"What?" I whirled off the chair, giving the manager the most disbelieving look I could muster. I turned to Klint. "Say something, Klint. He can't actually be serious."
Klint just sits there, motionless, fist clenched on the desk. He looks pissed too. Suddenly, I feel bad.
"This is the only route we can pursue for now," Manager Klint says calmly, as if he were talking about the weather. "It has to be done as soon as possible."
I bite my fingers, feeling the pain set in. This is all real. "Look, I'm sorry I made such stupid remarks, but me and Klint getting engaged is surely not going to solve this."
I barely finish when Manager John slaps his palms against the desk. I flinch. "You don't have any right to refuse this, Lavina. This is all your fault."
"But…" I start to argue, about to tell him what he said about the video diffusing the other lady's claims. But when I meet his strict glare, I nudge Klint for help. "Say something."
He hums. "I agree with John."."
"Thank you. At least one of you is reasonable," he says, leaving me to give Klint a protesting look.
Klint stands. "Please, can you give Lavina and me a moment?"
Manager John shuts the door moments later.
I force myself to stay silent instead of ranting. Of everything Manager John could think of, getting engaged is the only option he comes up with. I claimed Klint as my boyfriend because I was pissed—not because I actually wanted to date him.
He breaks the silence with a cough, wordlessly dropping into the seat. I follow suit. We sit in the same uncomfortable quiet. Klint is calculating—I guess it has something to do with car racing. Calculation, never reckless.
I decided to say the words I had been avoiding all day. "I'm sorry."
His jaw hardens. I really did piss him off. A single vein twitches along his temple. I'm choked, suffocating, as he refuses to speak—and then, just like that, he glances at me. "Jake or I? Who do you think would make a better husband?"
I'm taken aback. I open my mouth to tell him how inappropriate that is—but I swallow the words. With Jake, I do everything myself, both his tasks and mine. I plead for his attention and get a fraction of it whenever I complete an errand that makes his father happy. Klint is from a different world entirely. Maybe that's why I couldn't say no when he asked us to be friends.
His passion is so different from mine. I was just someone behind the bars, waving a flag, screaming my lungs out for him to win. I had nothing to offer, and didn't need to perfect myself for him. He didn't need me.
"C'mon." Klint slaps my thigh. "I'm just playing with you. No need to scrunch up your nose like that."
I laugh, though it sounds weird. Klint or Jake… who would make the better husband? I don't want to search for that answer.
"Really, Klint? How could you agree to something like this?" I ask.
He sighs. "I don't want John making my life a living hell with all his bickering. It's better we stick to his plans."
I pick up the drafted contract from the desk, scanning it again. The terms, the conditions… "This makes no sense, Klint. Do we even have to live together during this period?" I stare in horror.
He just shrugs, clearly taking this far better than I expected.
"I'm going home, Klint. I can't fake an engagement—it's a big deal for me. I can't go that far."
I don't wait for his reply and just leave. Manager John is by the entrance and immediately ends the phone call when he sees me.
"Have you signed it?" he asks, as if it's completely normal.
I shake my head. "No. I still love Jake so much, and doing this will ruin my chances with him."
"You should have thought of that before making that statement," he fires back.
I ignore him and return home. They can't just force me to become Klint's fake fiancée to protect his reputation, only to discard me like trash afterward.
These are the moments when you really need someone to talk to—but I have no friends..
My phone starts ringing. Immediately, I notice the name, and my mood drops. I ignored it at first, but as always, he didn't stop calling. Uncle Joe—my late mom's brother—always calls at the end of the month demanding money, as if I'm employed.
He claims my high school fees came from his earnings and warns me to pay it back with interest. I crawl into bed, exhausted. I try not to think about Jake dumping me, the mess with Klint, or my uncle. I just need to rest.
I barely shut my eyes when a loud bang hits my door. I hate the disturbance—I never have visitors since moving here, apart from Jake. My heart skips.
Could it be him?
I jump off the bed and quickly arrange my hair. It's stupid. He dumped me, yet some stupid part of my brain wants to believe he loved me and is just too proud to admit it. Or maybe I'm just not strong enough to let eight years burn to ashes.
Satisfied with my appearance, I smooth down my clothes when another knock follows. I hurry to the door and open it.
Jake.
His hands are raised, about to knock again. He pauses, his eyes sweeping over me. I can't stop my sharp inhale when his misty cologne hits me—the familiar scent. I would have opened the door wider and let him kiss me right there if he hadn't dumped me.
"Lavina! How shameless can you be?" he spits, anger and disappointment dripping from his voice. "I know you were never raised as a proper lady, but how low can you stoop?"
My entire body locks up. Memories come crashing back—the condescension, the apologies, me begging until he calms down. I always had to be better. Learn etiquette. Fit into his world.
I had started, so I couldn't stop halfway. I kept learning, kept trying—but it was never enough.
"Going to the BKC Arena just to force him to date you and get back at me," he rants. "Because I dumped your ass, you need another rich boy to leech onto. When will you ever learn your lesson?"
I press my teeth hard against my lips, trapping them between my teeth.
Haven't I learned enough? Trying to be the perfect Mrs. Sinclair. Letting go has always been my biggest weakness—the reason I convinced myself we were happy when we weren't. I just couldn't let go. It was always the same routine: I mess up, I plead, then we cuddle. That was happiness… wasn't it? So why do I feel so cheap?
"I'm talking to you, Lavina."
"Stop it, okay!" I snap, kicking the door against the wall as a sob tears out of me. He looks horrified—but I don't care. I'm suffocating. "You always say things to hurt me, to break me. But we're done, Jake. We're over."
"Shut up, Lavina," he orders.
I flinch.
Everything I want to say jams in my throat. I can't argue. I never could.
"You are nothing without me," he says coldly. "Nothing."
The words hit me. My head spins. I reach for the door to steady myself, but it's too far—
And I fall.
"Lavina."