Page 93 of The Substitute Fiancée

He doesn’t feel emotionally available to me.

We’re going to have to talk. Really talk. Otherwise, doubts and unspoken things will pile up… and eventually poison our relationship.

I must have dozed off again, because when I wake up, Alexander is reheating takeout for lunch. The smell suddenly reminds me how hungry I am.

“So, what delicious thing did you cook for us?” I tease.

He laughs, and the sound hurts me as much as it warms my heart.

“You’d be surprised by my culinary talents.”

He sets a tray on the coffee table filled with Vietnamese dishes: bún bò, spring rolls, steamed dumplings.

“Were you able to do what you needed this morning?” I ask, biting into a crispy roll.

“Yes. Don’t worry.”

We talk like before, but I sense a certain restraint between us—as if we no longer quite know how to position ourselves with each other.

After lunch, Alexander shuts himself in his office for a video conference, then comes back to sit near me. I try to read, but it takes too much effort. I eventually give up.

That evening, we eat dinner early. Alexander then helps me shower and get into bed. His eyes darken at the sight of my bruises. They cover my body, blooming in unsettling colors.

He washes me gently, with infinite care. There’s nothing sexual in his gestures—only pure tenderness. And I surprise myself by hoping.

Maybe he can learn. Maybe he can change. Maybe there’s still hope for us.

That night, we sleep curled up against each other but that closeness doesn’t erase what has fractured between us—only the hope that we might meet again somewhere, as long as we keep moving toward each other.

*

Emelyne calls me on Saturday while Alexander is working out in the penthouse gym.

“I didn’t dare call you yesterday,” she says. “Alexander told us you were sleeping a lot. I didn’t want to wake you. How are you today?”

“Better. Much better, even if I’m still sleeping a lot.”

“That’s normal. You need to recover.”

“And Alexander? How are things between you?”

“He’s present,” I reply. “Attentive. But I don’t really know what to think.”

I tell her everything—how he dodged Elias’ question, and how he didn’t answer when I called him.

“Your situation isn’t simple,” she says. “But you loved that man for years. I’m not saying you should forgive him right away, but… maybe give him a chance to prove himself? And if he screws up again, I’ll personally kick his ass.

“Thank you for being here.”

“That’s what friends are for.”

*

The Saturday, then the Sunday, pass gently. Alexander is more available, even though he still works a little. We watch television, snack on junk food.

On Sunday afternoon, the intercom buzzes. Alexander gets up and goes to open the door.

The moment it opens, Emelyne rushes toward me and wraps me in such a tight hug that I can barely breathe.