Chapter 3 A Decision to think about

Chapter Three – Flora's POV

"Are you kidding me?" I snapped, my voice trembling with fury as I locked eyes with him across the small table. The café around us faded into the background-the clinking of cutlery, the soft chatter of other patrons-none of it mattered now.

Lucas didn't flinch. His expression was maddeningly calm, as if I were simply overreacting to bad weather instead of his absurd proposition. "Will you calm down and listen?" he said, folding his hands neatly on the table.

Calm down? I could hardly breathe. I clenched my fists under the table, my nails digging into my palms to keep myself grounded. "You don't even know me. I don't know you. And now you want me to marry you?" My voice cracked with disbelief. "You must be insane."

His jaw tightened for a brief second, almost imperceptibly. Then his expression softened-just a little. "This isn't just some whim, Flora. This is for both our benefits."

I let out a bitter laugh. "For our benefit?" I leaned forward, eyes narrowed. "How is this a benefit to me? Because from where I'm sitting, you're the only one getting what you want."

Lucas leaned back slightly, gaze steady. "My father is threatening to force me into an arranged marriage. A real one, with a woman I've never met and don't intend to meet. I refuse to play along. So, I thought of an alternative-a contract marriage."

The words felt ridiculous even as they hung in the air. A contract marriage. Like this was some kind of business deal, not a life-changing decision.

"You marry me for two years," he continued, "and I'll pay for your grandmother's treatment. Every cent. Until she's well."

I froze. My mind stalled, the breath in my lungs catching. "How do you know about my grandmother?" My voice was low now, almost a whisper. Suddenly I felt exposed, like he had stripped away my armor.

Lucas gave a small shrug, his expression unreadable. "Does it matter who told me?" he said smoothly. "What matters is that we both get what we need. You need the money. I need freedom from my father's expectations. It's a simple exchange."

But nothing about this felt simple.

I shook my head, trying to pull myself out of the fog. "I'm not interested," I said firmly, though there was a tremor in my voice I couldn't hide.

I stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the tiled floor. I didn't care if people were watching. I just needed to get out of there.

"Flora," he said behind me, his tone sharper now, almost cutting. "Have you forgotten? She only has two months left if her treatment isn't stepped up immediately."

I stopped in my tracks. My heart dropped into my stomach.

Two months.

Those words echoed in my head, over and over, louder than the clamor of the café, louder than the fear in my chest. My legs felt heavy as I slowly turned back around to face him.

He wasn't wrong. As much as I hated it, he wasn't lying. I'd heard the same thing from the doctors last week. Without more advanced treatment-treatment we couldn't afford-my grandmother's condition would worsen. Rapidly.

My jaw clenched, and I lowered myself back into the chair, my hands shaking slightly as I stared at the contract now lying neatly in front of me.

"You're asking me to marry you for two years," I said slowly. "No strings attached, nothing more?"

Lucas nodded. "That's right. Two years. No more, no less." He leaned back, voice composed again. "After that, we go our separate ways. Clean break. You'll be free, and so will I."

I stared at the document. The text swam before my eyes, full of legal language I could barely process. But the basics were clear. Marriage. Two years. Confidentiality. No expectations beyond appearances. Full medical coverage for my grandmother, no questions asked.

It felt like I was selling my soul. Like I was signing away my freedom for a chance at saving someone I loved.

But what choice did I really have?

I took a deep breath and reached for the pen, my fingers trembling slightly. As I pressed the tip to the paper, I tried to remind myself: This is a business deal. Nothing more. You're doing this for her.

The moment my signature hit the page, a strange calm settled over me. Like I'd finally jumped off a cliff I'd been standing at the edge of for far too long.

Lucas leaned forward, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Good. No additional years. After the two years, we're done."

I nodded numbly. "Neither do I," I muttered, standing up. The chair scraped again, but this time it felt final, like a door closing behind me. I didn't look back as I walked out of the café, the cool wind slapping my cheeks the moment I stepped outside.

My mind was a chaotic storm of thoughts, emotions crashing into each other without order. What had I just agreed to? Who was this man, really? And what would become of me after those two years?

---

I wandered through the city for hours, unsure of where to go. Everything felt surreal, like I was dreaming, but the ache in my chest told me this was all too real.

I finally made it home after sunset. My apartment was dark and quiet, a stark contrast to the noise in my head. I sat on the couch, still in my coat, and stared at nothing for a long time.

This was my life now.

A knock at the door startled me. I wasn't expecting anyone. My heart jumped. I moved cautiously, peeking through the peephole.

Lucas.

Of course.

I opened the door slowly, arms crossed. "What are you doing here?"

He stood casually in the hallway, a folder in one hand and a phone in the other. "I came to deliver the signed copy of the contract. And to discuss a few things."

"Can't this wait?" I asked, the exhaustion catching up to me all at once.

He tilted his head slightly. "Unfortunately, no. We have to announce the engagement within the week. My father's expecting a public statement."

I blinked at him. "You're serious?"

He handed me the folder. "You signed a deal. It starts now."

I took the folder reluctantly, then stepped aside to let him in. He walked in like he belonged there, and I hated how effortless it seemed.

We sat across from each other at the kitchen table. He laid out a calendar, some papers, and a phone already filled with press contacts and draft announcements.

"This is insane," I muttered, rubbing my temples.

Lucas's voice was calm, measured. "It's just business. Keep remembering that."

But that was the problem.

It wasn't just business.

It was my life.

And I had no idea what I had just gotten myself into.

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