From Obligation To Affection | ENGLOT

Cracks Beneath the Surface

As days turned into weeks, Engfa and Charlotte fell into an unexpected rhythm. Their interactions, once tense and formal, had softened, though they still kept their guard up in subtle ways. They were learning each other’s quirks, developing a silent language of shared glances, subtle smiles, and a growing understanding of each other’s worlds. Their meetings ranged from shared dinners to brief encounters at charity events or family gatherings. But as comfortable as they were beginning to feel, both of them knew that there was still a wall between them.

Charlotte’s POV

One afternoon, I was in my office, reviewing paperwork for an upcoming charity project, when my phone rang. It was Engfa.

“Hey,” she began, a touch of hesitation in her voice. “Are you free today?”

Surprised, I put down my pen. “I think so. What’s going on?”

“I wanted to show you something,” she said. “Something…important to me.”

Her tone was casual, but I could sense an underlying vulnerability. This was unusual for Engfa, and it intrigued me.

“Alright,” I replied. “Where should we meet?”

“I’ll pick you up,” she said quickly, as if afraid I might change my mind.

An hour later, Engfa arrived at my office, her expression a mixture of excitement and nervousness. She drove us out of the city, the familiar skyline fading into the background as we entered quieter, more rural areas. The drive was serene, and for once, neither of us felt the need to fill the silence with idle conversation.

Finally, she turned onto a gravel road, and we arrived at a small, rustic house nestled by a serene lake. The setting was beautiful, peaceful—a stark contrast to the life we lived back in the city.

“This was my grandfather’s cabin,” Engfa said quietly as we stepped out of the car. “He used to bring me here as a kid. It’s one of the few places I can actually relax, away from everything.”

I followed her inside, struck by the simplicity of the place. Wooden walls, faded rugs, old photos hanging on the walls—there was a warmth here, a sense of history that felt genuine.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” I said softly, looking around. “I can see why it’s special to you.”

She smiled, a rare, open expression that made her look younger, almost carefree. “I wanted you to know…this side of me. The part that’s just Engfa—not the heiress, not the businesswoman. Just…me.”

Her honesty caught me off guard. I hadn’t realized just how much she’d been holding back, how much of herself she’d kept hidden behind her polished exterior. And in that moment, I felt a strange surge of emotion—an urge to reach out, to bridge the distance that still lay between us.

But instead, I simply smiled. “It’s beautiful here. Thank you for trusting me with it.”

Engfa’s POV

Seeing Charlotte in this place, a part of me felt oddly vulnerable yet at ease. She wasn’t just my arranged fiancée anymore—she was someone I felt connected to in a way I hadn’t anticipated. I’d always held people at arm’s length, afraid of losing control, afraid of exposing the parts of me that didn’t fit the perfect mold my family expected.

But with Charlotte, it was different. She understood what it was like to live under expectations, to balance between personal dreams and family duty. I felt safe, almost…seen.

“Want to take a walk by the lake?” I offered, nodding toward the path that wound along the water’s edge.

“Sure,” she replied, a soft smile on her lips.