Chapter 3

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"Shit," you cursed, withdrawing your hand from the coffee pot with a soft hiss. Wincing, you quickly stuck the burnt part of your palm against your mouth, trying to soothe it with your tongue as you walked towards the sink to run it under cold water. It wasn't the first time you'd burned yourself, but it had been quite a while since you had been this distracted. With the way your mind had been running, it was only a matter of time before you hurt yourself.

"Are you okay over there, Y/N?" Your coworker called over to you, and you let out a sigh in response. Were you okay? If you were honest with yourself, you weren't entirely sure. You had just done something incredibly impulsive, to the point that if your mom still talked to you, she might disown you again. Who in their right mind signs up to basically marry a stranger and have a couple of kids?

You clenched your jaw as the answer bitterly popped into your mind. You were the person who signed up for things like this because you needed the stability and the income that came with hero work. This was your chance to make things right, to get her back. You had been trying for a long time, but without decent work, it was impossible. You needed money to start that fight, money for a lawyer, for a decent home, for everything you might need to provide the life she deserved.

It was a bit selfish, you knew that. But arranged marriages had been a thing for a long time, right? Besides, once the Commission paid off your debt, as they promised, you could actually try to have a relationship with the person they had matched you with.

You were genuinely excited to try to find love again. Your ex had fucked with you for so long that you began to think love was just a myth. So, this arrangement felt perfect. Getting married would be nice, having kids with someone who might actually care for them, and this came with the added perk of wiping out your debt. It was honestly the easiest way to accomplish all three things at once, the jackpot of life, so to speak.

Plus, it was entirely possible that this could actually end in love. How could it not? The Commission promised a decent match. You would date for a while before moving in together and getting married. For fuck's sake, at some point you were supposed to have sex with this person. It had to end in love, right?

"Hello, Earth to Y/N!" She said, brushing past you to grab the coffee pot, snapping you out of your thoughts. "Are you still with us?"

"Yes, sorry!" You called out, turning off the water and shaking your hand dry. You hesitated for a second, wondering if it was worth it to reveal everything that was going on. As far as friends went, she was nice, always there to listen, and honestly the closest thing you've had to a best friend since high school. You knew you would have to tell her everything, but for now, it was probably best to be vague about it.

"Just waiting to hear about an opportunity I applied for. It's been a few days since my interview, and they said I was selected, but I haven't heard anything."

"You're quitting?" She asked you with a frown, putting down the coffee pot and turning to look at you. "Why didn't you tell me you applied somewhere else?"

"It's not really a job, per se - hold on," you said, pausing to pull out your phone. Glancing down at the number, you couldn't help the nervous swallow. The Commission was finally reaching out. You looked up at your coworker, and she sighed.

"Just like you to speak it into existence. It's fine. I'll cover the front, so answer and get your new job so you can abandon me here," she said dramatically, covering her chest with her hands with a dramatic flare. You chuckled, mouthing a quick thank you before rushing into the break room. You shut the door, leaned against it, and took a deep breath before hitting the little green answer button and bringing the phone to your ear.

"Hello?" You said shakily, trying to stop your hands from trembling.

"Hi! Is this Mrs. L/N?" The voice asked, causing you to narrow your eyes. You recognized that voice, but you were struggling to remember which person it belonged to.

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