Familiar Strangers

Housing Arrangement

Marissa had been waiting outside the Obsidian Estate for the past thirty minutes. After pacing back and forth from the park, checking if Antonio had returned, and blowing up his phone with no response for the past three hours before then, she finally plopped down by the gate as security wouldn’t let her in without clearance.

Just then, Antonio’s car rolled up.

Inside, Marcel spotted her car and glanced at Antonio in the rearview mirror. The man’s head was tilted back against the headrest, eyes closed.

“Sir, Miss Marissa is here”

Antonio cracked one eye open, looked out the window, and flatly said, “Stop the car.”

The vehicle halted beside hers. Marissa stormed out, fuming, and marched to the car, assuming he’d be in the backseat. She rapped sharply on the window as it rolled down.

“At long last! I almost thought you were ignoring me. I’ve been out here forever! I called and called...no answer!”

“And what are you doing here?” he asked, deadpan, as he fumbled for his phone. Scrolling through his missed calls, he saw that she had called him almost twenty times in the last three hours and he didn't get it because he had set the phone on Do Not Disturb during the busy day.

“Do I need to remind you that we—uh, got married? And that we have a certain meddlesome grandfather breathing down our necks? He called to ask if I liked your place. I’m not one to lie, so I came to check it out. Here we are.”

“And what are we doing now, if not lying?” Antonio says looking straight at her.

“Half-truth, maybe. We are married… technically. But marriage rules? Not really applying to us. Besides, how long would I even have had to lie, given you’re hardly ever home? It’s the weekend, and you’ve been out all day. That aside, why is your phone on DND?”

With a sigh she glanced at Marcel in the driver’s seat. “Hello, Marcel. Pretty sure you’ve got my number. Call me so that next time I can make an appointment if I want to get in touch with your boss.”

Marissa followed them into the estate, her car tucked away. The place was low-key yet undeniably grand.

In front of the house, she hopped out, popped open the boot, and dragged her suitcase inside. “Goodbye, Marcel,” she called, giving him a small wave before stepping into the house.

Not bad, she muttered under her breath, scanning the interior. “So… which room am I getting? Because I am exhausted.”

Without turning to look at her, Antonio replied simply, “First door on the first floor.” That was it. End of discussion for the night.

The next morning—a Sunday—Antonio came downstairs after his gym session, grabbing a drink. He paused as he saw Marissa bustling in the kitchen.

“Good morning! I’m making breakfast, almost done,” she called out cheerfully.

He gulped down his water, eyes on her. “There’s no need,” he said.

“What? But I made a lot—for both of us,” she protested.

“I didn’t ask you to,” he shot back.

Marissa took a deep breath, her gaze sweeping the messy dishes around her. “Look… I wanted us to start fresh. Have an understanding. Be on good terms. At least maintain a peaceful co-existence but I guess you don't want that.”

The faint tinkle of burning caught her attention. She turned off the stove, yanked off her apron, and walked out of the kitchen, passing him without a word. Antonio stood rooted, watching her go, thoughts swirling.

After going upstairs, Marissa took a quick bath, came back down to the kitchen, packed up the food, and left. At the gate, she handed the packages to the security guards. “Enjoy,” she said before zooming off.

By the end of the day, she returned to the Obsidian Estate. Through the living room, she saw Antonio buried in documents. Their eyes met briefly—no words, no acknowledgment. Without a pause, she slipped past him and headed straight to her room.

It was another week, and as usual, Antonio had arrived at the company early and was buried in documents when his PA, Marcel, walked in.

“Sir, Mr. Joel is here to see you,” he announced.

Antonio paused, raising an eyebrow. What could his father-in-law possibly want at this hour? Still, he gave the order: “Let him in.”

Mr. Joel entered the office, shifting slightly as he took in the cold, efficient space. Antonio nodded politely and gestured toward a chair. “Is there an issue?”

Antonio’s mind raced, expecting the worst—either Marissa had spilled something, or Mr. Joel was here asking for a favor for the company.

He straightened slightly. “What about her?” he asked, waiting for a complaint or something to prove that they were up to no good.

Mr. Joel’s expression softened, and a small sigh escaped him. “Actually, Antonio… I’m happy that you and my daughter ended up together. But I do have a request.”

Antonio’s jaw tightened. He already guessed it had to do with Marissa.

“Yes,” he said cautiously, “it’s about Marissa.”

Perking his ears slightly, Antonio listened, curious despite himself.

“My daughter has been through some things when she was younger,” Mr. Joel began, “and at first she was unable to eat at all but now, she prefers company at meal times. I would like to ask… at least once in a while, would you have a meal with her?”

Antonio’s thoughts immediately went back to that morning, when she had been bustling in the kitchen, trying to get him to eat. He had refused.

“I know she could always eat with friends,” Mr. Joel continued, “but you are the one with a lifelong relationship with her. I’d rather you make this commitment.”

Antonio leaned back slightly, exhaling slowly. “I’ll try,” he said.

Mr. Joel’s shoulders relaxed. “Thank you. Her mother and I were worried, but now… we can be at peace, knowing she’s in safe hands.”