Everyone at the table is definitely staring at me she thought, mortified. She shut her eyes, biting down lightly on her bottom lip. The unease in her stomach tightened as she peered at the broken glass, suddenly wondering how good a trip into the ground sounded. Her gaze finally moved to the others on the table, the weight of their silence pressing in before she could speak.
Her breathing trembled lightly as she stood up to step away from the shattered pieces. Her gaze moved up again and she mouthed sorry nervously.
Trying to loosen the tension, she spoke with an awkward smile."...Relax, I promise I'm not upgrading to the whole table next." A chuckle escaped her lips.
No one laughed, no one reacted. Of course they wouldn't. Her smile dropped out of embarrassment. "Just bury me now" she murmured under her breath.
The demon sent heel decided to slant at that time and she wobbled a little as she took another small step away from the pieces. "For fuck's sake...not now" she whispered, tucking her hair behind her ear.
"Careful" someone spoke behind her. Luke Houston. She blinked in surprise. That was definitely fast and too close. Concern practically written carefully across his face, like some prince charming with a damsel in distress.
Her eyes dropped briefly to the shattered glass as the servant knelt to clean it. Her attention couldn't stay grounded. It kept pulling back to him, then away again, as if something in the air had shifted and she couldn't find where it came from.
A feeling of uneasiness waved through her again. Quirking her head to the side, she perceived it again. That spicy scent, sharp and familiar in a way that made her chest tighten and her mind blank.
The one that had creeped her for two years yet oddly, she didn't mind.
It felt real, too real. Like someone was standing just behind her shoulder, close enough for the air to change yet there was no one except the servant below her and the man playing prince charming beside her.
A thought, dark and immediate, slid through her mind without permission. What if he just ended all of this? All of them? Her eyes went round the faces in the room quietly. A small smile graced her face.This family, even hers. Wiped out completely.
Was silence too much for?.That was all she had ever wanted, absolute silence. And it wouldn't hurt if he added this fourth man to his list of murdered intendeds.
Just as quickly as it came, the scent was gone. Nothing lingered, no presence nor pressure in the air like she felt before. No proof of anything. Only her standing next to a man who was willing to marry her but didn't know her at all.
The realization settled in slowly, colder than anything else. She had imagined it. There was no him, not his presence, or the impossible certainty she had grown used to feeling in empty spaces, no stalker. Just her mind recreating something it had learned to expect, fear and subconsciously cling to which wasn't healthy.
Her fingers curled loosely at her side. If her own senses could betray her this easily, then nothing around her could be trusted anymore. She could not even trust herself anymore. Because who thinks such thoughts she questioned herself.
Luke was still there, watching her carefully. His expression softened into something almost believable. Almost gentle like he cared. Like she wasn't a piece in a transaction unfolding in front of everyone. She felt anger brew in her. A polished performance wrapped in expensive fabric, inherited confidence and a puppet dressed like a prince.
She moved impulsively before she fully decided to. Grabbing his arm, delicately, as if anchoring herself to her crazy thoughts. She was down for this game, however they all chose to play it.
Her gaze didn't settle on him. It kept searching, scanning faces, corners, little spaces and anything that might explain and feed what she had just felt and then lost.
She leaned closer to Luke, fingers curling into his sleeve just enough to make it look deliberate and intimate. An illusion crafted in real time so it looked real like she meant it.
Because if he had been watching her for two years, if something had been circling her life without ever revealing itself, then maybe it was time to pull it closer. To force it to react like she had done in the other three meetings.
If he was obsessed with her… Then maybe she should go extreme so he snaps. It wouldn't hurt to be involved for the fourth time, purely for her little benefit.
"My hand slipped," she spoke softly, her voice carefully unsteady. Luke steadied her instantly, like it was natural. "It's alright."
She barely heard him because she was still listening for something that was never there.
Around them, the room returned to its rhythm as if nothing had changed. Conversations resumed and glasses lifted. Smiles reset.
Normality, rebuilt in seconds as the mood lifted.
"Looks like they're already falling," her mother said lightly, almost amused.
Sarima shot her a sharp look but said nothing.
