Chapter Four: Deal

Aria's POV

The conversation between Jameson's mum and I was about the honeymoon. She seemed nice, accepting me whole-heartedly which my ‘parents’ had never done.

It was dinner time and I found myself in front of his door with a tray of food in my hand. We need to have a serious conversation about this marriage.

We can't ghost each other forever.

I'm trying to put Mia's advice into action. I took in a deep breath, looking down at the covered scrambled eggs, toast bread, and a small fruit salad.

I hesitated for a moment outside his door before knocking. My heartbeat increased its pace instantly.

I kept on chanting ‘I hope I don't regret this’ in my head repeatedly. After a few seconds, I didn't hear any approval to enter his room.

I knocked again, same thing. I pressed my ear on the door to check if he was taking a shower. The inside was deadly silent.

Or maybe he knew it was me. No, perhaps I need to talk.

“Please, can I come in?” I pleaded, I didn't get a response from inside again, but I took it as a yes. That was a daring move but he can't murder me for that.

I pushed the door open cautiously, thankful that it wasn't locked, found him by the window, his back turned to me. His wheelchair was positioned at an angle, and he didn’t even turn around to acknowledge the presence of who entered.

“I brought you dinner,” I said, setting the plate on the small table near the window. Trying not to act nervous around him but be natural. This arrogant dude is my husband.

“I didn’t ask for it,” he said coldly, still not looking at me.

“You’re welcome,” I muttered under my breath as I walked closer to him.

“You heard me,”

“Well, I got it anyway,” I retorted, folding my arms. He didn't leave his position, and continued to pretend as if I didn't exist.

“I didn’t come here just to serve you. We need to talk.” I said, fidgeting. Even though I didn't want to act nervous, he was making me.

“Leave, young lady. I hate it when my privacy is being disturbed.” He asserted indifferently.

He was acting like a stubborn child.

“I'm your wife, mister. So you can't avoid me forever. We need to have a conversation NOW.” I emphasized, trying not to sound pissed.

His head turned slightly, his profile sharp against the illuminated light in the room.

I'm struck by his chiseled features. His blond hair was perfectly messy, framing a face that's undeniably handsome. Despite being seated in a wheelchair, his well-built physique is evident, and I find myself wondering what circumstances led him to this.

His jawline was strong, his nose straight, and his lips curved with a sneer.

“About what?” I took a deep breath, stepping closer when I heard him. Trying to concentrate on the matter at hand.

“This… situation. Us. We can’t keep acting like ghosts. We’re married, whether we like it or not…..”

“Thank you for reminding me about this. Is that all?” He cut me off rudely.

“I'm not done yet.” I muttered, he hissed and rode his wheelchair away.

“I'm not in for this meaningless chat. I need to take a shower, so leave now.” He ordered coldly.

His true-self was surfacing already. I went to stand in front of him.

“....We might as well make the best of it. That was what I was about to say before you cut me off.” I stated rudely.

If he wants to be rude, I can be too.

His gaze lingered on my face for a moment before he let out a bitter laugh.

“The best of it? Do you think this is some romantic comedy where the broken man and his unwanted wife magically fall in love?” I rolled my eyes, my patience already wearing thin.

“Spare me the sarcasm. I’m serious. We don’t have to like each other, but we can at least agree to coexist peacefully.”

“And why would I want to do that?” he asked, his tone mocking.

“Because being bitter and rude isn’t helping either of us,” I snapped. “And I think it’s hilarious how you’re acting like I begged to marry you. Newsflash: I didn’t want this either. You think you’re miserable? Join the club. You’re not the only one who got dragged into this. But here we are.”

His jaw tightened, and I could see the storm brewing in his eyes.

“You married me because of the peanuts my parents gave yours. So quit the fvcking innocent act you're wearing now,” he spat, his voice low and dangerous.

I only kept staring at him without saying a word. He always wants to have the last say, and arguing won't help either of us.

“Can I ask you something instead?” I asked, crossing my arms after a long silence. His glare deepened without responding to me.

“What happened to you? Are you always like this? Was it just the accident, or were you always this unbearable?” His hands gripped the armrests of his wheelchair so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

“Get out,” he said through clenched teeth.

“No.” My voice was firm, unwavering. “You can’t just keep pushing people away and acting like it’s the only way to protect yourself.” I lectured, judging by the way he spoke to his mum earlier.

His eyes burned with fury, and his grip tightened on the wheelchair.

“You don't know what it's like," he shot back coldly, “To be reduced to this. To everyone pity you, mock you, worse—forget you even exist,"

I sighed and knelt beside him, meeting his fierce gaze.

“I think you let this chair define you,” I said. “You’re so busy wallowing in self-pity that you can’t see the people who actually want to help you.”

The room was silent for a moment, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Finally, he let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his dark hair.

“I'm trying so hard to keep up with you, young lady. Just get out of my room before I lose it,” he warned, not meeting my gaze.

This made a smile curled on my lips, all he could do was just to threaten people but there is this soft spot in him that he's trying to bury inside him. Appearing to be a bitter person.

“I want us to make a deal,” I said, my voice softening slightly as I stood up with my arms crossed.

“Help me achieve my dreams, and I promise to repay you in the future. Also, I’ll help you get back on your feet, literally.” He raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. And I began my explanation about my admission and my ambition.

“And why should I trust you?”

“You don’t have to trust me,” I replied. “But you don’t have many other options, do you?” For a moment, he just stared at me, his gaze searching.

“You can never repay me. What I want in return is for you to divorce me and end this miserable marriage,” My eyes shone in surprise. I wasn't expecting such demand from him.

Well, it's cool for me. I thumbs up then he added.

“Don’t make me regret it. If you screw this up, I won’t hesitate to make you pay for it.” His nasty attitude needs serious repair.

“You need to apologize to your mum. You were badly rude to her earlier.”

“That's none of your business.”

“Agreed.” I affirmed almost immediately, “But she isn't happy to see you in this condition either. Your bitterness is only making things worse.” I paused, wanting to make my words linger in the air.

I rose to my feet, dragged the table to his front.

“I'm not that much of great a cook. But you can eat this rather than staying hungry.” I smiled at him, uncovering the plates.

“Good night, mister.” My smile widened, walking backward before I turned around and left the room.

‘Great Job, Aria.’ I complimented myself in my head as I walked out of his room.