Autumn is a second spring

149. Contract signing

Fluke exhaled sharply the moment he stepped into the penthouse. The elevator doors closed behind him with a muted click, cutting him off from the outside world. His palms were damp. His throat felt tight. Every step he took toward the living area made the tension in his chest coil tighter, until he felt like he could hear his heartbeat in his ears.

As he reached the edge of the room, he saw Ohm.

Sitting alone on the sofa, shoulders straight, gaze blankly fixed on the floor until the moment he sensed movement. Ohm lifted his eyes to Fluke—no anger, no grief. Just emptiness. A kind of quiet that felt colder than rage ever could.

Fluke swallowed.

Ohm didn't speak at first. He only tilted his head slightly toward the sofa opposite him—a gesture not unkind but devoid of warmth, as if he were instructing a stranger.

Fluke obeyed without a word, sitting down stiffly, hands clasped in his lap to steady the slight tremor.

Ohm's voice was flat when it came. "So? Have you made up your mind?"

Fluke nodded, though his chest felt like it was filling with stones. "Yeah... I have."

"Oh." Ohm's expression didn't change. "Good."

It wasn't approval. It wasn't relief. It wasn't even neutrality. It was just... cold acknowledgment.

He reached for a folder resting on the coffee table and slid it across to Fluke. "Look over it. See if there's anything you want to add."

Fluke's fingers brushed the document, hesitated, then opened it. His heart dropped a little when he saw the title: MARRIAGE CONTRACT

He had expected conditions. He hadn't expected the suffocating clarity of them.

Clause after clause laid out strict boundaries:

Marriage only for the sake of the children.

No interference in each other's personal lives.

Communication limited to child-rearing matters.

No expectations of emotional or marital obligations.

A marriage in name only.

A life lived side by side, but never touching.

Fluke's throat tightened as he flipped the pages. Every clause was a wall. Every statement a reminder of the distance Ohm was forcibly placing between them.

"Anything you want to change?" Ohm asked calmly.

Fluke shook his head. "It's... fine."

Ohm leaned forward slightly. "Is there anything you would want to add?"

Fluke nodded, pointing at the last clause.

If either party becomes romantically involved with someone else, both parties agree to discuss and possibly proceed with a divorce. Custody will go to the biological parent.

Ohm's eyes dropped to the text. "I think it's fair," he said blankly. "Is there a problem?"

"No," Fluke said quickly. "But I... want to add something."

Ohm waited.

Fluke pointed at the clause with a trembling finger. "I want it written that we will love all our children equally. Regardless of biology."

Ohm's gaze sharpened—not angry, but mildly annoyed, like he didn't understand why this was necessary. "That's obvious," he said. "Do you take me for a jerk?"

"No." Fluke shook his head slowly. "I just—You said you don't like 'other people's kids.' And... that might include mine."

The silence that followed was sharp.