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One hundred and eighty three

Author: Ese Gwede
last update Last Updated: 2025-05-31 00:43:19

~Fallon~

The silence in the new house was different.

Not like the silence in the mansion, where every quiet moment still buzzed with the weight of what wasn’t being said. That silence had a pulse to it. A pressure. A storm waiting to crack.

This silence was blank.

Thin.

The kind of silence that stretched across smooth marble floors and bounced off showroom walls. Nothing about the space invited emotion. No creases in the leather sofas. No half-read books on the table. No scent lingering in the hallway that reminded me of a life I couldn’t have.

It was beautiful.

And utterly empty.

⸻

I spent the first few hours wandering room to room, not touching anything. Just walking. Like if I kept moving, the grief couldn’t find me.

The bedroom was too neat.

The closet was too big.

And every time I glanced at the king-sized bed, my chest caved in a little more.

Because Reid wasn’t there.

Not behind me.

Not beside me.

Not anywhere.

I stood at the window for too long, watching the security gate clos
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  • Fallon’s Reid: An Arranged Contract   One hundred and ninety three

    ~Reid~I hadn’t touched a drink in three days.That might not sound like much, but lately, three days was a milestone. My body still hummed with the remnants of alcohol, my sleep was fractured, and my thoughts—always haunted, always circling Fallon—were starting to feel like a permanent echo chamber.I’d replayed the interview a hundred times in my head.The ringless hand. The calm voice. The finality in her tone when she said she wanted to protect her peace.She hadn’t said my name once.But I knew who she was protecting her peace from.Me.I’d driven to her place twice. Just sat in the car like a goddamn coward. I told myself I didn’t want to cause a scene. That I respected her space. That I was trying to figure things out before I knocked on her door and asked her to let me back in.But the truth was—I was scared.Scared of seeing the same cold resolve on her face that I’d heard in her voice. Scared she’d already started erasing me from her life. Scared that the version of us we’d

  • Fallon’s Reid: An Arranged Contract   One hundred and ninety two

    ~Fallon~The morning light crept in through sheer curtains I hadn’t bothered to close.I hadn’t meant to sleep in the guest room again. I kept telling myself it was temporary—just a buffer space while I figured things out. But the bed in the master was too big, too cold. Too full of memory.And I hadn’t meant to stay up until 3 a.m. either, staring at the same ceiling, replaying every second of the family meeting like I could rewrite it in my head. Rewrite the moment Reid saw me. The moment I saw him.The moment he didn’t say a word.I rolled out of bed slowly, tugging my robe tighter around me as I padded toward the kitchen. The floors chilled my bare feet. Everything in the house felt just a little too still, like it was waiting for me to claim it—but I hadn’t. Notyet.No staff here. No fixed schedule. No eggs poached to perfection or a pressed green juice waiting at the counter.Just space.Solitude.I clicked on the kettle, the quiet hum filling the room like a second heartbeat. A

  • Fallon’s Reid: An Arranged Contract   One hundred and ninety one

    ~Fallon~I didn’t breathe until the doors shut behind me.Even then, the air felt too thin. Too sharp in my chest. I moved like the ground might collapse under me if I hesitated.My heels echoed against the marble floors as I walked down the corridor of my parents’ estate, faster than I needed to. Like if I slowed down for even a second, the weight of seeing him again would catch up and crush me.Reid.He looked the same.But not really.His suit was tailored—of course it was. His jaw clean-shaven, his cuff links gleaming beneath the perfectly pressed sleeves. But it was the rest of him—the part no one else would’ve noticed—that hit me like a punch to the ribs.His shoulders were slumped. His eyes darker. And when they met mine across that cavernous room, there was something in them I hadn’t seen in weeks.Hunger. Regret. Wreckage.The kind of quiet ruin only I would recognize.Because I’d built it with him.And now I was watching him live inside the ashes of it.⸻I didn’t stop walki

  • Fallon’s Reid: An Arranged Contract   One hundred and ninety

    ~Fallon~The grand dining room of the Callahan estate felt like a battleground.The room was set with crisp white tablecloths, the polished wood of the chairs gleaming in the dim lighting. A few staff members lingered at the edges, observing, as if unsure whether they should interfere with what was to come. There was something suffocating in the air, thick with history, secrets, and the kind of tension that could split even the strongest bonds.I couldn’t believe I was back here. After everything that had happened, after the interviews, the betrayal, and the silence, here I was.Back at the Callahan estate.The sight of his father upturned my stomach, I hated my father inlaw more than anything now. The pitiful and apologetic look in the eyes of Evelyn, Reid’s mother, did nothing to ease the hate boiling in the pit of my stomach. And across from me, seated at the head of the table as usual, was Reid. His jaw was tight, his fingers steepled in front of him, eyes scanning over the paper

  • Fallon’s Reid: An Arranged Contract   One hundred and eighty nine

    ~Fallon~The house was too quiet at night.No distant footsteps in the hallway. No hum of staff moving around like in the mansion. No low murmur of Reid on the phone late at night, pacing near the windows in socks and a dress shirt, barely whispering but somehow still taking up the entire room.Just… stillness.The kind that stretched so deep it made you remember things you weren’t trying to remember.The kind that crept under your skin like cold.I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, and I hated that even the silence sounded like him.I hadn’t cried tonight. Not yet.But I’d also barely slept.Sleep was dangerous now.Because every time I closed my eyes, I saw him.Felt him.⸻Last night, I dreamed we were in the bedroom again—our bedroom.The gold fixtures. The velvet curtains. That stupid antique mirror I always complained about and he never replaced.He was sitting at the edge of the bed, shirtless, head bent like he was thinking too hard, and I walked up behind him, wrapped my

  • Fallon’s Reid: An Arranged Contract   One hundred and eighty nine

    ~Fallon~The moment the interview ended, I closed the laptop and sat there in the quiet.No clapping. No dramatic music. No sigh of relief.Just silence.My palms were still slightly damp from how tightly I’d wrung my hands beneath the desk during the live taping. The studio had dimmed the lights right after, the makeup artist already whisking away to her next job, the host off-camera, saying, “Thank you for being so brave, Fallon,” like she’d just watched a woman walk out of a war zone instead of her own marriage.It kind of felt like that, though.War.Except the enemy wore tailored suits and never raised his voice.The ldrive home was a blur. The driver didn’t speak, which I appreciated. I kept the window cracked, letting the late spring wind cut against my cheeks like it could keep me tethered to reality. My phone vibrated nonstop in my bag, but I didn’t check it. I didn’t need to.I already knew.I collapsed on the couch as the buzz started. Everything felt louder than it shoul

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