chapter 4: The Other Side of the Arrangement

In Ivory Mansion.

The chandelier above the grand staircase scattered warm light across marble floors polished to a mirror shine, the kind of opulence that had long since stopped impressing the family who lived beneath it. Lance Ivory stood at the base of the stairs, arms crossed, doing his best impression of a man who had not, in fact, already lost this argument.

"I don't want to get married," he said again, as if repetition might change his parents' minds.

His father, Ivan Ivory, didn't even look up from whatever he was doing. "It's for your safety, son."

"Trust me, son," his mother Eira added, voice warm and utterly unconvincing in its reassurance, "they are very nice people."

Lance exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. "But I can take care of myself."

That seemed to strike a nerve. Eira's expression flickered, something tired and worn settling behind her eyes. "If you can take care of yourself," she said slowly, "then you wouldn't have…" She stopped herself, shaking her head. "Nevermind." Instead of finishing the thought, she reached up and began massaging her own temples, as though the conversation alone had given her a headache.

It was Ivan who finally offered something resembling a compromise. "Six months," he said. "Just six months. After that, you can divorce him if you don't want it. Okay?"

Lance studied his father's face, searching for some trick in the offer and finding none — or at least none he could argue his way out of. He sighed, long and resigned. "Sighs Ok…"

The agreement had barely settled into the room when the front doors opened, and the temperature of the conversation changed entirely.

Adira and Megat arrived. As soon as they arrived, Eira jump-hugged Adira.

"My baby," Adira said warmly, pressing a kiss to Eira's forehead like the years between them hadn't passed at all.

"Sighs I hope to meet them soon," Eira murmured, still holding onto her old friend.

"You will meet them at Lance's marriage," Adira said simply, as if that settled the matter entirely.

Lance blinked. "Wait… I'm getting married into your house?"

Adira tilted her head, genuinely puzzled by his confusion. "You didn't know?"

"Mom, dad," Lance said, turning toward his parents with the particular betrayal only family could inspire, "told me I'm getting married, but I didn't know with whom."

"I told you they were good people," Eira said, entirely unbothered by the fact that she had conveniently left out several crucial details.

From somewhere deeper in the house, a voice rang out, unmistakable in its enthusiasm. "Runs downstairs AUNTYYYY!"

The reunion that followed was loud, chaotic, and full of warmth — the kind of noise that only happened when two families who'd known each other for decades finally collided again under one roof. Adira's gaze swept the room, settling on her old friend's husband and the family patriarch standing nearby, and something mischievous sparked behind her eyes.

"Jesus, can you two get along please," she said to her husband and Ivan, though neither of them had said a word yet. Then, almost as an afterthought: "Now that I think of it, you both will look good together."

Megat and Ivan looked at each other.

Both men made identical pained faces, the universal expression of two people realizing they were about to be teased mercilessly for the rest of the visit.

"Keep your wife away from mine," Megat said flatly to Ivan, only half joking.

Ivan's expression hardened in mock offense. "I'm not your PA anymore. So stop ordering me, old man." He turned and walked off without waiting for a response.

"This bitc—" Megat started, clearly affronted, though no one stuck around to hear the rest of the insult.

Lance, watching the whole exchange unfold, couldn't help the small laugh that escaped him. "Chuckle Didn't aunty buy his Lance ice cream?"

Adira's face went momentarily blank. "I forgot, baby…" She turned immediately to her husband, all business. "Hey, get up and go bring my Lance ice cream."

Megat stared at her. "Am I your husband anymore or not?"

"I'm also questioning that," Adira replied without missing a beat.

"Honeyyyy," Megat whined, clearly hoping for some sympathy and finding absolutely none.

Ivan, watching from a few feet away, burst out laughing, only to be immediately swatted down by his own wife.

"What you're laughing for?" Eira snapped. "Go prepare lunch."

Ivan's laughter died instantly, replaced by the same long-suffering expression Megat was already wearing.

"Go get the ice cream before I sign divorce papers," Adira added, deadly serious despite the absurdity of the threat, and Megat practically bolted from the room without another word, leaving behind nothing but a small gust of motion.

Once the men had scattered to their respective chores, Eira turned back to her old friend, the playful edge softening into something more sincere. "So, dear, when are we going to meet your children? I last saw them when they were around fifteen."

Adira pressed a hand to her forehead, the weight of the question settling over her instantly. "I myself barely see them. These bitc—" She caught herself, glancing toward Lance with an apologetic little smile. "These cuties just don't know where they live."

"I missed you so much," Eira said, pulling Adira into another hug.

"Aww, I should have married you," Adira said, only half joking. "I don't want this old man."

A small, wounded noise escaped Megat, who had apparently returned just in time to hear that.

"Right," Eira agreed without hesitation. "I don't want this creature too."

Ivan, equally wounded, made the same small defeated gesture as Megat, two grown men reduced to silent suffering by their own wives' affectionate betrayal.

"Come inside," Eira said warmly, waving everyone through.

Adira and Eira looked at their husbands as they were standing awkwardly, clearly enjoying the moment a beat longer than necessary before finally relenting and letting them back into the fold.

The group settled into the sitting room eventually, the conversation drifting into easy, familiar rhythms — old friends catching up on years they'd missed, husbands trading wounded looks behind their wives' backs, the whole house humming with a kind of chaos that only long history could produce.

"They all sat on the couch as they were talking," and for a moment, everything felt unhurried, almost peaceful.

"Lance, baby, come downstairs," Eira called out at one point, and Lance made his way down obediently, pausing at the bottom to take in the small crowd gathered in his living room.

"Aunty, uncle?" he greeted, uncertain.

Adira's face lit up instantly. "AWW MY BABY, I MISSED YOU SO MUCH," she said, pulling him into a tight hug before he could even brace for it.

"I missed you too, aunty," Lance said, laughing despite himself. "It's been years." He smiled, genuinely, the earlier tension of the morning's argument momentarily forgotten.

"Time really flies away," Adira said, holding him at arm's length to look him over properly, something soft and nostalgic passing behind her eyes — the look of a woman remembering a child she hadn't realized had grown up so quickly.

Lance opened his mouth to respond, but whatever he was about to say dissolved the moment the front door opened one more time, and a new presence stepped into the room — one that would, in roughly six months or considerably less, change absolutely everything about the careful, comfortable life he'd built for himself.