I nod, heart pounding. “There’s something between us,” I say, locking eyes with Grace, “and even if it started out... unexpectedly, we realized we want to honor both our families. That means respecting tradition.”
My father scoffs. “Tradition?” His voice oozes disbelief. “Since when do you care about tradition?”
I tilt my head and flash him a soft, practiced smile. “Since I realized how much you all do. It felt wrong to go against that. And besides, in both our cultures, rushing a marriage isn’t uncommon when two families want to unite. It’s not exactly unheard of.”
Grace crosses her arms. “So you're saying this sudden decision to marry is... a romantic gesture steeped in heritage?”
Nate leans in, bringing my hand to his lips in a slow, lingering kiss. “Exactly. And we’re not rushing it for the press or the drama. It just felt right.”
There’s a pause. A heavy one.
Grace’s eyes narrow, flicking between us. “Forgive me if I don’t fully buy the act.”
I feel Nate’s hand tense under the table, but I speak first.
“Then don’t think of it as an act,” I say, my voice steady even as my pulse races. “It was a shock for both of us and we needed time to realize what was the right decision to take. Think of it as a step toward something real. Maybe we’re not perfect. Maybe it’s not how you pictured. But we’re building something. Together.”
Her expression falters, just for a moment. The smallest crack.
Come on, come on, come on!
My father leans back in his seat, exhaling sharply. “You finally talked some common sense into her, haven’t you?”
“Have I?” Nate flashes me a smile. “It was a common decision. I wanted to know what scared her and somehow I could relate.”
They don’t have to know that we’ve also agreed to a quiet expiration date, that we’re only holding the pose for a while.
They don’t have to know that every second I spend with Nate makes that expiration date feel like a cliff I’m about to fall from.
Because right now, in this moment, we’re playing our roles with perfection.
We have lunch with Dad and my future in-laws.
They are delighted about the news that we’ve accepted getting married.
Of course, they are.
For once, our families are aligned, buzzing like bees in a garden of legacy, titles, and political power. If it were any more strategic, I’d expect someone to slide a contract across the table and ask us to sign in blood.
Still, I smile and nod at all the right times. I pretend not to notice how Grace eyes me like she’s still not sure what we’re up to. Nate's father raises a toast, declaring that tradition will carry on, while my own dad, it seems, doesn’t care anymore.
Finding out that preparations for the wedding had already begun is not a surprise.
This was always the plan.
When Nate called Grace to tell her he bought me a blue diamond engagement ring—one he picked himself, one that caught the light like a star—well... I heard her through the phone. I wasn’t even on the call and I swear the woman’s shriek nearly cracked the wine glasses.
“You did what?! Nathan, you’ve shattered centuries of tradition!”
Nate just turned down the volume.
I think that’s when I started falling. Not from the plan, not from the fantasy. But from the way he stood up—to her, to expectations, to everything—just to give me something that was us.
Grace's outrage didn’t stop her from feeding the press with juicy, well-angled breadcrumbs though. The buzz she stirred up for our wedding? Unbelievable.
It’s everywhere.
From the smallest tabloids to international headlines, every media outlet has us splashed across their pages, each headline more dramatic than the last:
