The Reluctant Agreement

Chapter 9: The Price of Jealousy (Maybe)

**Chapter 9: The Price of Jealousy (Maybe)**

Adrian’s promise to handle Sofia felt hollow. The red roses sat on my desk, a blatant reminder of her unwelcome presence. I found myself increasingly distracted, my thoughts drifting between the complexities of the Valeriano Conglomerate and the unsettling image of Sofia’s possessive gaze.

The media, of course, picked up on Sofia’s dramatic appearance at the dinner party. Tabloid headlines screamed about a “mystery woman” and questioned the authenticity of our whirlwind romance. My publicist, the unflappable Ms. Dela Cruz, worked overtime to spin the narrative, dismissing Sofia as a “distant acquaintance” and emphasizing the deep connection between Adrian and me.

But the whispers persisted, fueled by grainy paparazzi shots of Sofia looking distraught outside Adrian’s apartment building. The scrutiny was unwelcome, and it added another layer of unwanted complexity to our already precarious arrangement.

“You need to do something about her, Adrian,” I insisted during our next meeting, my voice tight with frustration. “This is reflecting badly on the company.”

Adrian looked weary. “I did talk to her, Seraphina. I made it clear that it’s over, that I’m engaged.”

“And did she listen?” I asked, gesturing to the bouquet of roses that still adorned my office.

He sighed. “Sofia… she’s not always rational. But I assure you, I’m doing everything I can.”

Despite his assurances, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Sofia was a loose cannon, capable of causing significant damage to our carefully constructed facade. And if that facade crumbled, what would become of our agreement? And more importantly, what would become of the strange, unexpected feelings that were beginning to take root within me?

One evening, I found myself restless and unable to focus on work. An uncharacteristic urge to know more about Adrian, about his life before me, overwhelmed me. Against my better judgment, I found myself scrolling through old articles and social media posts related to him.

I stumbled upon a few pictures of Adrian and Sofia together from a few years prior. They looked… happy. Comfortable. There was a genuine warmth in their smiles, a familiarity in their touch that was starkly different from the carefully orchestrated affection Adrian and I displayed.

A sharp pang, something akin to… jealousy, twisted in my gut. I quickly dismissed it. It was just curiosity, I told myself firmly. A need to understand the potential threat to our agreement. But the image of Adrian’s arm around Sofia, her head resting on his shoulder, lingered in my mind, an unwelcome intrusion.

The following weekend, my grandmother insisted on hosting a “couples’ brunch” at her sprawling estate. The idea of spending another afternoon pretending to be deeply in love while the shadow of Sofia loomed felt unbearable.

“Grandma, I really don’t feel up to it,” I tried to explain, feigning a headache.

“Nonsense, my dear,” she said, her tone brooking no argument. “It’s important for you and Adrian to spend time with your friends as a couple.”

Reluctantly, I agreed. As Adrian and I arrived at my grandmother’s estate, the air was thick with the cheerful chatter of Manila’s elite. Our friends, all impeccably dressed and radiating an air of effortless sophistication, greeted us with enthusiastic congratulations.

Throughout the brunch, Adrian was the epitome of the charming fiancé. He held my hand, made polite conversation with our friends, and even indulged in a playful banter with Isabella about wedding plans. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that his heart wasn’t entirely in it. There was a subtle reserve in his demeanor, a fleeting sadness in his eyes that I hadn’t noticed before.

As we mingled with our friends, I noticed Adrian excusing himself to take a phone call. A few minutes later, he returned, his expression troubled.

“Everything alright?” I asked, my voice low.

He hesitated. “That was Sofia. She… she’s not taking this well.”

“What did she say?” I pressed, a knot of anxiety tightening in my chest.

“She threatened to… to reveal things,” he said, his gaze avoiding mine. “Things about our past.”

Our past. The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. What secrets did Adrian hold? What was the true nature of his relationship with Sofia? And how much of it could potentially unravel the carefully constructed lie we were living?

The brunch suddenly lost its festive atmosphere. The smiles of our friends seemed strained, their congratulatory words echoing with a hint of uncertainty. Sofia’s uninvited presence had cast a long shadow over our supposed happiness, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that the carefully constructed foundation of our fake engagement was beginning to crumble under the weight of ghosts from Adrian’s past – and the unwelcome stirrings within my own guarded heart. The price of this pretense, I was beginning to realize, might be far higher than either of us had anticipated.