"The same man you had sex with that you missed our important project meeting for?" Elizabeth Harrison's voice carries clearly through the live feed.
Mohamad leans back slightly in his chair, gaze fixed on the monitor. The nail salon audio recording replayed on his computer screen. One of many locations he had surveillance of the places she frequents.
"Yes, the same one. I love him madly. What part of that don't you get?"
Ace's voice. Mocking. Casual. Unbothered. A faint smile touches the corner of his mouth before he suppresses it. His thumb stills against the armrest.
Madly. She says it easily. Without hesitation. Without calculation.
He closes his eyes.
"I heard you. What I don't get is how does a poly person falls in love?" Elizabeth's irritation is unmistakable.
Mohamad already knows her voice patterns. Analytical. Direct. Confrontational when emotionally invested.
Elizabeth Harrison. Age twenty-six. Doctoral program for Applied Mathematics at CalTech. Currently being recruited by NASA and CERN. Ace's school friend since age twenty. In fact, she's the reason Ace's at Caltech. No romantic history in the last four years. High conflict tolerance. Low emotional filtering.
He memorized the file the first night he requested background checks on everyone close to Ace. He doesn't know why he did that. He didn't question it either.
"Like anyone else."
"No. A monogamous person falls in love, commits, moves in together, get marry, and maybe have children. That's not how your friends live their polyamorous life."
"I moved in with him."
Mohamad's eyes open and his gaze lowers slightly. His fingers press once into the leather armrest. She says it plainly. No deflection. No humor. Statement of fact.
"Are you pregnant yet?"
Silence. Mohamad stills. He knows the answer. The pause extends longer than expected. His breathing slows — then stops entirely without his permission.
"You know that I don't ever want to have children. Or get married."
The words land clean.
His jaw tightens. He read that. Years ago. Her publication. Seventeen. Co-authored. Psychological Journal. Attitudes toward marriage. Chosen singlehood. Long-term non-marital bonding structures.
He remembers the exact line: Marriage is not a necessary component of committed attachment.
He dismissed it then as theory. Now — it feels… less abstract. His fingers curl slightly against the armrest.
"I remember. But would you marry him?"
Mohamad's chest stills again.
He doesn't consciously hold his breath. His body simply… refuses to move. Waiting.
"He wouldn't propose."
His eyes narrow slightly. That isn't an answer.
"Hypothetically."
A beat.
"I'm not opposed to marriage. I don't think it's needed for anything other than legal reasons. I'd marry him if legally it benefits him or something like that."
The silence in the room deepens.
Mohamad exhales slowly. Controlled. Quiet. She would marry him. Not for love. Not for permanence.
Utility. Transactional. Consistent with her profile. And yet —his jaw tightens.
"So you would marry him?"
"Only for legal reasons. Only if there's—"
"There's emotional benefits to marriage."
"So is living together. So is sex. The same could be said about love. I know what you're getting at. You think it's not so much that I opposed marriage as that I haven't found the right person. But that's such monogamous thinking."
Mohamad's gaze drifts briefly to the second monitor, where her profile remains open. Publications. Academic history. Psychological frameworks. Behavioral predictions.
Everything aligns. Logical. Structured. Consistent. Still —something sits wrong.
"Right... because somehow it's different."
"Not... look, marriage can be structured poly mono or otherwise."
"Not in my book. There's only one way I know marriage to be."
He hears Ace sigh. Quiet. Defeated. Mohamad leans forward slightly, elbows resting against his knees. He replays the conversation automatically, isolating tone shifts, hesitation intervals, vocal stress.
She would marry him. But she doesn't want marriage. She loves him. But not exclusively. She moved in. But expects it to end.
His gaze remains fixed on the silent feed. He tells himself this changes nothing. It doesn't matter. Marriage is irrelevant. He never planned for it. Never needed it. Still —his fingers tap once against the armrest.
Then stop.
"What about children?"
His eyes shift slightly. Not to the screen — to nothing in particular. The question hangs longer than expected.
"Lizzy!" Ace sounds exasperated.
"What? I'm just asking if you had to have children with one man, if he's the one?"
Mohamad's chest stills. Again. He doesn't consciously hold his breath. His body simply… refuses. He waits.
"I mean... If I have to repopulate humanity or—"
"Would you have children with him? I don't care the reason."
Silence. Short. But not short enough.
"I would. If I have to... it'd... be him."
The words land harder than they should. Mohamad's fingers tighten slightly against the armrest. Not enough to be visible. Just pressure.
"So he's the one."
"What?"
"In my book, if you'd marry him and have his baby, he's the one."
"That's your standard, I get it. But when I said I love him... madly... endlessly. It means... I'd go to hell for him or with him. So that's my standard."
Silence fills the office. Mohamad doesn't move. Madly. Endlessly. He repeats the words once, internally. Testing them. Measuring tone. No hesitation. No humor. No deflection. Not calculated. Genuine.
His gaze remains on the screen long after the audio quiets. Go to hell for him. The phrasing is dramatic. Emotional. Illogical. Consistent with her. Consistent with everything he knows.
His thumb presses lightly into the leather. She doesn't want marriage. She doesn't want children. She doesn't believe in permanence. And yet —she would choose him. If forced. His jaw tightens again. He tells himself it means nothing. Hypothetical. Conditional. Irrelevant.
Still —his breathing resumes slowly, as if his body only now remembers to.
If forced. The words repeat once. His fingers still. There's a way.