The next
morning, Stine woke up believing the previous day had been a nightmare.
Then she saw
the marriage certificate on her bedside table.
She was
married.
To Charles Foster.
The man she
had met less than twenty-four hours ago.
“There's
still time to annul it,” she whispered.
“You can.”
She nearly
jumped.
Charles stood
at the doorway.
He was
already dressed for work.
“Do you
always enter people's rooms without knocking?”
“It's my
house.”
Stine folded
her arms.
“Unfortunately,
it's my house now too.”
For the first time, Charles looked amused.
Charles
placed a document in front of her.
“Our marriage
will last one year.”
Stine read
the agreement.
Separate
bedrooms.
No
interference in each other's careers.
No questions
about private matters.
No
expectations of love.
“One year,”
she repeated.
“Yes.”
“And after
that?”
“We divorce.”
Stine nodded.
“Perfect.”
She signed.
Charles
watched her carefully.
He had
expected hesitation.
Instead, she
had signed without even blinking.
“You're not
afraid of me?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Stine looked
directly into his eyes.
“Because the
man I trusted for seven years hurt me more than a stranger ever could.”
Charles
didn't know what to say.
That sentence
stayed with him all day.
Their
marriage began as an arrangement.
But living
together quickly became complicated.
Charles
discovered that Stine sang while cooking.
Stine learned
that he secretly fed stray cats outside the office.
Charles learned that she cried whenever she watched emotional movies but pretended she had allergies afterward.
They argued
constantly.
They laughed
occasionally.
And without
realizing it, they began waiting for each other.
One evening, Stine
fell asleep on the sofa while waiting for him to return from work.
A blanket was
beside her.
She hadn't
covered herself.
He sighed and
gently placed it over her.
Stine
stirred.
“Charles?”
“Go to bed.”
“You came
home.”
“Yes.”
“You're
safe.”
He paused.
“Of course
I'm safe.”
Stine smiled
sleepily.
“Good.”
She fell
asleep again.
Charles stood
there for a long moment.
For the first
time in years, coming home didn't feel like coming back to an empty house.
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