THE RUNAWAY CONTRACT BRIDE

Heart burns

A torchlight hit my window like a sudden spotlight in the dark, pulling me out of the quiet storm inside my head. I had been sitting there too long, engine idling, thoughts drifting in circles I could not escape.

Then a knock came, firm and professional.

I rolled the glass down slowly.

A police officer leaned in, his expression more concerned than stern. “Good evening, ma’am. Are you alright?”

The question caught me off guard. I stared at him for a second too long, trying to understand why he asked. “I am fine,” I replied, but even I heard the uncertainty in my voice.

His eyes shifted past me, and I followed his gaze. A faint signboard glowed behind my car. No parking. I let out a small breath of embarrassment.

“Oh. I'm really sorry…I did not notice,” I said quickly.

“It is alright,” he answered, already stepping back. “Just move along, please.”

I nodded, rolled up the window, and drove off.

But I did not go home.

The road felt too long, and a bit quiet, enough for my thoughts to be louder than the engine. Without meaning to, I noticed a hotel ahead, its lights glowing warm against the dark sky like an invitation I should not accept but did anyway.

I turned in.

“DELLE” stood bold above the entrance, its sign flickering slightly like it had secrets of its own. Cars were scattered outside, some flashy and luxurious, the rest looked plain and simple. Inside, the air changed immediately. Cooler. Fragrant. Alive. Bright lights drifted across the room in slow motion, brushing over faces, tables, silence, laughter. Everything felt suspended, like reality had softened its edges.

I walked straight to the bar.

Not because I planned to drink. Not because I wanted company. But because stillness scared me more than noise.

I sat down and placed my bag beside me. “Something mild,” I told the bartender. “Nothing strong.”

He gave a small nod and turned away.

The first sip was careful, almost respectful. The second felt like permission. I told myself I would stop soon, that I was only here to breathe, not to fall apart.

But my mouth betrayed me before my pride could intervene.

“I could not even look at him properly,” I murmured, fingers tightening around the glass. “And he still chose her. Rose.”

The name left my lips like something already broken.

I did not notice him at first.

Then a voice slid into my space.

“Mind if I join you?”

I turned.

He was already there.

Not loud. Not trying. Just present in a way that made everything else feel slightly out of focus. Dark wavy hair, well defined chin, poise and gentle. But it was his eyes that unsettled me most. Hazel, steady, too observant for comfort.

“I saw you talking to yourself,” he said gently, like it was an observation rather than a judgment.

My defense rose immediately. “And I do not remember asking for an audience.”

A faint curve appeared on his lips, not offended. “I am not here to disturb you.”

“That is exactly what you are doing.”

He chuckled softly and signaled the bartender. “Same drink,” he said, then turned back to me like he had never been interrupted.

“You look like you are carrying something heavy,” he added.

“I am not,” I said too fast.

That silence between us stretched, but he did not rush to fill it. He simply stayed, as if waiting for something I had not decided to say yet.

Then he asked, quietly, “Who hurt you like that?”

My grip tightened on the glass. “You do not know me.”

“No, anyways i am Evan,” he said softly. “I overheard what you muttered, and i think you didn't deserve what you got,” That should have made me shut down completely.

Instead, it cracked something open, and before I knew it, words began to spill in pieces I did not organize.

In ways I could not explain without feeling it again. A man I had given too much to. A woman I should never have had to compete with. Both betraying me all at oncen

He did not interrupt… but listened while i kept pouring out my heart.

When I finally stopped, the silence felt heavier than before, but somehow less lonely.

Outside, the sky had changed. Clouds gathered thick and low, swallowing the last traces of evening. The air felt like rain was coming, like everything unfinished was about to be exposed.

“I should go,” I said suddenly, standing up too quickly, and made my move away from him.

He gasped, watching me like he understood I was running from more than just the bar.

******************

The hotel room was supposed to be an escape. A temporary hiding place from thoughts that refused to settle. I booked it without thinking, walked into the elevator, and leaned against the wall as if that could steady me.

The doors slid open on another floor.

And there he was again.

I froze. “You are… still here.”

“You surprised," he said simply, stepping in, “I am staying for the night.”

The elevator hummed as it began to move again, sealing us in a narrow space that suddenly felt too small for my heartbeat.

I shifted away from him, creating distance I did not fully understand.

He did not move closer.

But when the elevator stopped and the doors opened, I stepped out quickly.

I barely made it two steps before his hand caught mine

I turned, breath caught somewhere between protest and confusion.

And before I could speak, he pulled me back into a moment I had not prepared for, one that did not ask permission before rewriting everything I thought the night would be.