A Change
1397 Words
Chapter Eight
The stylist arrived shortly after lunch.
What Amaya expected to be a simple appointment turned into nearly three hours of hair products, curling irons, clips, brushes and far too many questions about what she wanted.
For most of her life, Amaya had kept her hair straight and brunette.
It was familiar.
Safe.
The stylist, however, had other ideas.
By the time she was finished, Amaya barely recognized herself.
Her hair now fell in soft waves around her shoulders, the brunette darkened with subtle reddish tones that caught the light whenever she moved. Curtain bangs framed her face, giving her an entirely different look.
She stared at herself in the mirror.
"Wow."
The stylist smiled.
"You like it?"
Amaya touched one of the curls carefully.
"I love it."
For the first time in a while, she actually felt pretty.
Not because someone had told her she was.
Because she looked in the mirror and believed it herself.
She thanked the stylist as they were heading downstairs.
The afternoon dragged by.
Amaya curled up on the living room sofa with her phone.
Social media.
Videos.
A game.
Another video.
She checked the time.
4:18 p.m.
She sighed.
Five minutes later...
4:23.
"Seriously?"
She tossed the phone beside her.
Why was time moving so slowly?
Without realizing it, her eyes drifted toward the front entrance.
Nothing.
She looked away.
A few minutes later...
She looked again.
Empty.
Her fingers absentmindedly touched one of her curls.
She had no idea why she suddenly felt nervous.
Maybe...
She wanted to know what he thought.
No.
That was ridiculous.
He probably wouldn't even notice.
"What exactly am I expecting?"
It wasn't like she was waiting for anyone.
...
Right?
The sound of tires crunching over the driveway made several heads turn.
A black sedan rolled through the gates.
Amaya sat up.
"Oh."
She hadn't realized she'd been listening for it.
The front door opened moments later.
Ezekiel stepped inside, removing his suit jacket as one of the staff accepted it.
He looked exactly as he had that morning.
Perfectly composed.
Not a single hair out of place.
His eyes moved across the room.
For half a second, they stopped on her.
Amaya straightened slightly.
Maybe he'd noticed.
She waited.
Nothing.
Not even a comment.
She smiled anyway.
"Welcome home, hubby."
She teased dragging the hubby.
Several maids immediately pretended to be extremely interested in polishing furniture.
Ezekiel looked at her.
"...Good evening."
That was it.
He continued walking.
Amaya stared after him.
Her smile slowly disappeared.
"That's all?"
He stopped.
Looked back.
"You greeted me."
"I did."
"I responded."
"And?"
"And...?"
She threw her hands into the air.
"I was expecting something."
His eyes briefly moved over her hair again.
"You changed your hair."
Her face immediately brightened.
"You noticed?"
"Yes."
She waited.
He said nothing else.
Amaya's smile slowly faded.
"That's it?"
He frowned slightly.
"What else would there be?"
She stared at him.
"Never mind."
"You seem disappointed."
"I'm not."
He gave her one last unreadable look before turning toward the stairs.
Amaya watched him disappear around the corner.
Her jaw dropped.
She turned slowly toward the house helpers.
"Did you all see that?"
No one answered.
Probably because everyone was trying very hard not to laugh.
She marched upstairs.
The bedroom door closed behind her.
She folded her arms and glared dramatically at the mirror.
"You know what?"
Silence.
"The man has the personality of unsalted oatmeal."
Silence.
"I said, 'Welcome home, husband.'"
Silence.
"He gave me a 'Good evening.'"
She pointed an accusing finger at the mirror.
"I spent three hours getting my hair done."
Silence.
"Three hours,and he was he one who made me do it."
She touched one of her curls.
"And all I got was, 'You changed your hair.'"
She scoffed.
"I could have gotten that reaction from a security camera."
The room, quite rudely, refused to take her side.
Amaya sighed and flopped backward onto the bed.
"...I'm going to make him smile one day."
She paused.
"...Even if it will kill me."
---
The next morning, Amaya was halfway through breakfast when Ezekiel walked into the dining room.
He checked his watch.
"We're leaving at nine."
She looked up from her plate.
"Where to?"
"Media training."
Her fork stopped halfway to her mouth.
"Media training?"
"Yes."
"For what?"
He gave her a look.
"For our marriage."
Right.
Their marriage.
The fake one that was about to become very real to everyone else.
She swallowed.
"What exactly am I supposed to do?"
"Answer questions."
"That's it?"
"Don't lie."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Isn't the entire marriage a lie?"
Ezekiel stared at her.
Amaya cleared her throat.
"Bad joke."
"Very."
She sighed.
"Anything else?"
"Don't discuss the contract."
"Obviously."
"Don't discuss Carter."
Her expression changed.
She hadn't expected that.
She hadn't mentioned him before.
"How do you know him?"
"I have my ways."
Of course. Was she really expecting him to explain how he knew Carter?
"Why though?"
"Because the public doesn't need to know about him."
Amaya looked down at her plate.
"Fine."
Ezekiel picked up his coffee.
"And my grandmother will be here this weekend."
Amaya looked up again.
"The grandmother I didn't know existed until yesterday?"
"Yes."
"What is she like?"
He was silent for a moment.
"Persistent."
"That doesn't sound too bad."
"She's observant."
"Okay."
"She doesn't like dishonesty."
Amaya slowly lowered her fork.
"That's... concerning."
"You'll be fine."
"You're saying that like you've already accepted that I won't be."
His mouth twitched.
Barely.
Amaya narrowed her eyes.
"Was that a smile?"
"No."
"It was."
"It wasn't."
She leaned forward.
"I saw it."
"You saw wrong."
"You're impossible."
"You've said so."
He stood and adjusted his cuff.
"We leave in twenty minutes."
He walked away.
Amaya watched him go.
Then smiled to herself.
At least she'd gotten a reaction this time.
Small victory.
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