"My fiancé knows a lot of lawyers in this city," Sophie said, her tone serious and her brows furrowed in thought.
"So to avoid raising his suspicions, we have to look elsewhere, outside the city. Somewhere he wouldn't have easy access to our connections." Her fingers hovered over the keyboard of her phone as she spoke, scrolling through pages of legal directories with focused intensity.
Ethan, who had grown visibly more relaxed during their meeting, leaned back in his chair and stretched slightly. "Whatever you say, my wife," he said with a lazy smirk, the corners of his lips tugging upward in amusement. "This annulment is your mission, not mine."
Sophie rolled her eyes at the sarcastic emphasis he put on "wife" but chose to ignore it.
"Left to me, I'd say we just let it be and move on with our lives," Ethan added nonchalantly, clearly still enjoying the awkward power he held in the situation.
Sophie didn't dignify his comment with a response. Instead, she focused on the screen before her, determined to move forward regardless of his lack of urgency. A few more clicks and swipes later, her eyes lit up.
"This Mr. Langit seems okay," she said, pointing to the screen. The profile showed a well-reviewed family lawyer located in a neighboring city. "He's experienced with annulment cases, discreet, and his office isn't too far. What do you think?"
Ethan gave a half-hearted shrug.
"You're the one in distress here, Soso. I'm just tagging along."
She scribbled down the lawyer's contact information, his office location, phone number, email, and consultation hours onto a small notepad she kept in her bag, her handwriting neat and deliberate. While Ethan sat idly sipping from his water glass, she organized the plan in her mind like a puzzle being slowly pieced together.
As the afternoon wore on, they discussed logistics, when they could both take time off to see the lawyer, how they'd explain their absence to those who might ask, and what documents they might need to bring. Although Ethan occasionally threw in a teasing remark, Sophie remained focused, occasionally throwing him a sharp glance to silence his jests.
Eventually, their meeting began to wind down. There was a slight pause in conversation, a silence that gave way to something more reflective.
"I really can't remember exactly what happened at the club that night," Sophie said at last, her voice softer now, almost hesitant.
"The last thing I remember was saying goodbye to my sister and walking further into the club. Then... it's all a blur. Do you remember anything?" She looked at Ethan, her eyes searching his face for clarity, or at least some hint of shared recollection.
Ethan furrowed his brow, visibly straining to access the shadowy corridors of that intoxicated night. For a few minutes, he was silent, his gaze unfocused, squinting slightly as though trying to bring a distant memory into sharp relief.
Suddenly, his eyes lit up.
"I got it!" he exclaimed, followed by a loud, carefree laugh.
"Let me explain in detail," he began, chuckling through his words.
"Apparently, I was with Felix the groom and some of the other guys on one side of the hall. We were already tipsy, laughing at stupid jokes, and dancing like idiots.
Then out of nowhere, this girl—who turned out to be you, started dancing toward our side of the hall like she owned the place. You were dancing like crazy... and of course, we joined in."
Sophie's eyes widened as he spoke, her fingers subconsciously tightening around the edge of the table.
"We were all intoxicated," Ethan continued. "Felix saw how much fun we were having. He had some extra marriage certificates, I don't even know why or how but he jokingly handed one to us. Told us to sign it. And in our drunk state, we did."
He gave an exaggerated shrug, eyes glinting with mischief. "And then boom! 'You may now kiss the bride.'"
Sophie gasped, her jaw nearly dropping. "What? Wait! did... Did we kiss?" she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief and a rising sense of horror.
Ethan didn't respond immediately. Instead, he gave her a slow, cheeky grin and replied with a teasing, "Hmm... what do you think?"
Sophie's face flushed crimson, the weight of the situation crashing over her again. "Oh my God," she whispered. Her hands trembled slightly as she continued,
"So what happened after the party? Because if I can remember correctly, I woke up on a hotel bed... naked."
