Bound by Contract

The sound of clinking wine glasses and fake laughter filled the Ashford mansion like background music Mira had grown to despise. Every family dinner felt the same. The same crystal chandeliers. The same expensive food nobody truly enjoyed. And the same conversation waiting patiently to ruin her appetite- Marriage. Mira Ashford sat at the far end of the long dining table, lazily stirring the pasta on her plate while her mother watched her with narrowed eyes. “You’re thirty, Mira,” her mother said smoothly, dabbing her lips with a napkin. “At your age, I already had you.” Mira sighed internally. Across the table, her aunt chuckled. “You know, Mrs. Holloway’s daughter just got engaged last week. Such a beautiful ceremony too. The groom bought her a beach house in Greece.” “Mm.” Mira lifted her wine glass. “Congratulations to the beach house.” Her younger cousin snorted with laughter before quickly going silent under the sharp stare of Mira’s mother. “Mira,” her father warned quietly. “What?” she asked innocently. “I’m being supportive.” “You’re being difficult,” her mother corrected. “Again.” There it was. The word they always used whenever she refused to mold herself into the version of woman society wanted. Difficult. Too independent. Too opinionated. Too career-focused. Too uninterested in men who introduced themselves with their family's net worth. Mira leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other. “If this dinner is another attempt to auction me off to rich strangers, I’d rather skip dessert and leave now.” Her mother inhaled sharply. “Mira Ashford,” her aunt gasped dramatically. “What? Did I lie?” Her father set down his fork with a quiet clink. “No one is auctioning you off.” “Really?” Mira laughed softly. “Because every man you introduce me to sounds like a business merger.” Silence settled over the table. Her mother’s expression hardened. “You act as though marriage is some kind of punishment.” “For some women, it is.” “Everywhere I look, women are sacrificing their dreams just to become someone’s wife. They shrink themselves so men can feel bigger.” “That’s not what marriage is,” her mother argued. “Maybe not for you. But I’ve seen enough to know it’s not for me.” Her aunt scoffed. “That’s because you haven’t met the right man.” Mira nearly laughed. The right man. As if women were incomplete puzzles waiting for masculine validation. She had dated before. Enough times to know most wealthy men viewed women as decorative accessories with pretty smiles and obedient personalities. Mira was neither obedient nor decorative. And she certainly had no intention of becoming another trophy wife trapped behind diamonds and dinner parties. Her mother folded her hands together. “Adrian Whitmore asked about you again.” Mira froze for half a second before annoyance washed over her. “Absolutely not.” “He comes from a respectable family.” “He also thinks women shouldn’t work after marriage.” “He was raised traditionally.” “He was raised misogynistically.” “Mira!” She stood from her chair before the argument could escalate further. “I can’t do this tonight.” Her mother looked exhausted now rather than angry. “You can’t keep running from this conversation forever.” “I’m not running.” Mira grabbed her clutch purse from the table. “I’m choosing peace.” “You’re choosing loneliness.” For a moment, the room became painfully quiet. Mira looked at her mother carefully. “You really think a woman without a husband is lonely?” Her mother didn’t answer. That was answer enough. Mira forced a small smile. “I have a charity gala to attend. Try not to marry me off while I’m gone.” Without waiting for another response, she walked out. The cold night air hit her skin the second she stepped outside, and for the first time that evening, she could breathe properly. She hated marriages. Not because she hated love. But because she hated what people became in the pursuit of it. The desperation. The pretending. The bargaining. Love had become a transaction dressed in white lace. A contract society romanticized. The irony almost made her laugh.