THE INVITATION
867 Words
Daniel called me at six in the morning.
"The bachelor party," he said, without greeting. "It's tonight. I want you there."
I was still half-asleep. Julian's arm was draped across my waist. The room was gray with early light.
"You want me at your bachelor party."
"You're designing the wedding. You should be there."
"I'm a wedding designer, Daniel. Not a party planner."
"You're also my wife."
The words landed like a slap.
I sat up. Julian stirred beside me, then went still.
"I'm your soon-to-be ex-wife," I said. "And I'm not coming to your bachelor party."
"It's at the Peninsula. Eight o'clock. I'll have a car pick you up."
"Daniel—"
"Just come, Maya. Please."
The please caught me off guard. Daniel didn't say please. Daniel demanded, expected, assumed. He didn't ask.
"Fine," I said. "I'll come."
I hung up.
Julian was watching me.
"You're going to his bachelor party," he said.
"It sounds like I am."
"Why?"
"Because he asked. Because I want to see what he's hiding. Because I don't know how to say no to him." I looked at Julian. "Pick one."
Julian sat up. Ran a hand through his hair.
"I don't like this," he said.
"I know."
"He's dangerous, Maya. Not just to you—to everyone around him."
"I know that too."
"Then why are you going?"
I thought about it. About the way Daniel had said please. About the vulnerability I'd heard in his voice. About the man I'd married five years ago, before he'd become a stranger.
"Because I need to see him," I said. "The real him. Not the version I've been fighting."
Julian was quiet for a moment.
Then he said, "I'm coming with you."
"You can't. It's a bachelor party."
"Then I'll wait outside." He took my hand. "I'm not letting you go alone."
---
The Peninsula was everything you'd expect from a Daniel Sterling event.
Champagne. Cigars. Women in dresses that cost more than my first car. Men in suits that cost even more. The penthouse suite was all glass and marble, with a view of the city that made my chest ache.
I was the only woman not dressed for attention.
I wore black. Simple. Professional. The same armor I always wore.
Daniel met me at the door.
"You came," he said.
"You asked."
He looked different tonight. Softer, somehow. The hard edges I was used to seeing had blurred.
"Come with me," he said. "I want to show you something."
He led me away from the party, down a hallway, into a room I hadn't noticed before. It was a study—bookshelves, a desk, a fireplace that wasn't lit. Personal. Private.
"This was my father's office," Daniel said. "Before he got sick."
"Why are you showing me this?"
"Because I want you to understand." He sat on the edge of the desk. "My father built this empire. He sacrificed everything—his marriage, his health, his relationship with me. And now it's falling apart, and I don't know how to stop it."
"You could tell the truth."
"The truth?" Daniel laughed. "The truth would destroy everything."
"Maybe everything needs to be destroyed."
He looked at me. Really looked.
"You sound like you believe that."
"I do."
"Why?"
I thought about my mother. About the hospital room. About the phone calls Daniel hadn't answered.
"Because I've spent five years trapped in a marriage I didn't choose," I said. "And the only way out is to burn it all down."
---
We stood in silence for a moment.
The party continued somewhere beyond the walls—laughter, music, the clink of glasses. But in here, it was just us. Just Daniel and Maya. Just the husband and wife who had never been husband and wife.
"I'm sorry," Daniel said.
I looked at him. "For what?"
"For everything. For the contract. For not answering your calls. For forgetting about you." He ran a hand through his hair. "I was young. I was stupid. I didn't know what I was doing."
"You knew exactly what you were doing. You just didn't care."
Daniel flinched.
"You're right," he said. "I didn't care. I thought you were a transaction. A means to an end. I didn't think about you as a person."
"And now?"
"Now I can't stop thinking about you." He stepped closer. "You're everywhere, Maya. In my head. In my nightmares. In my fiancée's wedding dress."
"That's not love, Daniel. That's guilt."
"Maybe." He reached out, touched my arm. "But it's something."
I pulled away.
"It's not enough," I said. "It was never enough."
---
I left the study. Walked back through the party. Past the champagne and the cigars and the women who looked at me like I didn't belong.
Julian was waiting outside, just like he'd promised.
"How was it?" he asked.
"He apologized."
Julian's eyebrows rose. "Daniel apologized?"
"He said he was sorry. He said he couldn't stop thinking about me."
"What did you say?"
"I said it wasn't enough." I looked at Julian. At his kind eyes and his steady hands. "Because it isn't. It will never be enough."
Julian took my hand.
"Come on," he said. "Let's go home."
- Writer
