The Quiet Contract

French Mango Toast

Jennie POV

The moment I finally stepped out of the office, my nerves were shot. The day had been an endless blur of half-done tasks and absentminded nods in meetings. I drove back to my penthouse in silence, gripping the wheel a little too tightly, my mind racing with what I needed to do next.

I couldn't stop thinking about Lisa, replaying her expressions from this morning, her tone, her hesitation. I hated how distant she felt, even when she was right in front of me. The memory of her soft smile and the way she'd leaned into my touch burned in my mind. That kiss—I hadn't even planned it. It just happened, like I couldn't stop myself. And maybe that was the problem. I was acting on instinct, on feelings I didn't fully understand but couldn't deny anymore.

When I got home, I tossed my bag on the couch and sank into the cushions. The city lights outside glittered against the darkness, a sharp contrast to the storm brewing inside me. I pulled out my phone and stared at Lisa's contact. Should I text her? Call her? No. She said she needed time, and I wasn't about to push her again. Not after everything I'd already done.

But then, before I could overthink it any further, my phone vibrated. A message.

Lisa: Hope your day wasn't too crazy. Get some rest tonight.

That was it. Just a simple text, but it felt like a lifeline. My heart ached as I read it over and over again. She was so considerate, even after everything I'd put her through. She should hate me, but she didn't. At least, not openly. I wasn't sure if that made me feel better or worse.

I typed out a response, deleted it, then typed another one. After three failed attempts, I finally sent:
Jennie: Thank you. You too.

I hated how formal it sounded, but what else could I say? That I missed her? That I couldn't focus on anything because she was all I thought about? That I wanted nothing more than to see her right now? No. That would only make things worse. Lisa needed space, and I had to respect that.

But respecting it didn't make it any easier. I spent the rest of the night pacing my living room, replaying our past in my head. When did this all get so complicated? When did my feelings for her shift from irritation to longing?

And then it hit me. Maybe they never shifted. Maybe they'd always been there, buried under layers of denial and resentment. Even when I hated her—or thought I did—I couldn't ignore her. Every glance, every smile, every awkward attempt at conversation back then had chipped away at my walls. And now that those walls were gone, I was left exposed, vulnerable, and terrified.

By the time I crawled into bed, exhaustion had taken over, but sleep wouldn't come. I stared at the ceiling, Lisa's face filling my mind. Her smile. Her laugh. Her quiet strength. And that kiss this morning—the way her lips felt against mine, soft yet firm, hesitant yet full of emotion. Even if it's just a peck...

I didn't know what tomorrow would bring, but one thing was certain:  I didn't want the arrangement. I wanted Lisa. And this time, I had to make her see that. Not through contracts or obligations, but through every piece of me that had fallen for her.

As the hours dragged on, the silence in my penthouse became unbearable. I'd cleaned up after dinner, flipped through channels on the TV, and even tried answering a few emails, but my mind kept wandering back to Lisa. Her face, her voice, the way her lips had lingered on mine earlier that day—it was all-consuming.

I sat on the edge of my bed, phone in hand, staring at our last text exchange. Lisa's words felt so warm, yet they carried an unshakable weight. She was always so thoughtful,  even when I knew she had every reason to pull away. I hated that I'd made her feel like she needed to keep her distance.