Luke's voice followed smoothly, effortless in its control. "Your daughter is exquisite. Any man would fall for her. I suppose I'm the fortunate one."
Her father responded with a quiet hum of approval. Transaction continuing exactly as planned.
Sarima lowered her gaze to her plate, though she no longer saw it. Her appetite had vanished, replaced by something quieter and far more unstable. She had planted a seed of jealousy and it would grow into a hurricane, destroying everything that crossed it's path like it always did.
To her, nothing felt secure anymore, even her own mind. She was tired of being an object of bargain and if it meant to become rebellious so they could see her as a person, she would.
She looked at him again. The Houstons' only son. The center of this arrangement. He's not surviving this. The thought came in cold and she felt something settle in her. It wasn't pity for the family,It simply just existed.
And worse than that...
she didn't know why.
The rich wine slid down her throat and she gulped lightly. What exactly are my parents gaining from this?
Silently, she set her utensils down and leaned back, perfecting her posture out of habit. The kind of version of herself they expected. A doll waiting for direction.
Her gaze lifted once more and met Luke's.
Urgh... She rolled her eyes mentally. The smile, the charm and the calculated ease was basic, and definitely always practiced in a mirror. Still, she smiled back, as that was what was required of her.
Luke stood and walked toward her again. Her eyes narrowed slightly before schooling her features.
"Want to get some air?" His voice spoke calmly.
Perfect escape. She placed her hand in his and allowed him to guide her away, not because she wanted to, but because distance often revealed more than presence ever did. Although she wouldn't end up with him, it was good to know a little about him.
The balcony opened into darkness illuminated by the moonlight overlooking a stretch of forest swallowed by night. The air was cooler there. Quieter and stripped of voices.
Sarima stepped forward and rested her hands on the railing. She inhaled deeply letting the cold air fill her lungs. For a moment, it almost resembled peace.
She turned slightly, glancing at him again. He stood as if the space already belonged to him, as if every outcome of the night had already been decided long before she arrived. His lean figure stretched, looking down the rail. Strawberry blonde hair ruffling from the persistent wind.
"I know your type," he said suddenly, breaking the awkward silence. Her brows lifted slightly and he continued, turning to face her properly. "Girls like you are… bootlickers, always trying to find favor by clinging to a man." His hands slid into his pocket with a smug expression. "You certainly don't have to try so hard. Women usually know how these arrangements work."
"Oh..." She drawled as she mouthed it. She was expecting the facade to break at least if they were married but here he was, the beginning of a crack.
A slow smile formed on her lips as she moved past him, settling onto the couch with deliberate ease. She poured herself a drink from the ice bucket on the table, took a slow sip, and let the silence stretch before it broke into laughter. Soft at first then louder. She saw his expression change immediately and he stepped closer, lowering himself slightly in front of her. "What's funny?"
She stood, gauging his expression while still laughing then turned and walked away. She hadn't walked too far when she felt his hand close around her wrist and pull her back with force.
"Let me go," she said quietly with a glare. His grip tightened and a dirty smirk spread across his face. Her glare sharpened "Let me go." This time, her voice carried no softness at all, just warning.
He leaned in slightly, his expression cooling.
"Feisty...i like. Who knew you had this fun in you, unlike what they say." Her face twisted as she started pulling her hand from his. "You'll get used to this, All of it, once we're married and we both know that's going to happen."
His voice dropped lower "Then we'll see how bold you are when there's no one to interrupt us, with you beneath me."
Disgust surged through her in an instant.
Her hand other hand lifted to strike but footsteps and voices cut through the moment. Luke released her immediately as though nothing had happened.
Sarima forced her expression into place as the adults arrived. Luke took her hand again, this time gentle, composed, and lifted it to press a light kiss against her knuckles.
Her wrist still ached faintly beneath his lips and she smiled. Of course she did.
Because he had given her a reason to not be sorry for him.
The ride home remained silent, thick with unspoken things, the kind that pressed against the walls of the car without ever being said aloud.
Sarima glanced at her parents.
They weren't looking at each other.
And in that quiet distance between them, she understood something without needing it spoken.
Nothing in this arrangement had ever been about love.
And nothing about it was stable enough to survive what was coming again.