Ethan's eyes widened in surprise before a knowing look crossed his face. "Ohh... you were the girl on my hotel bed? Wow. That means we had a one-night stand."
Sophie was momentarily speechless, her mouth opening and closing without words. A tidal wave of shame surged through her, crashing against her chest. She felt as though the floor beneath her might give way. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, her stomach twisted in knots.
"Thank God this will soon be over," she muttered under her breath, her voice tinged with quiet desperation as she stood up, collecting her belongings.
Their meeting had finally come to an end, and they both exited the bar, each walking silently to their respective vehicles. The late afternoon sun had dipped lower into the horizon, casting long shadows that mirrored the heavy thoughts in Sophie's mind.
Upon reaching home, Sophie was immediately greeted by her mother's inquisitive voice.
"Where have you been, dear?" her mother asked, eyeing her with a mix of concern and curiosity.
"I had to see a client, Mom," Sophie replied, her voice weary. She offered no further explanation and disappeared into her room before any more questions could be asked.
That night, despite the emotional rollercoaster of the day, Sophie experienced a sense of unusual peace. She lay in bed staring at the ceiling, her thoughts drifting back to the scene at the bar.
Her own emotional breakdown, and the unexpected moment Ethan returned, offering his handkerchief with surprising tenderness.
"So he has a soft spot," she whispered to herself, her lips curling into a small, thoughtful smile. "Before we met, he acted so tough... so cold."
The memory lingered in her mind like a warm ember, refusing to be extinguished. It wasn't just the handkerchief. It was the way his eyes softened when he looked at her, the way he sat down again after walking out, the way he said, "Let's figure this out together."
A part of her didn't want to admit it, but there was something undeniably magnetic about Ethan Thompson.
She smiled quietly to herself, her heart fluttering with a mixture of amusement, confusion, and something dangerously close to hope. She smiled like someone on the edge of a feeling they hadn't asked for, but couldn't entirely resist either—like a woman falling into a memory she didn't expect to cherish.
Just then, the loud chime of her phone shattered the silence, dragging her back to reality. The screen lit up with an incoming call from Philip, her fiancé.
Sophie's eyes widened in surprise, her heart skipping a beat. And in that moment, the weight of her secret pressed back down on her chest with renewed force.
"Heyy, my wife-to-be! How are you doing?" Philip's voice rang through the speaker, full of joy and unfiltered excitement. Oblivious to the truth, he was a man glowing in the belief that love had paved a flawless path ahead.
His trust in Sophie was unwavering, his words lined with affection and confidence born from years of knowing her. His tone brimmed with anticipation, and every syllable was soaked in the innocence of a man deeply in love.
"Hi, my love! I'm good, how about you?" Sophie replied, matching his enthusiasm effortlessly. Her voice was warm, cheerful even a carefully orchestrated performance of joy.
She masked her inner turmoil behind that bright tone, determined not to let even the faintest crack in her emotional armor show. Philip must not suspect a thing, not now.
"I'm okay, babe!" he responded enthusiastically. "How do you feel about getting married to me? Your first love, your high school sweetheart?" He chuckled, his joy so genuine it stung her with guilt.
Sophie forced a laugh, pressing her palm to her chest as if it would help suppress the pang in her heart. "I feel a little overwhelmed about the fact that I'll be getting married," she began, skillfully weaving her lie. "But since it's to you...you, my first love, I feel excited, my love! I can't wait!"
Her words danced out sweetly, but inside her mind, storm clouds raged. The contradiction of her reality and the life Philip imagined created a chasm she couldn't dare bridge. Yet, she had to maintain the illusion.
"That's good to hear!" Philip exclaimed. "So I've fixed a date for the wedding. It'll be next year, this same month! Just imagine, babe this time next year, we'll be celebrating our wedding night together." He spoke with a mixture of pride and tenderness, and Sophie could almost see the smile on his face.
He continued, "I figured planning a wedding takes time, so I wanted to give you a whole year to get everything just right. You deserve that."
