The Quiet Contract

Jennie Turmoil

Jennie POV

The moment Lisa left my office, I stared at the breakfast she'd brought, sitting neatly on my desk like it always did. Another perfectly chosen coffee, another pastry that looked like it was pulled straight from a gourmet bakery.

I told myself I didn't care. It was just part of our arrangement. Lisa was supposed to bring me food, sit there for thirty minutes in awkward silence, and then leave. She wasn't supposed to make me feel anything.

But I was lying to myself.

I reached for the coffee, the warmth of the cup instantly comforting in my hand. Lisa always got it right—bold, smooth, and just sweet enough. I took a sip, and my shoulders relaxed. I hated how good it was, how much I looked forward to it, even though I'd never admit that out loud.

Then came the croissant. I picked at it, pulling apart the golden, flaky layers. The first bite was heavenly, buttery and light, just like the others she'd brought before. Every time, I wondered how she knew exactly what I liked. I never told her anything, never gave her any indication I even cared.

Maybe she guesses. Or maybe she asks someone. It doesn't mean anything, I told myself, chewing slowly, trying to focus on anything else. But it did mean something. Lisa was... thoughtful. Too thoughtful. And it annoyed me because I couldn't understand why.

The truth was, I didn't hate her breakfasts. I didn't hate her coffee. I didn't hate her. What I hated was how she made me feel. I hated that after she left, I'd sit there, drinking and eating everything she brought like it was some sort of ritual. Like she'd left a piece of herself behind, and I couldn't help but let it linger.

As I finished the last bite, I leaned back in my chair and stared at the empty plate. Lisa would never know I ate it. She probably thought I ignored everything she brought, that I was as cold as I pretended to be. It was better that way. I didn't want her to see the cracks, didn't want her to think I needed her in any way.

And yet...

I glanced at the clock. She'd only been gone ten minutes, but already, I was wondering what she'd bring next time. Not because I wanted the food, but because... because it was her.

Lisa frustrated me. She confused me. She made me feel things I didn't want to feel. Every time she walked into my office, I told myself I wouldn't let her get to me. And every time she left, I found myself thinking about her anyway.

I sighed, picking up my pen and trying to focus on the stack of papers in front of me. Lisa was just doing her part. That's all this was. A routine. A charade. Nothing more.

But as I sipped the last of the coffee, I couldn't shake the thought that maybe it was more. That maybe... I didn't want her to stop trying.

I set the empty coffee cup back on my desk and stared at it for a moment too long. What was I even doing? This was ridiculous. I was letting Lisa get into my head. Again.

No, I told myself firmly. You don't care about her. You don't care about her stupid breakfasts or her perfect coffee. You're only doing this for the company, Jennie. That's all this is.

I grabbed the stack of papers in front of me, flipping through them as though focusing on work would clear the lingering thoughts in my head. It had to. This was my life, my future, my legacy. I had worked too hard, sacrificed too much, to let some forced marriage arrangement—let Lisa Manoban—make me lose focus.