Chapter three: The pretended love
1209 Words
The silence between them was growing louder as they both focused on their meals, sipping their drinks occasionally without making eye contact. The clinking of cutlery against plates, the occasional murmur of conversations from nearby tables, and the soft background music filled the space between them. Elena gently swirled the wine in her glass, her eyes fixed on the pale pink liquid as if it held all the answers to her confusion.
Noah cleared his throat softly, leaning slightly forward. "Um... Elena," he began, his voice deep yet cautious. "Does it really mean you and Derek are done for good?"
Elena blinked, as though pulled out of a daze. She looked at him with calm, collected eyes. “Yes. We’re done. It’s been over two years now.”
Noah raised his brows slightly, genuinely surprised. “Two years?”
She nodded, placing her wine glass back on the table. “I found out a day after my birthday. He was having an affair with his business partner's assistant. It had been going on for a while behind my back.”
“I’m sorry,” Noah said sincerely, his voice holding a tinge of regret.
Elena shrugged, a smile tugging at her lips, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s life. I gave him the benefit of the doubt, ignored the signs, trusted him completely. And then I walked in on him and his business partner’s assistant a moment in his office. I didn’t make a scene. I just left.”
Noah looked down briefly, his fingers tapping lightly on the table. “That must have been hard.”
“It was,” she admitted. “But what hurt more was that he didn’t even bother to explain. Just silence. That was enough closure for me.”
Noah exhaled and leaned back in his chair. “Well… I had no idea you two had ended things that long ago. Derek only got fired a few months back.”
Elena’s brows furrowed. “Fired?”
He nodded. “Yes. I fired him. His performance plummeted. He was distracted, always on his phone, missing deadlines. I run a firm that deals with multi-million dollar lawsuits. I can’t afford careless errors.”
She blinked in disbelief. “I didn’t know he got fired. I thought he left to start something on his own or something.”
“Nope. He didn’t resign. He was dismissed. Too many mistakes, and his attitude… let’s just say it was no longer fit for the workplace.”
Elena absorbed the revelation in silence. She hadn’t expected that, even after all this time. “Wow,” she murmured.
They both went quiet again for a moment. The weight of the conversation lingered in the air.
“I didn’t mean to reopen old wounds,” Noah said, his voice softer.
Elena smiled lightly and shook her head. “No, it’s okay. It’s actually refreshing to talk about it without breaking down.”
He gave her a gentle look, then she leaned forward slightly, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “So what about you? A famous lawyer, a multi-billionaire businessman, powerful, charming, intimidating... How come you haven’t found someone in the whole city?”
Noah chuckled quietly. “You make me sound more interesting than I actually am.”
“Well?” she pressed.
He sighed. “Honestly? I haven’t had the time. After my parents died, I threw myself into work, into building my firm, protecting my sister, managing everything. Love became something I figured would come when it wanted to.”
“I’m sorry about your parents,” she said gently.
“Thank you,” he nodded. “I was in high school when we lost them. Isabelle was just a kid. We watched them die in a robbery gone wrong. Since then, I’ve made sure she never lacks anything. I promised her I’d always be there.”
“She’s lucky to have you.”
He smiled faintly. “She wanted me here, you know. That’s why I’m sitting across from you. Apparently, she spoke to this woman who owns a bookshop down the street—”
Elena blinked. “Wait. A woman who owns a bookshop in Oakville?"
“Yeah. Said the woman mentioned her niece would be going on the blind date tonight. So Isabelle got curious.”
Elena laughed softly. “That’s my Aunt Helen. She’s the reason my mom forced me to come here. Typical.”
Noah raised an amused brow. “Small world.”
“Very,” Elena smirked. “So now, Isabelle thinks she’s a matchmaker?”
“She has her moments,” Noah said with a shrug. “She’s been on my case for months. Saying I need to find someone, settle down. That I work too much and I’m going to die alone.”
Elena snorted, then quickly covered her mouth. “Sorry.”
“No, laugh. It’s fine,” he said, chuckling with her. “But seriously, she just wants to see me happy. I respect that.”
“I get it,” Elena nodded. “My mom's the same. She still calls me Grace when she wants to make me feel like I’m ten again. I hate that name. It makes me feel like a child.”
“Grace?” he echoed.
“Yeah, Elena Grace Carter. But only my mom uses that middle name.”
“Noted,” he smirked. “I’ll stick with Elena then.”
“Appreciated.”
Their conversation flowed more freely now, no longer stiff or awkward. They talked about their work, shared bits about their daily routines, and even complained lightly about the pressure of family expectations.
“You know,” Elena said, leaning in slightly, “this isn’t as painful as I thought it would be.”
“Same,” Noah admitted. “I actually thought I’d spend the evening making up excuses and staring at my phone.”
Elena laughed. “I thought I’d fake an emergency call and leave halfway.”
They both laughed now, genuinely amused by how much they had relaxed.
“So…” Elena said slowly, tilting her head. “How do we handle this now?”
Noah looked at her, understanding exactly what she meant. “Well, if we both walk away from this, we’ll just be forced into another round of matchmaking. And I honestly don’t want to go through this again.”
“Me neither.”
He pulled his phone out and offered it across the table. “How about we exchange contacts?”
Elena took his phone, input her number, and handed it back. He did the same with hers.
“We can pretend to be into each other,” she said.
“Just to get them off our backs,” he added.
“Exactly.”
Noah smirked. “Then it’s a deal.”
They clinked their glasses together.
“To freedom from matchmaking,” Elena toasted.
“To faking chemistry,” Noah said with a grin.
But as their eyes lingered for a second too long over the rims of their glasses, something unspoken passed between them. Neither of them acknowledged it—but it was there.
And just maybe, pretending wouldn’t be so difficult after all.
- Writer
