Familiar Strangers

Married

They walked in, signed their names, and twenty minutes later they were officially married. Zero romance, maximum efficiency.

As they stepped outside toward their cars, Antonio immediately veered off toward his own vehicle—until Grandpa called out.

“Where are you running off to? You’re forgetting your wife.”

“I have a scheduled meeting I need to attend,” Antonio replied flatly.

Grandpa’s eyes nearly popped out. “A meeting? On your wedding day? Cancel it. Who even does that? That’s straight-up irresponsible.”

From the side, Marissa chimed in, “Yeah, extremely irresponsible,” her tone dripping with mock disappointment.

Grandpa continued, “We’re having lunch together—all of us. So I don’t care how you rearrange your schedule, take your wife and head to your in-laws. Now.”

Marissa blinked. “Take me? As in… me… with him? In the same car?”

Mr. Joel gave her a look. “Why are you shocked? You’re husband and wife now.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” she muttered. “I meant that I came with my own car. I can’t just leave it.”

“It’s safe,” her dad said. “We’ll send someone to pick it up.”

She scanned all four of them, then quickly typed something on her phone.

“Never mind,” she sighed. “Guess I’m riding with my husband.”

She strutted over to Antonio’s car. His PA rushed ahead and opened the door for her.

“Thank you. What’s your name?” she asked.

“Marcel Peters, Miss.”

“Well, nice to meet you, Marcel. Call me Marissa—I’ll call you Marcel.”

He nodded and closed her door before heading to the driver’s seat. With Antonio sitting stiffly beside her, the car pulled out and followed the convoy to the Joels’.

At the house, the maids were bustling around setting lunch while Mrs. Joel gestured for Marissa to come upstairs.

Inside one of the rooms, Mrs. Joel stood there with tears in her eyes. Marissa stood in front of her, posture straight, face unreadable.

After half a minute of silence, Marissa said softly, “I’m sorry… about the other day. And today.”

“No, it’s okay.” Her mother wiped her eyes. “You look gorgeous.”

Marissa smiled. “I always do. And you’re wearing what I got you.”

“Yes,” her mother said, touching the fabric. “And I must admit—you have very good taste. And that dress you altered? It looks better than the original.”

“Yeah… you don’t have bad taste, Mom.”

Mrs. Joel shook her head as fresh tears fell.

“I wish things didn’t have to be like this. I wish you met someone, fell in love, chose your own happily-ever-after… just like your father and I did. But you also have to admit—you don’t make things easy. Not for us. Not for yourself.”

“Mom… don’t cry,” Marissa whispered.

“We’re just hoping that now—this stage of your life—you’ll finally let go of the past. That you’ll build a happy family of your own. Forget him…” Her voice cracked. “Your brother shouldn’t stop you from living, from enjoying life. It’s already hard enough for your father and I. Watching you shut yourself off makes it harder.”

She sighed shakily.

“Sometimes I blame your father for putting the company in your hands. It was supposed to help you move forward, but I think it gave you more room to bury yourself instead. But no matter what… I love you. And I’m tired of watching you live like this. When you have your own children, you’ll understand. I just want what’s best for you.”

“Hey, mummy…” Marissa stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her. “I love you. And I understand. I’ve always understood.”

Her mother held her tightly, whispering into her shoulder, “It’s not your fault. I’ve never blamed you.”

After their emotional heart-to-heart, mother and daughter headed downstairs, shoulders lighter than when they walked in. Lunch came and went with surprising ease. They all sat around afterward, talking and laughing—mostly Grandpa Johnson cracking jokes and Marissa firing back with even sharper ones. The mood was warm, almost… normal.

Meanwhile, Antonio behaved like a part-time human, part-time work robot—constantly stepping out to take calls, make calls, breathe call-shaped air. No one was surprised.

As evening settled in, Grandpa rose to leave. He adjusted his cap, then turned to the newly minted couple.

“You two are staying with me tonight,” he declared. “Antonio, go wherever you want, I don’t care. But make sure you’re home for dinner tonight.”

He said it like a command from God—no room for debate, no space for negotiation.

“That means I’m going with you, Grandpa,” Marissa said, slipping her hand through his arm.

Then she turned to her parents, her voice dipping just a little. “Goodbye, parents… I’ll miss you.”

Mrs. Joel smiled through it. Mr. Joel smiled widely like it was nothing.

And with that, Marissa walked out beside Grandpa Johnson, holding onto him as they headed to his car.

Antonio, of course, was already long gone.

At the Johnson’s, Grandpa took Marissa on the grand tour like she was royalty, pointing out rooms, old portraits, and secret childhood hideouts as they laughed like two old friends reunited.

When it was almost dinner, Grandpa shot Antonio a message: Don’t forget dinner.

A gentle reminder—well… gentle for Grandpa.

While they waited for the groom of the day to grace them with his presence, Grandpa dove straight into Antonio’s childhood stories. Embarrassing ones. Cute ones. Marissa was eating it all up like dessert.

And that was exactly when Antonio walked in—only to find his grandfather and his brand-new wife sitting comfortably, laughing loudly, and very obviously talking about him.