WHAT AWAITED US AT THE OFFICE
1173 Words
The Andrew tower was dark at 10: 17 p.m., except for the top floor. Every light was on. Daniel didn't speak on the drive, and I didn't speak either. We both knew if we started talking, we would say something we couldn't take back, something we would regret at the end of the day. The elevator ride up felt like falling. 38 floors, no music, just the sound of my heart beating fast and Daniel's thumb tapping against his thighs. We were both quiet and looked at each other at every chance we had.
The door opened. Both our fathers were there at the conference table with a folder open in the middle and two lawyers standing behind them like guards. No wine nor dinner, it was an interrogation. "Shut the door," Mr Andrew said. Daniel did almost immediately. Mr Nicholas looked at me, then at Daniel, then at our hands. We were not touching, we hadn't touched since we got in the car.
The atmosphere was thick enough to cut in, the kitchen chefs moved fast, plating different dishes, the clatter of pans and sharp calls barely covering the silence from the dining room. The waiters stood in a line by the doors, trays balanced, waiting for a signal that never came. No one touched their water. No one laughed. I could feel it in how everyone sat too straight, in the way the head of the table never looked down at the food. With that kind of air in the room, I knew the meal was just for show.
And I was right, it wasn’t a meeting, it was an interrogation. "Sit," Mr Nicholas said. We sat across them, still not touching each other. The folder was between us, in the front, in black marker: Andrew-Nicholas Marriage contracts: terms and violation. My blood went cold. "What is this?" Daniel asked, his voice was steady but too careful. Mr Andrew slid the folder towards us. "Open it." Daniel's hand hovered for a second, then he flipped it open and started scrolling.
Inside the folder were photos of us at the gala, us at the board dinner, us in the car leaving the restaurant tonight. All normal, smiling and fake. And then screenshot of text messages I thought I had deleted.
"It's me, I'm sorry, I yelled, Daniel." "I'm sorry too. Amara."
Next page was a printed note with my handwriting. Rule 1: No emotions, Rule 2: No touching, Rule 3: No interfering, and then Rule 7: Don't care.
The rules from my note app. How did they........ ? "I synced your iCloud to the family account when you were 16, for emergencies," my father said quietly. I felt sick. "That is an invasion of privacy."
"This is business," Mr Andrew snapped. "You two made a contract with us, and now you're breaking it." Daniel closed the folder slowly. "We're not breaking anything, the merger is fine, so is the public appearance, so what more do you want?"
"What we want is a real marriage," Mr Nicholas said. The word hit like a slap. A real marriage? A real marriage when we didn’t even have a good relationship? Being forced to get married without us dating first? All of that kept ringing in my head. I kept staring at the ring like it was evidence. Proof that decisions were made for me, not with me. I smiled for photos because that’s what was expected. But inside I was counting the days I’d never gotten to choose each other.
"What does that even mean?" I asked. "It means you stop pretending, no separate rooms, no rules, no counting down days until you can file for divorce," Mr Andrew said. "How do you know about the divorce?" Daniel's voice cracked. "Because you put it in the writing" Mr Nicholas tapped the folder. The lawyers shifted behind them in silence.
My father leaned forward: "So here's what's going to happen. Starting tomorrow, you move into the same room, you attend every event together, you eat together, and you act like husband and wife not business partners."
"And if we don't?" Daniel asked. Mr Andrew smiled, but it wasn't kind. Then the merger is off, the contract void, and more people will lose their jobs, starting with the people you care about. He meant our driver and the housekeeper, the same names he used to trap Daniel before, the same people he used to force us into getting married.
The room went quiet. I could hear the AC, I could hear my heart beating fast, I could hear the waiters moving slowly in the kitchen. Daniel looked at me, he really looked at me and I saw in his eyes the same thing I felt. Trapped again, trapped again like that of the wedding.
"Do you understand?" Mr Nicholas asked. Daniel didn't answer, neither did I. Finally, I nodded once. Daniel did too. "Good," Mr Andrew said, he stood up, looked at me, then looked at Daniel and said, "You can go home now." We stood up, slowly walking out. We didn't speak in the elevator and also didn't speak in the car, no one uttered a word we just sat in the car lost in thought.
When we got home, Daniel stopped at the bottom of the stairs, looked up at the hallway, two doors and two rooms. Then he looked at me. "Pack your things out of the guest room and go to the main room," he said quietly.
I went upstairs, opened the guest room door, and started pulling my clothes out of the wardrobe. Then I went to my dressing table to pack my cosmetics. I sat on the chair and looked at myself in the mirror, thinking about everything that’s been happening lately. My face looked dull and exhausted from all the stress I’ve been carrying. I brushed the thought aside and kept packing.
The room was quiet except for the sound of hangers scraping and the zip of my bag. I folded things without really seeing them. In the mirror, the bags under my eyes told a story I wasn’t ready to say out loud.
For a second I let myself feel it. The weight, the tiredness, the questions I’ve been dodging. Then I took a deep breath, capped the last perfume bottle and closed the bag. Whatever was waiting downstairs could wait five more minutes. I owed myself that pause.
Footsteps sounded in the hall. Downstairs, the front door clicked, like someone had just let themselves in and neither of us had given anyone a key. Who could have let themselves in?
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD