Inner peace
1333 Words
Chapter Ten
The morning is calm.
Amaya is nervous while Elena helps her get ready.
Instead of something flashy, Elena chooses a simple but elegant dress.
Amaya asks,
"Is your boss's grandmother always this intimidating?"
Elena smiles.
"Only if she doesn't like you."
Amaya groans dramatically.
During the drive,
Amaya keeps looking out the window.
She tries making conversation.
"Do I call her Mrs. Moretti?"
"No."
"Grandmother?"
"If she asks."
"...You're not helping."
"I wasn't trying to."
Silence.
Five minutes later...
"What does she like?"
"Honesty."
"What doesn't she like?"
"Dishonesty."
"...That's somehow even less helpful."
Ezekiel simply continues driving.
Unlike Ezekiel's mansion, this one feels lived in.
It didn't feel like a billionaire's mansion.
It felt like someone's home.
Family portraits.
Wooden floors.
Grandfather clock.
Old books.
Amaya immediately notices it feels more like a home.
Before they even ring the bell,
The door opens.
Isabella walks out herself.
She ignores Ezekiel completely.
Straight to Amaya.
She hugs her.
"I have been expecting you."
Amaya awkwardly laughs.
"Good day ma'am."
Isabella turns to Ezekiel.
"You finally decided to come home."
Isabella stepped aside.
Come in before the food gets cold."
Amaya smiled.
"Thank you."
The moment she stepped inside, the scent of freshly baked garlic bread filled the air.
Someone was cooking.
Actually cooking.
Not catering.
Cooking.
The warmth wrapped around her almost immediately.
Her eyes wandered across the entrance hall.
Family photographs covered one wall.
Birthdays.
Christmas dinners.
A younger Isabella laughing beside an elderly man.
The young man in the photograph barely resembled the one standing beside her.
He was smiling.
Really smiling.
Looking at him, she wondered what had happened to him.
"...Wow."
Isabella noticed where she was looking.
"Family is meant to be showed off."
Her voice softened.
"So we remember who we belong to."
Amaya found herself smiling.
"I like that."
Behind them, Ezekiel quietly closed the door.
Isabella finally acknowledged him.
"Stop standing there like a statue."
Amaya pressed her lips together.
Ezekiel looked entirely unbothered.
"I'm tired."
"Well you rarely come home."
Amaya looked between them.
This was the first time she saw this side of Ezekiel.
He seemed so relaxed.
Isabella waved a hand dismissively.
"Shoes off."
Amaya blinked.
"Shoes?"
"Yes."
"I just had the floors polished."
Amaya immediately slipped hers off.
Ezekiel didn't move.
Isabella looked at him.
"Take it off."
"They're expensive."
"So is my flooring."
The room grew quiet.
Then...
Without another word...
The CEO of Moretti Holdings bent down and removed his shoes.
Amaya stared.
She had officially witnessed the impossible.
Isabella caught her expression.
"He forgets who raised him sometimes."
"I don't."
"You do."
"You just argued with an eighty-year-old woman."
"I stated a fact."
"Yeah, yeah."
Isabella stated sarcastically.
Amaya bit the inside of her cheek.
This was...
Unexpectedly warming.
---
The dining room overlooked a sprawling garden bursting with roses and lavender.
Unlike the mansion's formal dining room, this table already looked lived in.
A knitted table runner.
Freshly picked flowers.
A bowl of fruit someone had clearly been stealing from.
It felt...
Real.
As they sat down, a woman in her sixties emerged from the kitchen carrying another dish.
"Perfect timing."
She smiled warmly.
"Oh!"
Amaya eyes landed on her.
"So this must be the Zeke's wife."
Before Amaya could answer, Isabella spoke proudly.
"Isn't she lovely?"
The woman laughed.
"I'm Margaret."
"I've been cooking for this family longer than Ezekiel has been alive."
Amaya smiled brightly.
"It's nice to meet you."
Margaret placed another basket of bread on the table.
"If this boy stresses you about eating, you tell me."
"I eat."
Ezekiel answered immediately.
Margaret snorted.
"Coffee isn't food."
Amaya couldn't stop herself.
"I've been telling him."
For the first time all evening...
Margaret and Isabella exchanged the exact same look.
"Oh."
Isabella smiled.
"She might be the one."
---
Dinner began peacefully.
Mostly.
Isabella buttered a slice of bread.
"So..."
She looked directly at Amaya.
"Tell me."
"How did my impossible grandson convince you to marry him?"
Amaya nearly inhaled water.
Across the table, Ezekiel calmly reached for his glass.
"He asked."
Isabella looked at him.
"I wasn't speaking to you."
Amaya tried very hard to think of the media training.
Don't lie.
Don't discuss the contract.
She smiled.
"It wasn't exactly... traditional."
Isabella nodded.
"I gathered that."
"But I saw something in him."
Ezekiel looked up.
Amaya continued.
"He's..."
She searched for a safe word.
"...Dependable."
Isabella studied her carefully.
"And?"
Amaya smiled.
"He keeps his promises."
Across the table...
Ezekiel didn't react.
Not outwardly.
But his fingers paused around his wine glass for the briefest second.
It was so small...
Only Isabella noticed.
She hid her smile behind another sip of tea.
Interesting.
---
Halfway through dinner...
Isabella suddenly asked,
"Amaya."
"Yes?"
"Hope he doesn't stress you."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Amaya slowly turned toward Ezekiel.
He continued cutting his food as though nothing had happened.
"Always."
She spread her arms apart.
"This much."
Margaret laughed so hard she almost dropped the serving spoon.
Isabella sighed dramatically.
"Poor girl."
Silence.
Amaya briefly glanced at Ezekiel .
"You know....."
Isabella started.
"When he was eight, he frowned at a clown."
Amaya blinked.
"A clown?"
"The clown felt foolish."
Amaya burst into laughter.
Ezekiel merely reached for his glass.
"The story improves every year."
"Unlike your personality."
Amaya couldn't help but smile at the peaceful atmosphere this family gave and the way her "husband" looked so much happier here.
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