Choose One

Eve

My fingers trembled a little as I stared at his message. Saturday by 9 p.m. The exact moment I was supposed to finalize everything that would save my inheritance. I typed quickly, pushing down the uneasiness in my chest.

Me: I have plans for that day and that time. How about we choose another day? Or I can even come tomorrow, if that works for you.

I pressed send and waited, just hoping he would listen to reason for once.

His reply came almost immediately.

Sage: It’s that day and that time; don’t miss it. If you do, I’ll bring you forcefully.

I blinked at the screen, my breath catching. Forcefully? Whatever that meant, it wasn’t something I wanted to experience. Before I could overthink it, another message popped up.

Sage: I’ll send you the location on Saturday.

“What?” I whispered, sitting up straight. Absolutely not. I started typing again, faster this time.

Me: Look, I really can’t come. I have something very important to do. Extremely important. I can meet you on Saturday morning or maybe around 11. Please just choose another time.

I sent it. And… nothing.

There was no reply.

I waited. A minute passed. Two. Five. Ten. I kept staring at the screen until my eyes burned. By the time one hour slipped by, I still hadn’t gotten anything from him.

He ignored me. Completely.

At some point, exhaustion finally dragged me under, and I drifted off with the phone still in my hand.

***

The next few days were miserable.

Every morning I woke up with the same knot in my chest. I kept checking my phone even though I hated myself for it. I sent him messages—reasonable ones, apologetic ones, and firm ones—trying to find a way out of this absurd situation, but Sage never replied.

Not even once.

Which meant only one thing: his decision was final. Saturday, 9 p.m. With or without my consent.

The frustration built up so much that Mia practically tiptoed around me for days. She barely spoke, barely breathed in my direction. Every time she got near me, I felt anger bubbling because a part of me still blamed her. She was the one who put fear in my head. She was the one who made me unblock him. She was the one who dragged me right into this storm.

And now I was left to deal with the consequences.

I paced in my room, combing my fingers through my hair. “God, what am I going to tell the lawyers?” They were the real problem—not the groom, not the contract, but the lawyers. They were strict, busy men who did not appreciate delays or last-minute excuses.

I had to send them a message soon, something convincing enough that they wouldn’t question my credibility. Something believable. But every excuse I rehearsed sounded stupid to my own ears.

I sat down heavily on the edge of my bed, burying my face in my palms.

Saturday was coming fast, and Sage wasn’t responding. And I was stuck. Completely, hopelessly stuck.

I was so irritated and upset that even Mia made sure to keep her distance, tiptoeing around me so she wouldn’t make anything worse. And honestly, yes, part of me blamed her. All this stress, all this fear, and all this confusion started with her warnings.

Eventually, I sat down and spent a long time drafting an email, crafting the most reasonable, mature excuses I could think of. When I finally sent it, I texted the man as well. Hours later, they all replied, agreeing to move it from Saturday to Sunday instead. Relief washed over me like cold water on a hot day. At least something was going right.

Later Mia stopped avoiding me. We ended up spending the evening together, drinking a little, ordering food, doing karaoke, dancing, and laughing—just being us again. For the first time all week, I felt lighter.

While we were halfway through a song, my phone buzzed. I excused myself and checked it, expecting something trivial, but it was Clarissa. A reminder. “Don’t forget you’re donating blood on Monday.”

I blinked, sighed softly, and sent a thumbs-up emoji before setting my phone aside. “What’s wrong?” Mia asked as she placed the mic down.

“Nothing serious,” I said. “It’s just that blood donation thing on Monday.”

“I hope you’re eating your veggies,” she said with genuine worry.

That made me laugh, and I nodded. “Trust me, I am. Come on, let’s continue.” And just like that, the night carried on, warm and bright, distracting me from everything I didn’t want to think about.

Even after we finished singing, my mind wouldn’t stay completely focused on the fun. I kept checking my phone every now and then, pretending it was just habit, pretending I wasn’t waiting for a message that clearly wasn’t coming. Each time the screen stayed empty, a small, sharp disappointment spread through my chest. Mia noticed once or twice but didn’t say anything, and I was grateful for it. I didn’t want to talk about Sage, not when everything already felt like it was slipping out of my control.

Eventually, we got tired of dancing, collapsed onto the couch, and ordered late-night snacks. The room smelled like fries and spicy chicken, and for a moment, the comfort of it all loosened the tightness around my heart. We talked about random things like work gossip, the annoying lady downstairs who complained about everything, and even plans for the upcoming holiday. Still, every time Mia mentioned Saturday or Sunday, my stomach twisted a little.

By the time it got close to midnight, I stretched on the couch and stared at the ceiling. “Do you think I made the right choice?” I asked quietly.

Mia paused, mid-bite, then placed the food down. “About what? Sage or the meeting?”

“Everything,” I said, covering my face with my hands. “I feel like no matter what I do, someone ends up angry or disappointed. Sage is ignoring me, the lawyers probably think I’m unserious, and I’m just… tired.”

Mia scooted closer and nudged me with her shoulder. “You made the responsible choice. The contract meeting is important. And if Sage has a problem with you having a life outside him, then that’s on him. He’ll calm down.”

I hoped she was right, but doubt clung to me stubbornly.