The dinner was served at 6 in the evening, and for once, I felt an undeniable sense of relief. Why? Because I'd been stuck here, sitting at the table with them, since 2 in the afternoon, and I hadn't spoken a word in over four hours. The silence was suffocating, as if my throat had dried up entirely, deprived of any words I could bring myself to say.
But then the wine started flowing, and for the briefest moment, I found a small escape. I wasn't part of their discussions on business and contracts, none of the endless chatter that meant nothing to me. I wasn't expected to contribute. Instead, I allowed myself a quiet moment of peace, focusing on the sunset outside the window. The colors in the sky were like a different world, something soft and beautiful, far removed from the tension building around me. I drank it in, trying to find something to anchor myself in this strange world I had come to inhabit.
Why did Calyx invite me to this dinner, anyway? I couldn't shake that thought from my head. The whole afternoon felt like a strange kind of limbo. They talked—Calyx and his associates—about business. Business I had no interest in, conversations that swirled around me like I was invisible. They barely acknowledged me, except when Uno, Dos, Zero, or occasionally Lucien, Ben, and Kaiser, would make the occasional comment that felt more like an attempt to include me than genuine conversation. And of course, the most silent person at the table? That would be me. And Pryce, but he was as disengaged as I was.
Finally, dinner was served, and the silence continued as we ate. No one spoke. I could feel the tension hanging in the air, thick and oppressive, as if everyone was holding something back. I was used to it, though—used to the weight of unspoken words and looks that were far more telling than anything anyone said. But Calyx… he didn't look at me the same way. He didn't look at me at all, really.
And then Uno spoke, his voice breaking through the silence like an unwanted interruption.
"I really never thought you got married for real."
I nearly choked on my food. I couldn't even hide my reaction. My eyes widened, and I glared at him, trying my best to keep the heat of my anger from spilling over. He wasn't just speaking out of turn—he was trying to provoke me. I could feel it in my bones.
I've known Uno for a while now, and out of all the guys, he's the one who can make my blood boil. I hate his arrogance, his constant need to test my limits. He could make me feel like the smallest person in the room without even trying. And right now, he was doing exactly that. I knew what he was doing—he was trying to make me crack, to get me to reveal the truth about my life, about my marriage. He wanted to trigger something in me.
And I hated him for it.
"I thought it was just for publicity," Kaiser added, his voice cutting through the tension. "I thought you were just playing a prank on our family. To annoy them."
I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, and it was like a physical blow to my chest. His words—his disbelief—struck deeper than I was prepared for. "I never thought it was really true because you promised Jillian you'd marry her." His eyes bored into mine. "But you broke that promise and married her."
The final sting, the insult, hung in the air between us, like a mark branded onto my skin.
Kaiser. He always had a way of making everything feel like a judgment. And now, in front of everyone, he was throwing my past in my face, as if I hadn't been living with the consequences of that broken promise every single day.
I took a deep breath, willing myself not to react. I could feel my eyes beginning to burn, but I refused to let the tears fall. I wasn't going to let Kaiser see me weak.
"Some things changed, Kaiser," Calyx said, his voice low and steady, as if he meant it. But I knew better. I could hear the hollowness in his tone. It wasn't a defense. It was a lie.
"Really?" Kaiser's voice was laced with disbelief, his eyes still locked on mine. "What made you change your mind, then?" He was daring me to explain myself, to justify the decision. But I couldn't. I couldn't find the words to explain what had happened between Calyx and me, to explain the reasons behind this marriage, because even I didn't fully understand it.
I felt their eyes on me. Everyone was waiting.
But I just kept my mouth shut, offering them a smile that I knew didn't reach my eyes. I wasn't going to defend myself anymore. Not to them. Not to anyone.
I picked up my fork and continued eating. I drowned out their stares, letting the silence settle between us, as thick as the tension in the room. I wasn't going to fight anymore.
For now, at least, I had won.
After the dinner, we headed home. I was too tired to put up a fight, too drained from the constant pressure of trying to hold it all together. Calyx insisted I go with him. He would have his driver bring my car back home, he said, and for once, I didn't protest. I didn't have the energy for it.
I slid into the car without waiting for him to open the door for me.
"What is wrong with you?" His voice, suddenly sharp, cut through the quiet as he got into the car beside me. He was looking at me, confused, like he couldn't understand the distance that had grown between us.
"What?" I responded, trying to keep my voice even.
He groaned, loosening his tie as if it were a symbolic gesture of frustration. "You've changed. A lot." His tone was rough, like he was tired, like he was reaching out for something, and I was slipping further and further away.
"Why do you care?" I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.
He looked at me like I'd slapped him. His surprise was almost tangible. "Why do I care?" he repeated, as if he couldn't comprehend my indifference.
"You don't need to care," I sighed, trying to shake the feelings of exhaustion that crept in with every word I spoke. "I'm doing this for your sake, Calyx. You should be thankful. I haven't made this marriage feel like hell for you."
I knew those words stung him. I saw the shift in his eyes, the way his expression faltered, and I regretted saying them. But the truth was, I couldn't keep pretending anymore. I was tired of lying to myself. And maybe, just maybe, I was trying to push him away to protect myself.
He went quiet for a long time, his hands gripping the steering wheel, his jaw clenched tight. I could feel the tension rolling off him, and I couldn't bring myself to look at him. If I did, I'd probably kiss him. And that was the last thing I needed right now.
The next morning, I woke up with that familiar feeling of emptiness gnawing at me from the inside out. It was like a hole that I couldn't fill, no matter how much I tried.
I walked into the kitchen, and there he was. Calyx, standing by the stove, preparing breakfast like it was the most normal thing in the world. When he noticed me, he looked up, and then… he smiled.
It was the first real smile he'd given me in weeks. Genuine, soft, and it did something to me. For a moment, everything else faded. It was just his smile and me, standing there frozen in the doorway. It was a smile that made my heart ache, a smile that made me feel both seen and utterly invisible at the same time.
But then the moment passed, and the emptiness crept back in. His smile didn't change that. It never could.
I turned and walked away, but I caught a glimpse of his smile fading, like he'd known I wasn't really there anymore.
I showered quickly, pulling myself together. I needed to get out of the house. School. It was the one place where I didn't have to be reminded of the weight of this marriage. I needed space. I needed to breathe.
Calyx's voice stopped me before I could leave.
"Where are you going?" He was standing in the doorway, his arms crossed, his eyes locking onto mine.
"School," I said, applying some lip tint to try and hide the way my heart was still racing.
I turned to leave, but before I could walk past him, his hand shot out and grabbed my arm.
I froze. My breath hitched. The touch… it sent a jolt through me, one that I couldn't ignore.
"Let go of me," I whispered, my voice trembling. I was fighting the urge to pull him closer, to give in to the desire that still pulsed between us, but I didn't.
"We need to talk," he said, his voice low, serious, but there was something different about it. Something careful, almost tender.
If I were the same person I was three months ago, I would've thrown myself at him, pulled him into a kiss, and let everything else go. But instead, I cleared my throat, slowly removed his hand from my arm, and looked him in the eyes.
"I don't want to talk to you," I said firmly, walking out before he could say anything else.
I ran, trying to outrun the chaos swirling inside me. I was acting like a rebellious child, escaping from my responsibilities, but it was the only way I knew how to handle it right now.
I needed to distance myself. From him. From everything. I needed space to breathe, to think.
But deep down, I wondered if I would ever be able to stay away from him. Would keeping my distance really make me stronger? Or would it destroy me?