Chapter four
1129 Words
“I’m getting down now,” he said. “I’ll handle it.”
He stepped out into the rain, tall and rigid. Security rushed over. Cameras clicking. In the chaos, Madison saw her face in the side mirror of her car and felt scared like something dark and stubborn rose in her chest. She turned the key, the engine humming softly and she drove off. Outside, Jason turned just in time to see her car drive away, the taillights glowing red through the rain. He stood in the rain long after she was gone, confused.
She drove to the gas station, a few miles away from Jason’s apartment. She parked by the air pump and leaned forward until her forehead touched the steering wheel. She did not make a sound at first. Then the tears came, hot and heavy, and would not stop.
Back at the Thompson house, Emily stood at her bedroom window and looked out at the dark garden. She thought about the dinner. She thought about the kitchen door. She thought about the way Jason had looked at the floor when she asked her question. Something in her chest tightened and then went still.
She touched the edge of her window with her fingertips. The glass felt cool. She whispered into the quiet room, “Rules. Privacy. Respect.” She said the words again until they stopped shaking in her mouth.
The next morning, Jason Willow sat in his father’s office, the sound of a ticking clock filling the silence.
Across the desk, Henry Willow flipped through the pages of the proposal itinerary as if his son’s emotions were nothing to him.
“Everything must be flawless,” Henry said. “Press invitations, the announcement—all of it reflects the Willow’s name.”
Jason barely nodded. His mind was elsewhere—still trapped in the car, in Madison’s voice, in the look she gave him before driving away.
Henry didn’t notice, or maybe he did and chose not to care. “You’ll arrive with Emily Thompson. The photographers will get their pictures, and the world will know that we are finally united as one family.”
Jason’s jaw tightened. “And after that?”
“After that,” his father said, leaning back in his chair, “you do what’s expected of you. Smile. Propose. Marry her and seal the deal.”
Jason felt disgusted at his father’s determination and decision.
Later that evening, on a call with Madison and Jason, they looked pale.
“I’m guessing you’re ready for your proposal”? Madison asked.
“Can we ever be ready for these things?” Jason said.
“Don’t do anything reckless,” he said.
Madison’s laugh was sharp. “Reckless? Jason, the reckless one is you—playing groom for a girl you don’t love.”
“Like I said, expect the worst from me,” Madison hangs up. Jason looks at the phone thumb hovering to call back and tries to call back but gives up even before trying.
That evening they both glittered under the chandeliers. Cameras flashed on every corner. Reporters lined the red carpet. The strings played a slow song that sounded expensive. Emily walked in, in a simple silver sequin dress with matching shoes and accessories, silk hair back in minimal makeup. Her eyes were so calm that it didn’t show the storm inside. She could feel the gaze of the room like heat on her skin.
Jason met her. Cameras were flashing. He offered his hand. She took it. Their smiles were perfect for the cameras. They moved.
“Breathe,” he said under his breath.
“I am,” she said. “Are you?”
They approached the nicely decorated rose background — Jason went down on one knee, looking into her eyes.
“Emily Thompson, the woman of my dreams, will you marry me?"
The crowd gasped, then chanted softly, murmuring, “Yes,” “say yes.”
Emily hesitated. Her heart pounded. For a second, she saw something flicker in his eyes—fear, maybe, or regret.
She swallowed hard and whispered, “Yes.”
The room exploded in applause. Cameras flashed, champagne glasses clinked. Right then, Henry Willow raised a glass for the couple, with his voice blooming. The room hushed.
“To family, to future, to Jason and Emily—” The guest clapped and laughed in celebration.
They moved through the crowd, shaking hands, giving fake giggling, and thanking guests. Emily kept her poise. Jason kept his distance. It was only for duty, Emily murmured under her breath.
That night, when the guests had left and the chandeliers dimmed, Emily sat alone in her room, pondering on what had just happened to her— still wearing her engagement ring. The metal felt heavier than gold.
The light on her phone comes on, and she sees a notification pop up that reads
“THE BILLIONAIRE HEIR JASON WILLOW PROPOSES TO EMILY THOMPSON”
Emily jumped in surprise: “Oh no, it’s not even 24 hours yet and the news is everywhere— oh well, I believe this is what I signed up for.”
Emily laid down on her bed stirring at the ceiling.
The next morning, Emily woke up to the city light and adrenaline of New York City . She looked at her reflection. She didn’t see strength. She felt ashamed. She saw someone about to live a lie in front of the world and enjoy living that way.
Her phone buzzed—another message from her father, Mr Thompson.
“You are trending already, the world can’t wait to see the ring,” Emily sighed. The world is more excited than I am. What a life.
That evening, Jason visited the Thompson's home to finalize the wedding schedule. The air between him and Emily was civil, polite, but heavy with unsaid words.
“Do you always do what your father says?” Emily asked as they strolled through the small courtyard.
Jason glanced at her. “Most of the time.”
“And the rest of the time?”
He hesitated. “I try to live with what’s left of me.”
Emily’s lips curved slightly—not quite a smile, not quite pity. “That’s a sad way to survive.”
“It’s the only way that keeps everyone else alive,” he said.
For a moment, they just stood there, the breeze tugging gently at her hair. She didn’t know whether to hate him or feel sorry for him.
“I’m guessing you are ready for the big day? From the looks of things, everything looks great and we are not losing our minds so that’s good.”
Emily scuffed, “Hopefully we won’t lose our minds."
- Writer
