Chapter 6

The air between us was so thick with tension, I could practically feel it pressing down on my chest. Theodore stood across from me in my father’s study—a room that had always felt stiff and claustrophobic, even on the best of days. But now, with him here, it felt smaller than ever, like the walls were closing in, daring me to break the silence.

And of course, he looked… annoyingly good. Dark hair swept back with just a few stray strands falling into his eyes, jawline sharper than I remembered, with just the hint of stubble that made him look older, more serious. His eyes—those damn stormy gray eyes—lingered on me, and despite myself, I felt my skin prickle. I hated that time had only made him more attractive. Hated how his presence stirred up something I didn’t want to feel.

I forced myself to look away, trying to focus on anything else, but my gaze kept drifting back to him.

He just stood there, not saying a word, as if he was waiting for me to make the first move. That same maddening calm he’d always had, like nothing could shake him. But I knew him well enough to see the tension beneath it, the way his shoulders were just a little too stiff. I crossed my arms and took a deep breath, determined to keep my cool.

“Well...,” I finally said, my tone sharp but casual. “Here you are. I thought you’d never come back.”

His eyes flickered, just for a second, and I thought I saw something—regret, maybe? Or something softer? But it was gone in an instant. His expression stayed calm, collected, like he hadn’t been gone for eight years.

“I don't know why you thought so,” he replied evenly. “You don’t look thrilled to see me.” hearing his voice made a shiver run down my spine. It was deep and majestic.

“Thrilled?” I raised an eyebrow, my voice thick with sarcasm. “You vanish for eight years, and then suddenly I’m supposed to marry you. Yeah, I’m over the moon.”

He shifted, just a bit, the faintest hint of discomfort flashing across his face. But he didn’t break. He was good at this—keeping his guard up, hiding whatever he was really feeling. But I’d spent years learning how to read him. I knew how to poke at his defenses.

“You know,” I continued, keeping my tone light but with just enough edge, “I know you don't have any intention of marrying me. You're probably here to change the bride to Daphne. Yeah, that Would make more sense.” I said to him, although it felt more like I was telling myself that.

The moment I said her name, I saw it—the way his jaw clenched, the way his fists tightened, just for a second.

“I’m not marrying Daphne,” he said, his voice low and firm. I could hear the irritation there, even if he was trying to keep calm.

I tilted my head, studying him. “Why not? The two of you left together, remember? I thought... I mean, Everyone thought you’d end up together. It seemed… fitting, didn’t it?”

His eyes darkened, and for a brief moment, I wondered if I’d pushed too far. But I needed answers. Eight years ago, he’d chosen her—left with her—and now he was here, standing in front of me, agreeing to marry me. It didn’t add up.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Diane,” he said, his voice tight, like he was holding something back.

“Oh, really?” I let out a bitter laugh, unable to stop myself. “You two were practically glued together back then. She used to brag about how perfect you were for her, like it was some kind of contest. And then, just like that, the two of you disappear. And now you’re here, acting like none of it happened?”

His gaze sharpened, and he stepped closer, the intensity in his eyes catching me off guard. “That’s enough,” he said, his voice low, almost a warning. It wasn’t like him to be this… direct. This raw. I hadn’t expected it, but I wasn’t backing down. Not now.

“Why did you agree to this, Theodore?” I pressed, my voice softening, though I kept my edge. “Why come back to marry me after everything you did to be with her?”

For the first time, I saw his mask slip, just for a second. His eyes softened, meeting mine, and I thought—no, I felt—that maybe he wanted to tell me something real.

But just as quickly, he pulled himself back, his face hardening. “This isn’t about Daphne,” he said, his voice steady but quieter now. “It never was.”

I stared at him, stunned. “That doesn’t even make any sense,” I said, my voice thick with disbelief. He really expected me to believe Daphne hadn’t been his reason for leaving?

He let out a slow breath, looking away like he was searching for the right words. When he finally spoke, his voice was almost… sad. “Some things aren’t as simple as they seem, Diane. And this… this arrangement… it’s complicated.”

I crossed my arms tighter, feeling a mix of frustration and hurt rise up in my chest. “Complicated?” I repeated, my voice sharper than I’d intended. “That’s all you’ve got?”

He met my gaze again, his eyes dark and unreadable. “I don’t expect you to understand. Not yet.”

I opened my mouth to argue, to demand that he stop dancing around the truth, but something in his expression made me pause. There was a weight to his words, a kind of heaviness that I couldn’t ignore. He wasn’t telling me everything—obviously—but whatever this was, it was more than just a business deal.

I didn’t know what to feel. Part of me wanted to keep pushing, to force him to give me real answers. But another part—the part that remembered the boy I used to know, the boy I’d once trusted—told me to let it go. Just for now.

I exhaled slowly, crossing my arms tighter around myself. “Fine,” I said, my voice resigned but still sharp. “Keep your secrets. But don’t think for a second that I’m just going to go along with this without continuing to demand for the truth.”

Theodore’s gaze softened a little, and for a moment, he looked at me as if he were glad I dropped the matter for now. We stood there in silence, the tension still heavy between us but different now—quieter, somehow, but deeper. He took a small step back, like he was giving me space, and I could feel the weight of everything we weren’t saying hanging in the air.

“I’ll give you answers, Diane,” he said softly, his voice almost gentle. “Just… not yet.”

Before I could respond, he turned and headed for the door, leaving me standing there, my heart pounding and my mind tangled with questions.

“Theodore,” I called after him, but he didn’t turn back.

The door closed quietly behind him, leaving me staring at the empty space he’d left behind, feeling more confused than ever. This engagement—whatever it really was—wasn’t as simple as I’d thought. And Theodore Hawthorne wasn’t the same boy I’d once known.

But then again, maybe I wasn’t the same girl, either.