Maverick
Morning, dollface. You alive?
Maverick
I miss you
Maverick
Come home.
The last message makes my throattighten.
I flip my phone face down, pressing my palms tightly against my eyes until stars burst behind my eyelids. My chest aches because Catalina thinks I’m just shaken and nervous about commitment. She doesn’t know the whole truth—that none of this is real. And yet… the way Maverick looks at me, the way he touches me—it feels real enough to destroy me.
“Still ignoring him?” Catalina’s voice cuts through my spiral. She leans against the counter, a glass of matcha in her hand, eyes sharp as she pins me down.
I don’t answer, as I keep tracing the rim of my mug with one finger.
“Amelia,” she says more firmly, setting the glass down with a little clink. “You can’t go silent on your husband.He’s going to worry himself sick. I’ve seen the way he is about you; that man would crawl across glass if you asked him to. And you’re here hiding out?”
My chest tightens. The word husband makes me flinch. “I don’t know what to say to him,” I exclaim.
“Then say that,” she snaps back, fire sparking in her eyes. “Be honest. You don’t punish someone for loving you.”
Her words hurt because she doesn’t know the full story. She’s unaware of the deal we made, how I agreed to go along with it, and how, at some point, it stopped being pretend for him, and maybe for me, too.
I avert my gaze, avoiding Catalina’s eyes.
Catalina says nothing as she walks into the living room.
I look at the ring again; the emerald glimmers softly in the gentle light filtering through the blinds.
My phone buzzes once more, and I pick it up again because it’s eating me alive.
Maverick
You good? Just tell me you’re okay.
Maverick
If I did something, tell me. Please don’t shut me out.
Maverick
Dollface, you’re killing me here.
Maverick
Please.
I slam the phone back down, pressing both hands over my face until my eyes sting. My chest feels like it’s caving in, guilt weighing me down. He doesn’t deserve this. Not after everything he’s done for me— for Georgia, for the ring, for every stupid way he tries to make me laugh when he knows I’m two seconds from breaking.
But the louder truth lies deep in my chest: none of this was supposed to be real.
The marriage. The promises. The look in his eyes when he told me I was the one for him. He’s fully committed, and I can’t let myself be, because if I do, everything will fall apart.
It always does.
