The Quiet Contract

Routine - Coming back

LISA POV

I sat there on the couch, trying to blend into the furniture, when Jennie finally broke the silence. Her voice was sharp, her tone all business.

"Let me make something clear, Lisa," she began, her pen still moving across the papers on her desk. She didn't even glance at me.

I straightened up instinctively, bracing myself for whatever was coming next.

"I don't want to get close to you," she said bluntly. "This marriage is nothing more than a transaction for me. I agreed to it because I refuse to lose the company I've worked so hard for."

Her words hit like cold water, but I kept my expression neutral, nodding slightly even though she wasn't looking at me.

She finally set her pen down and looked up, her sharp gaze piercing through me. "So, here's how this is going to work. Every other morning, you'll bring breakfast here. People will see you come in, they'll talk, and they'll assume we're having breakfast together. But we're not."

I blinked, caught off guard. "We're not?"

She gave me a look like I'd just asked the most obvious question in the world. "No. You'll bring the food, sit here for thirty minutes, and then leave. That's it."

"And lunch?" I asked hesitantly, though I already suspected the answer.

"The same," she said with a shrug. "You'll show up, we'll pretend to eat together for the sake of appearances, and then you'll go on with your day."

I opened my mouth to protest, to say something—anything—but the words caught in my throat.

"And," she continued, her voice steely, "you're not to say a word of this to our parents. They don't need to know how we're managing this arrangement. Do you understand?"

I nodded slowly, my stomach twisting into knots. "I... yeah. I understand."

Her gaze lingered on me for a moment, as if she were trying to gauge whether I'd actually follow through. "Good. This is how we're going to keep things under control. The less complicated, the better."

I swallowed hard, forcing a small smile. "Right. Makes sense."

Jennie didn't respond. She just picked up her pen again and went back to work, dismissing me without a word.

As I sat there, staring at the untouched coffee and pastries, a wave of frustration and sadness washed over me.

I wanted to say something—anything—but I couldn't. I couldn't find the courage to push back, to argue, to demand a little respect in this bizarre arrangement.

So, like the spineless person I apparently was, I nodded to myself, stood up quietly, and left the room.

This was going to be harder than I thought.

I glanced at the clock on Jennie's desk. Exactly thirty minutes had passed since I arrived. Jennie hadn't so much as acknowledged me after laying down her "rules," and I wasn't sure if that was a blessing or an insult.

I cleared my throat softly, trying not to disturb her focus but still signaling that I was leaving. "Uh... my time's up. I'll, um, get going now."

Jennie didn't look up. She merely hummed in acknowledgment, her pen still moving across the papers in front of her.

I hesitated for a second, my hand hovering over the handle of the coffee cup I'd brought. I'd left it on her desk, untouched, along with the perfectly arranged pastries. "Should I... take these with me, or...?"