Chapter 10 What Love Costs

That night, Cynthia-Rose did not sleep in the same room as Fredrick.

It wasn't dramatic. No shouting. No slamming of doors.

She simply just walked into the guest room after dinner and locked it quietly.

Her chest felt too full.

Amara's voice kept echoing in her head.

'Men like him don't choose out of emotion. They choose out of timing.'

Timing.

Was she timing?

Was she convenience?

Or was she something real?

She sat on the edge of the unfamiliar bed, staring at her reflection in the mirror across the room.

"Who are you becoming?" she whispered to herself.

Her phone buzzed again.

This time, it wasn't an unknown number.

It was her mother.

She hesitated before answering.

"Hello, Mummy."

"My daughter" her mother's warm but worried voice came through. "Are you okay?"

Cynthia forced strength into her tone. "I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine."

She swallowed. Mothers always knew.

"I saw a woman at your gate on the news" her mother continued carefully. "People are talking."

"Leave them let them talk. They will always talk."

"Yes" her mother agreed softly. "But you must ask yourself, can you carry this kind of life?"

Cynthia closed her eyes.

"Did I make a mistake?" she asked quietly.

There was a long pause.

"Mistake is not always about right or wrong," her mother said gently. "Sometimes it is about readiness."

"Readiness for what?"

"For the weight of what you chose."

After they ended the call, Cynthia felt heavier, not lighter.

A soft knock came at the guest room door.

She didn't answer.

Another knock. Firmer this time.

"Cynthia."

Fredrick's voice.

She stood but didn't open the door.

"What?" she asked through the wood.

"Open the door."

"I need space."

A pause.

"I am not here to argue, please" he said calmly. "Open it."

After a moment of hesitation, she unlocked the door.

He stepped inside, his presence filling the room without effort.

"You moved rooms" he observed.

"Yes."

"Why?"

She crossed her arms. "Because I need to think."

"About Amara?"

"About everything."

He nodded slowly. "Ask me anything."

She looked at him directly. "Did you love her?"

His face remained controlled, but she could see calculation behind his eyes.

"I cared about her" he said carefully.

"That's not the same thing."

"No" he agreed.

She stepped closer. "Then what is love to you?"

He looked at her like she had asked something complicated.

"Love" he said slowly, "is not noise. It is decision."

Her brows pulled together. "Decision?"

"Yes. To stay, protect and build."

"That sounds like business," she said sharply.

His jaw tightened slightly. "Everything in my life requires discipline. Even emotion."

She shook her head. "That's not how I see it."

"How do you see it?" he asked.

"Love is not strategy. It's not timing. It's not calculation."

"And yet" he replied quietly, "you calculated before saying yes to me."

The words hit.

She went still.

"I-"

"You weighed comfort" he continued. "Security. Opportunity. Your family's stability."

"That doesn't mean I don't have feelings" she snapped.

"I did not say you don't."

Silence filled the room again.

She felt tears press behind her eyes but refused to let them fall.

"Am I just part of your expansion plan?" she asked finally.

His expression shifted then, something sharper, almost offended.

"You think I need marriage to expand?" he asked calmly.

She didn't respond.

He stepped closer, reducing the distance between them.

"When I choose something" he said quietly, "it is because I want it."

"Or because it fits?"

"Both" he replied without hesitation.

That honesty hurt more than a lie.

She laughed bitterly. "So I fit."

"You challenge me" he corrected.

"That's not romantic."

"I am not a romantic man."

Her chest tightened again.

"Then what are we?" she asked.

He held her gaze steadily.

"We are two people who entered an agreement."

The word agreement made her stomach drop.

"And somewhere inside that agreement," he continued, voice softer now, "something real is forming."

She searched his face.

"How do you know?" she whispered.

"Because I don't tolerate disorder" he said quietly. "And you disturb my peace."

She blinked.

"That's supposed to comfort me?"

"It is truth."

She looked away, breathing slowly.

"You don't say sweet things" she said.

"No."

"You don't promise forever."

"No."

"You don't even say you love me."

He didn't respond.

The silence stretched too long.

Her heart cracked a little.

"There" she said softly. "That silence."

He stepped even closer now. Close enough that she could feel his breath.

"I do not say words I am not ready to defend" he said quietly.

"And love is war?" she asked.

"Love" he replied, "is responsibility."

A tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it.

He noticed.

Slowly, carefully, he lifted his hand and wiped it away with his thumb.

The touch was gentle, unexpectedly gentle.

"I will not pretend to be a young boy chasing feelings" he said softly. "If I tell you I love you, it will mean I am ready to carry you fully. No escape."

Her breathing became uneven.

"And are you ready?" she asked.

He looked at her for a long moment.

"I am getting there."

It wasn't a fairytale answer.

It wasn't passionate.

But it wasn't empty either.

She leaned back slightly, studying him.

"And if I fall before you get there?" she asked.

His eyes darkened slightly. "Then I will not let you fall alone."

The words settled between them.

Not perfect, not poetic. But solid.

After a moment, she walked past him and back toward the master bedroom.

He didn't stop her.

When she reached the doorway, she paused.

"Fredrick?"

"Yes."

"If this is an agreement... then understand something."

"I am not a contract you can manage. I am a person. And if you hurt me carelessly, I won't stay."

He nodded once.

"That is fair."

She stepped into the room, leaving the door open this time.

Not fully closed, not fully secure. Just slightly open.

And for the first time since the wedding plans began, both of them understood something clearly.

This was not just about wealth.

Not just about power.

Not just about timing.

It was about what love costs when two people who think differently decide to build something fragile in a city that eats weakness.

And neither of them yet knew who would pay the higher price.