The night was long enough to make me feel like the time is going on a loop. The body lay still, but my heart was wide awake. When the morning arrives, there is not even a hope to move forward. When I opened my eyes, the notebook was still in my hands. Maybe it was waiting to quench its thirst from my tears. I saw it one more time, his photo then stuffed it carelessly between the pages. The contract was still on my table, waiting to be signed by me.
Rian Ashford, the guy reading beneath a blooming sky back then, the same guy who belonged to a dream. Now, his name sits beside mine on the contract paper. Sometimes the fate is too cruel. I reached for the pen and signed it. I wrote my name on that paper like it was a wound which now bleeds into everything I touch.
I went downstairs tightly clutching that paper. I found my parents in the kitchen. They were carrying out their casual work as if the last night was just a dream. But still the air felt heavy, like we were in the room after a funeral. My mother was trying to make breakfast, but her hands were shaking too much to hold the knife. Since yesterday, I haven't heard any word from her mouth. My father sat with a newspaper in his lap, staring at the words like they were in some other language, and he's dictating the word into the meaningful sentence. Neither of them looked up when I walked in.
I poured myself a glass of water, and my hands weren't trembling anymore. My chair creaked as I pulled it back, but still, no one spoke. I was like that invisible air inside that room. I put the contract on the table. Finally, my father said, barely above a whisper, "You don't have to do it, sweetheart."
My mother's eyes lifted. Red, empty and hopeful to clear her husband's name, but there was a deep sorrow inside it for her daughter. When her eyes met mine, she burst out into tears. Her eyes were begging for the forgiveness, and mine…. I wasn't sure what they were asking for.
I looked at both of them, then down into my hands, "I already did."
"Sweetheart, I'm sorry. I couldn't protect you. I asked you to run away, but how could I let you go alone? Actually, this selfish heart… it wanted your name on that paper." He looked into my eyes; it was love, bruised and about to break. "It wasn't for my name or for our legacy. I just wanted you to have a place, a shelter, safe where the world wouldn't tear you."
My lips trembled. "If yours isn't safe for me, then how can I believe his will be?" I didn't raise my voice, but still they were sharp like the bullet that could easily pierce their heart.
"He promised us he'll keep you safe; he'll protect you." my mom murmured. "No," I whispered. "It's to bury me in his name before anyone else can. Don't worry, Mom; I know how to protect myself."
I asked my father to send the contract and went upstairs after having breakfast.
At noon, a black car rolled up to our gate. A man in a suit stepped out; he neither smiled nor greeted. Just said, "Miss Lioren, Mr. Ashford wants you to have your dinner at his place."
Not an invitation but a declaration. I looked at my mother, who stood frozen near the stairs, worrying about what would happen next. I just climbed in, saying, "I'll be back before twelve, Mom," I said over my shoulder. A thought came across my mind about Cinderella and her midnight ball, her midnight twelve. But this…. this isn't a fairy tale. There would be no dance, no ball, and I wasn't running from anything tonight. I was walking straight into it.
As the city passed in a blur, the road felt too familiar, like a memory unfolding too fast to hold. The fountain near the school, the bakery where I once shared pastries with Maya. She left for Paris to pursue her fashion, but I... I stayed. I used to love sketching Jewellery, but I didn't know why, I stopped holding my sketchbook and pencil. I enrolled in business academy just in case my father's world ever needed me, and I don't have any regrets about that choice.
The billboards that now showed Rian's face, next to the tagline 'Ashford Group, Steady through the storm.
The word steady, it mocked me. Maya once told me, "Rian Ashford doesn't look at girls; he calculates them." At that time, it was funny, but now I wasn't sure if it was a joke.
I wasn't afraid of seeing him; I was afraid of what I'd feel when I did. Because how do you look into the eyes of the man who once was a boy, the same boy who once walked away breaking your heart?
The car turned left at the boulevard towards the Ashford Estate. The car rolled through the high gates into a brand-new world. Ashford Estate was less of a home and more of a kingdom that stood proudly in front of me. Marble, steel, and glass – all too cold and perfect. The air smelt of roses, and this is the only thing I love right now. As I walked inside, the hallway was too quiet, as it had been instructed not to breathe.
The same guy walked a step ahead of me, the marble floor was echoing as I walked through. "This way," the guy said without turning. He was doing his work as if he is a robot, without any emotion. I followed him out into the garden.
The air was too pure, a gentle wind curled through the petals of hundreds, maybe thousands, of roses. All in soft hues; purple, white, pink, red, and orange. A rainbow garden of roses. Nothing too wild but too soft.
It was beautiful and terrifying. It felt like each flower here had been chosen and controlled, like even nature has to obey.
And there he was, standing beneath the rose arch.
Rian Ashford, the way he is among those roses, wrapped in a suit, made my heart skip a beat. He stood there as if he belonged to it, tall and striking, with the sun pouring over him like a blessing.
He didn't speak, he looked at me, and something in his gaze shifted, just for a second. And I stood there numb. He gestured to sit on the table that was in the middle of the garden. I motioned toward him not as a girl in love but as a woman with whom he is bound now, in a piece of paper.
And still somewhere in the back of my mind, a younger version of me stood under that cherry tree, still searching for the answer in his silence.