Chapter 5 The contract

Trey's POV

"It's absurd. A contract marriage? What's the point?" I burst into laughter, hoping it would irk her, but the woman before me remains unfazed, sporting a determined smile. That kind of I-know-what-I'm-doing expression sobers me up instantly.

"Done laughing?" She leans forward, her excessive makeup now glaringly visible. I refrain from responding, silently regretting suggesting this meeting and yearning for it to conclude swiftly.

Am I seriously contemplating marrying this psycho? Why would she even propose a contract marriage?

As if reading my mind, she interjects, "Last I checked, I had a boyfriend, and I was told to break up with him simply because I've been promised to some man. Last I checked, we can't stand each other. So, tell me, what the hell are you thinking? What's holding you back from agreeing to this? You want us to be stuck in matrimony forever?"

I'm tempted to emphatically say NO, to outright reject the idea. The prospect of spending eternity with this theatrically inclined woman is beyond my imagination.

"No, this won't last long. We'll divorce ASAP. Let's play the part until our parents believe they've successfully orchestrated a lifetime of love and marriage for us. You know, the contract doesn't seem so absurd now. It only sounded ridiculous because it came from her. We don't need a contract; we're adults. We can simply divorce after a few years of marriage. Why is she even suggesting a contract? She tilts her head, frowning, then feigns a gasp, her right hand covering her mouth. 'Are you falling in love with me already?' I respond with a sneer. Fall in love? Ridiculous!

'You want a lifelong marriage?' I slam my fist on the table in anger. This is what she's after – provoking me to comment on her foolish idea. 'Shut up, woman!'

'Shut up, man!' she yells back, startled. 'Who do you think you are, yelling at me like that? Do I look like a girl who'll bend to your wishes just because you want them? Do I seem like someone you can order around? I know you need this marriage more than I do. I could go back home right now and tell them I'm not marrying you, and that's final. I'm doing you a favor, so you better let me know if you agree with the idea or not.'

I'm taken aback by her outburst. I never saw it coming, and it nearly leaves me speechless. But I gather myself. 'Who do you think you are, bringing up rules...'

'You need me.'

'What?!'

'Yes.'

'So you don't need me?' I retort in anger. Last I checked, her father was the one who visited for a partnership, reminding my dad about the betrothal just for the sake of the deal.

We need each other, damn it.

'Nope. I don't. But my parents do. And you need me, not your parents.'

My anger reaches its peak. I'm furious that I have to marry this woman, whether I like it or not. I'm angry at her calmness; she doesn't seem the least bit threatened or intimidated by me."

"I believe a contract would be the most prudent choice. I can't endure living with this maniac for an extended period."

"Why do you find the idea of a contract marriage unappealing?" she demands, her elbow on the table and a smirk playing on her face. Before I can respond, she interjects, "Are you hoping to fall in love with me?"

I retort sharply, raising my tone a bit. "Explain why you believe a contract marriage is the optimal solution."

I question the essence of elevating my tone to its peak when it seemingly has no impact on her. She smiles, leaning backward with crossed legs. "A contract marriage is ideal because no one can prevent us from divorcing as stipulated in the contract. Not even our parents. Their influence will cease. Do you comprehend?"

"Why involve a contract when we can independently make such decisions?"

"Marriage is a legal institution, and a contract holds legal weight as well. It ensures a seamless annulment without the need for signing divorce papers."

"Who informed you of that?"

"Is it necessary?"

I hiss in frustration. "Why proceed with the marriage then?" I find myself asking in a subdued tone. "You clearly possess the authority to oppose it, as you made explicit with a raised shoulder. So, enlighten me. What do you stand to gain beyond the benefits your parents accrue? You don't even convey a sense of genuine desire to assist or support them."

"Why do you want to know? You think I trust you enough to tell you?" She scoffs, turning her head away and making me view the sides of her face.

The shape makes it look like those of models. Maybe if she hadn't gotten this ridiculous makeup on her face, I would have admired her a little but the first impression they say lasts forever.

Even if she doesn't wear any stupid makeup next time, I will still view her this way.

A clown.

An unfashionable, unsophisticated woman.

"Just tell me already. It's not like I can use that against you."

"Why do you want to know?"

My internal frustration intensifies, nearly escaping my lips in a curse. Why must she dance around the questions? Can't she just lay it bare for me?

She chuckles briefly, as if finding amusement in my visible confusion. "I want to retaliate against my boyfriend and my so-called best friend."

It's in this moment that I recall her mentioning a boyfriend earlier. So, she does have a boyfriend. The pieces start falling into place. Why this desire for revenge? Did he betray her trust? Yet, who wouldn't stray from a person displaying such erratic behavior?

I find myself questioning the need for further inquiry and opt for silence. She proceeds, her words laced with an odd mixture of dependence and detachment. "I need you, but not in the way you need me. I can exact my revenge without your assistance." Her declaration hangs in the air, and I respond with a silent nod.

Noted.

She wants me to be acutely aware that she's doing me a favor. The question is thrown back at me, blunt and uncompromising. "So, what do you say? Are you in?"

The reference circles back to the notion of a contract. Despite the tumultuous nature of our conversation, she persists in wanting us to proceed with a formal agreement, detailing the precise commencement and conclusion of our peculiar union.

That way, we can go our separate ways without any hassle or trouble from our parents.

They won't be able to force us to be together just like they are doing now for us to get married.

Now that I think of it, it doesn't sound like a bad idea. Why?

Because I can make the rules. This agreement should be shared 50%-50%.

She is bringing the idea and I would be making the rules. She wants her revenge back on her boyfriend and best friend and I can do the same to her for being stubborn with me.

If I make the rules, then I won't have any difficulties dealing with her because these rules will limit her capabilities and silliness.

This way, I will be in control not her. And our limited marriage life will be spent in peace and not in pieces.

Carefully taking note of the expression on her face, I remark. "The answer to that would be yes, only if I will be the one to make the rules guiding the contract."

Her eyes beam with happiness. Without thinking, she concurs. "Great."

She stretches her right hand towards me for a handshake as I would do to a business partner who came for a business meeting.

Glad at the fact that she didn't give my condition much thought, I smirk proudly and stand up to take the exit without taking her hand.