The week after the dinner passed in a way Keigh hadn't expected, quietly, steadily, and with a softness he hadn't felt in years.
He and Nara fell into a rhythm.Not dramatic.
Not rushed. Just… natural. Morning messages, late-night conversations.
Small things that mattered more than they should've.
He'd wake up to her:
> "Morning. Don't skip breakfast today."
And he'd send her something back:
> "Only if you promise to eat too."
During meetings, he'd catch himself glancing at his phone, hoping for a message from her. Sometimes she sent a photo, her coffee, her workspace, a pretty sunrise she thought he'd like.
Sometimes she sent nothing but a single line that stayed with him for hours:
> "I still keep thinking about that dinner."
He knew exactly what she meant.
He hadn't stopped thinking about it either.
She had become this quiet presence in his day, steady, warm, and unexpectedly necessary.
And with every message, every small detail she shared, every moment she let him see more of her, he felt the ground beneath him shift.
He was falling, fast and undeniably.
---
The morning he arrived at the estate, he stood alone in the garden, replaying her good-morning voice note.
Soft. Sleepy.
Warm enough to make his chest tighten.
He was still replaying it when his father approached.
"Keigh," his father said, hands clasped behind his back. "I assume you're prepared for tomorrow?"
"Yes."
He kept his tone neutral.
His father nodded approvingly. "Good. The Alaric are coming earlier than expected. Fiona's parents would like to speak with you privately before the event."
Keigh's stomach hardened.
There it was.
The arranged marriage conversation, the one they'd been circling for months. But this time, he wasn't the same man they thought he was.
Not after Nara. Not after realizing what it felt like to genuinely want someone.
Not after imagining a future that was his choice and not theirs.
"I'm not agreeing to anything," Keigh said calmly.
His father paused. "This isn't just about you. This is about the family name."
"It's still my life."
A subtle tension filled the space between them, the kind that years of silence and obedience had created.
His father studied him quietly. "We'll discuss this after the anniversary. For now, keep your focus."
"I will," Keigh said.
But his version of focus was very different from his father's.
---
When his father left, Keigh pulled out his phone again.
A new message from Nara.
> "I'm at the office early today. The flowers for your parents' anniversary are arriving. The white orchids look beautiful."
He smiled without meaning to.
> "Send me a picture."
Seconds later, she did.
Not just the flowers, but her hand holding one of them, a tiny white bloom resting against her skin.
He stared at the photo longer than he should've.
This, this softness, this simplicity, this realness was what he wanted.
Not a transaction, not a marriage arranged to strengthen business ties and definitely not a future chosen for him.
He had already decided that after the anniversary party, he would put an end to the Alaric marriage talks once and for all.
He would face the fallout, he would deal with his father's disappointment and he would handle the backlash.
But he would choose and he had already made that choice.
Just as he typed a reply, his phone buzzed with her second message:
> "Are you okay? You feel… distant today."
He exhaled. She noticed everything.
He typed back:
> "I'm okay. Just dealing with family things. But hearing from you helps."
A few seconds later, her response came:
> "You can talk to me about anything… when you're ready."
He closed his eyes for a moment, letting her words settle over him like warmth he didn't deserve.
One more day, he thought, one more day, and then I free myself from all of this.
For her.
For me.