for how long?”
The question wasn’t casual.
It wasn’t curiosity.
It was a challenge.
Max stepped slightly closer to me.
Subtle.
Protective.
“As long as necessary,” he said.
Victoria’s eyes flicked to him briefly.
Then back to me.
“You’re adapting quickly,” she said.
“I don’t have much choice.”
“Choice is always an illusion,” she replied.
I frowned slightly. “That sounds dramatic.”
“It’s realistic.”
Something in her tone made my skin prickle again.
Like there was more behind the words.
Something I wasn’t fully understanding yet.
“Victoria,” Max said, his tone sharper now.
She held his gaze for a moment.
Then smiled.
“Enjoy your event,” she said.
And walked away.
⸻
“That woman doesn’t like me,” I muttered.
“She doesn’t matter.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
“It doesn’t feel true.”
He didn’t respond.
And that told me everything.
⸻
The rest of the event blurred slightly.
More conversations.
More eyes.
More pressure.
But through all of it—
Something became clear.
I wasn’t just pretending anymore.
Not fully.
Because the way Max stayed close…
The way his hand lingered slightly longer…
The way we moved together without thinking…
It didn’t feel forced.
It felt natural.
And that was the problem.
⸻
Back in the car, I let out a breath.
“That was worse,” I said.
“I told you it would be.”
“I hate that you’re always right.”
“It’s a habit.”
I smiled faintly.
Then—
“They’re suspicious,” I said.
“Of course they are.”
“Because of me.”
“Because of us.”
I glanced at him.
“Same thing.”
“Not quite.”
Silence settled.
Then—
“You handled it well,” he said.
“I’m starting to think you say that so I don’t panic.”
“It’s working.”
“Barely.”
A faint smile touched his lips.
And just like that—
The tension eased again.
⸻
But as the car pulled away…
I looked out the window.
At the people.
The city.
The life I used to know.
And something settled quietly in my chest.
This was changing.
Not just my situation.
Not just my life.
Me.
Because I wasn’t just surviving this anymore.
I was stepping into it.
Becoming part of it.
And that was far more dangerous than anything else.
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