CHAPTER VI : Morning Chaos, A Calculated Proposal
1135 Words
Warmth. Soft. Deceptively peaceful.
Maxine stirred, her brows knitting as consciousness returned. For a moment, everything felt… normal. Her body was relaxed, breathing steady, as if nothing had gone wrong.
“…Mmm…” She shifted under the covers, burying her face deeper into the pillow. But the quiet was unsettling. No noise from her parents downstairs. No wedding preparations. No calls. No messages.
A frown crossed her face. Strange…
Her lashes fluttered open. The ceiling above her wasn’t familiar. Her room wasn’t familiar. The air carried a faint, masculine scent.
“…Where am I?” Her voice came out hoarse.
Then—she felt it. A presence beside her. Her body froze. Slowly, she turned her head.
A man lay next to her. Bare back exposed, muscles rising and falling with steady breaths.
Maxine’s eyes widened in horror. “…AAAAAHHHHH!!”
Without thinking, she lashed out—THUD! Her foot connected with the man’s side, sending him rolling off the bed.
“WHAT THE—?!” He hit the floor with a heavy thump, groaning.
Maxine scrambled backward, clutching the blanket like a shield. “Who are you?! What are you doing here?!”
Roman Estillore ran a hand through his hair, irritation flashing across his face. “…Yes. And you just kicked me off my own bed.”
Maxine blinked. “…Your bed?”
Roman’s eye twitched. “…Your bed? You’re in my apartment.”
Fragments of memory returned—the street, the car, his voice, the crying. “…I…” she whispered, uncertainty creeping in.
Suddenly, realization struck. “Wait!” She threw the blanket aside and scrambled out of bed. “What time is it?!”
“…Seven,” he answered cautiously.
“Seven?!” Panic surged. “Why didn’t you wake me up?!”
Roman tilted his head, calm. “…Why would I—?”
“I’m getting married today!” she interrupted, frantic. “I need to go! My dress, the ceremony, everything!”
Roman’s expression shifted—from confusion to disbelief. “…You’re kidding.”
Maxine ignored him, searching for her things. “Where’s my phone? My bag? I need to call—he’s probably waiting—!”
“Maxine.” His voice was sharp. She froze, turning to look at him. “I’m getting married,” she said again, more steadily.
Roman’s low, humorless chuckle filled the room. “…You’re serious.”
“Of course I am,” she snapped.
He tilted his head slightly, observing her, a faint grin playing on his lips. “Go ahead,” he said casually. “Get married.”
“Get married?” She blinked.
“I’m curious,” he continued, tone teasing but precise, calculating. “How are you planning to do that?”
Her brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“How are you going to have a wedding,” he asked slowly, deliberately, “without a groom?”
The words hit like ice-cold water. Maxine froze. “…What?”
“That’s right,” he continued, voice steady. “Your groom ran away. Remember?”
Her head shook. “No.”
Roman stepped closer, slow and deliberate, eyes piercing. “…It wasn’t a dream. He left. He wrote a letter. Said you’d be an obstacle.”
Maxine forced a laugh. “It was just a nightmare. Stress before the wedding. That’s all.”
Roman’s eyes narrowed. “You’re mistaken. That’s your reality.”
Her smile faltered. “…No…” she whispered.
Roman didn’t relent. “I almost ran you over yesterday because you weren’t paying attention. You were walking into traffic… not noticing the danger.”
She shook her head, sobbing softly. “Stop it… stop!”
He softened marginally, but his gaze held her, deliberate. Every pause, every word, guiding her subtly toward an unspoken conclusion.
“…I don’t even like you,” he muttered quietly. “…But you don’t deserve this. Not like this. Not today. Not ever.”
Her knees weakened. The reality pressed down like a tidal wave. He wasn’t comforting; he wasn’t cruel. He was precise, calculated—leading her to a solution she didn’t yet see.
Roman leaned casually against the bedpost, a faint grin touching his lips. “…If you want what you deserve, Maxine… you can still have today. Just not the way you planned.”
Her lips quivered. “…You… you think I should… marry you?”
“Not in the way you think,” he said calmly, eyes sharp, watching her reaction. “But yes… in a way that preserves what you’ve worked for.”
She shook her head, panic rising. “No… no, this is absurd! How can you even suggest such a thing?”
Roman’s grin softened fractionally. “It’s practical. It solves the problem. The promotion requirement—both of us, married. Both qualified. Only if… married.”
Her chest tightened. “…I can’t just replace him,” she whispered, voice breaking.
He stepped closer, tone calm but firm. “It’s not about replacing anyone. Today is supposed to be your wedding day. But he’s gone. You’re devastated. I can help you… at least in the eyes of the company. And maybe… prevent you from being completely broken.”
Maxine looked up slowly, wary. Was this a trick? A test? He didn’t blink, didn’t smile. Every move measured, every word precise, steering her toward agreement.
“…If… if this… is the only way…” she whispered, voice trembling. “…Then…”
Roman’s grin returned, faint but controlled. “…Then we proceed. Just for today. For the promotion. For you.”
Tears spilled freely. She had never imagined agreeing to something so absurd, so impossible. Yet amidst chaos, a spark of clarity flickered. She wouldn’t be completely broken today—not entirely.
“…Fine,” she whispered, “…but this… doesn’t mean anything else…”
Roman nodded. “Understood. Just for today.”
She wiped her tears roughly, trembling, trying to gather herself. Roman watched, calculating, subtle satisfaction behind his calm demeanor—her compliance was exactly what he wanted. Every word, every pause, had been a carefully laid step toward this.
“Then let’s get married, Maxine,” he said softly, almost a whisper, with the faintest edge of authority in his voice.
Her mind spun, body heavy, but one certainty remained: the day was far from over. Life—twisted, chaotic, unpredictable—was about to take an even stranger turn.
Amid despair and shock, a tiny spark of determination flickered. She would survive this. Somehow.
Even if it meant marrying her rival. Even if it meant defying everything she knew about love, loyalty, and life.
For today, survival—and promotion—would come first.
And somewhere, behind Roman’s calm exterior, a silent satisfaction lingered—his plan unfolding perfectly.
- Writer