Sophie's heart fluttered with bittersweet relief. "Ohh, next year! Thank you, my love. That's the perfect time." Her voice was softer now, layered with a touch of sincere gratitude. She meant it.
The extra time granted her a much-needed window to resolve the mess with Ethan, to dissolve the accidental marriage before she said "I do" to Philip.
Their conversation flowed effortlessly from there, shifting from wedding plans to everyday chatter. Philip, still riding the high of their engagement, suggested they hold a small get-together.
Nothing extravagant just him, his friends, and Sophie with hers. A simple gathering to celebrate their upcoming union. Sophie agreed readily, keeping her voice light and sweet.
Eventually, they exchanged their goodnights, whispered a few loving words, and ended the call. Sophie lay back in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering how long she could keep up this façade. But for now, the relief of buying more time lulled her to sleep.
***********
Meanwhile, across the city, Ethan stepped through the door of his family home, his mind still spinning from the intense meeting with Sophie. As the weight of the situation settled over him, he knew it was time to tell his family the truth. He couldn't continue to carry this secret alone.
Seated in the living room were his aunt and uncle, the people who had taken him in after his parents' death, raising him with care and discipline. He cleared his throat as he entered, catching their attention.
"There's something I need to tell you both," he began, his voice steady but grave.
His aunt, a stern woman with a strong moral compass, leaned forward. "What is it, Ethan? You look troubled."
Ethan exhaled slowly. "I... I got married."
There was a pause.
His aunt blinked, her lips parting slightly.
"How could you be this reckless, Ethan?" she burst out, disappointment lacing every syllable. Her voice trembled with frustration.
"Getting drunk and waking up married? What were you thinking?"
"Mama Two, it's very, very complicated," Ethan replied, raising his hands in surrender. He could see the disapproval etched into her face, and it made him feel like a teenager caught red-handed.
His uncle, more composed and thoughtful, rubbed his chin slowly. "Well, it's a good thing you came to tell us. Now, when can we meet her?"
Ethan shook his head, a faint look of defeat crossing his features.
"Papa Two, she doesn't want this marriage. We're filing for an annulment."
The room fell into shocked silence. Then, in perfect unison, they both exclaimed,
"Huh? Why?"
Ethan sighed again, rubbing the back of his neck. "Because... She's already engaged. She told me she's getting married soon. And she doesn't want her family to know about any of this. She just wants it to be over quietly, before her wedding."
His aunt looked stunned. His uncle gave a thoughtful nod, then placed a reassuring hand on Ethan's shoulder.
"Well, whatever decision you make at the end of it all, I'll give you my full support."
Ethan looked up, gratitude softening his features. "Thank you so much, Uncle. Okay, that's all for tonight. Goodnight, guys. Sweet dreams."
He turned and headed toward his room. The hallway felt longer than usual, every step echoing with the surreal truth of his accidental marriage.
Once inside his room, he moved straight to the small wooden shelf near his bed. There, standing proudly among his books and trinkets, was a framed photo of his late parents.
He picked it up gently, brushing a speck of dust from the glass.
"Mum, Dad... I can't believe I'm married," he whispered, a small, disbelieving smile tugging at his lips. He laughed lightly, more at the absurdity of it all than any sense of joy.
He sat on the edge of his bed, still clutching the frame. "It's so hard to believe in commitment, in that thing called forever," he murmured, eyes locked on the smiling faces in the photo. "But look what fate has done."
A long silence followed as he stared at their image, his heart filled with nostalgia, confusion, and something else, a feeling he couldn't quite place.
Finally, he placed the frame back on the table with reverence and crawled under his blanket. As his head hit the pillow, his thoughts drifted not to his parents or the past, but to Sophie.
To her voice, her frustration, her laugh.
And the kiss he might have stolen.
Sleep came slowly, and with it, dreams tangled in memories and what-ifs.