Headlines
658 Words
The next morning, Aria woke to an unholy number of notifications.
Text from Jen.
Missed call from Elias’s assistant, Priya.
Two dozen i********: tags.
And a link from a blog she hated already: The Manhattan Eye.
Headline:
“Tech King Elias Carter Is Engaged—But Who Is Aria Munroe?”
She clicked it. Regretted it instantly.
They say love moves fast in the city, but this engagement has raised more than a few eyebrows. Sources confirm that Aria Munroe, a British-born designer with almost no social media presence, is set to marry Pulse founder Elias Carter. But where did she come from? And why does the internet think she’s too... ordinary for the billionaire bachelor?
Aria sat up in bed, phone gripped like a weapon.
“Too ordinary?” she said aloud to no one. “Screw off, Manhattan Eye.”
---
The Crisis Call
She stormed into the kitchen, hair a mess, wearing one of Elias’s too-large hoodies she’d definitely not stolen.
Elias looked up from his espresso. “Morning—”
“Did you see this?” she snapped, thrusting the phone at him.
His expression didn’t change much. Which made her angrier.
“I’ve already spoken to Priya,” he said calmly. “It’s just a gossip blog. Noise.”
“They called me ‘ordinary’—Elias. Like I’m a prop.”
“Aria, the entire relationship is a prop.”
She froze.
He winced. “That came out wrong.”
“No, it didn’t,” she said quietly, backing up. “That’s what this is, right? A stage. I’m just the scenery.”
“Aria.”
She shook her head. “I know we said no feelings, no attachment, but I didn’t sign up to be mocked. I don’t want to be some cautionary footnote in a think piece about your image.”
He stood, crossing the room. “You’re not a footnote.”
“Then treat me like I’m more than a headline.”
A long pause.
Then: “Come with me,” he said, voice low.
---
The Rooftop
They took the elevator to the top floor—the private rooftop deck Aria hadn’t known existed. The sun was bright but the air held a bite of wind.
“I come up here when the press gets too loud,” Elias said, his voice quieter now. “It’s the one place no one’s watching.”
Aria walked to the edge, staring out at the skyline. Glass towers shimmered like polished lies.
“I hate feeling small,” she admitted. “Like I don’t belong in your world.”
“You don’t,” he said.
She turned, wounded.
But he stepped closer. “Because it’s our world now. You’re not a guest here. You're half of this illusion—and if it’s going to work, we both have to feel solid. Not performative. Not disposable.”
It was the closest thing to an apology she’d ever heard from him.
Her heartbeat settled a little.
“I still want to design the wedding invitations,” she murmured.
Elias’s lips twitched. “Only if they’re sarcastic.”
“Obviously.”
---
Later That Night
Aria checked her phone again. Jen had texted five times demanding answers and an explanation. She replied simply:
Aria: We’re good. For now.
As she stepped out of the bathroom in her pajamas, Elias was on the couch in sweatpants and a worn MIT hoodie—his startup origin story told in cotton.
He glanced up from his laptop.
“Want to watch something brainless?” he asked. “My algorithm’s been recommending dating shows with too much yelling.”
She smiled. “Perfect.”
She curled beside him with a bowl of popcorn between them.
And for a moment, it felt like something real—a slice of normal, wrapped in warmth.
Halfway through the show, their hands brushed in the popcorn bowl.
Neither of them moved away.
- Writer
