Proposal

Lia woke up alone.Not unusual. Julian's side of the bed was cold and empty, sheets perfectly smooth like he hadn't come home at all. She checked her phone. 6:47 AM. No missed calls. No texts explaining where he was.

She used to worry when this happened. Used to call him twenty times, imagine car accidents and emergencies. Now she just felt numb.

The after-party must have been really good.

She got up, showered, dressed in jeans and a sweater. Clothes that were hers, not the designer outfits Margaret approved of. It was Saturday, which meant no charity events, no business dinners, no pretending. She could be herself for one day.

Except she wasn't sure who that was anymore.

By nine-thirty, she was out the door. The drive to Isla's café took twenty minutes through morning traffic. Silvercrest was beautiful this time of day, all coastal fog and quiet streets before the city fully woke up. She used to love this city. Used to walk these streets with sketchbooks, finding inspiration in random corners.

Now she barely left the house except for Julian's events.

Isla's café was called The Daily Grind, tucked into a corner on Maple Street downtown. It was small, cozy, with mismatched furniture and local art on the walls. The complete opposite of everything in Lia's current life, which was probably why she loved it.

Isla was behind the counter when Lia walked in, her dark hair pulled into a messy bun, flour on her apron. She took one look at Lia and pointed to their usual table in the back corner.

"Sit. I'm bringing coffee and some good pastries."

Lia sat. The café smelled like fresh bread and coffee beans and something cinnamon. Normal. Real. She felt her shoulders relax for the first time in days.

Isla appeared five minutes later with two enormous lattes and a plate of croissants. She dropped into the chair across from Lia and studied her with worried eyes.

"You look terrible."

"Thanks. I love you too."

"I'm serious, Lia. When's the last time you actually slept? Or ate something that wasn't at some fancy event where you push food around your plate?"

Lia picked up her latte, wrapping both hands around the warm cup. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine. You haven't been fine for years." Isla leaned forward, voice dropping. "Talk to me. Really talk to me. What's going on?"

For a moment, Lia considered lying. She was so good at lying now, at pretending everything was perfect. But this was Isla. Her best friend since college. The one person who'd never judged her, never asked her to be anyone but herself.

"Julian didn't come home last night," she said quietly.

Isla's expression hardened. "Again?"

"Again."

"Did he call? Text?"

"No."

"That absolute piece of..." Isla bit off whatever she was going to say and took a breath. "Okay. What are you going to do about it?"

"What can I do? He'll come home eventually with some excuse about falling asleep at someone's house or his phone dying. He always does."

"And you'll just accept it?"

Lia stared into her coffee. "What choice do I have?"

"Leave him."

The words hung in the air between them. Simple. Impossible.

"It's not that easy," Lia said.

"Why not? You're miserable. He treats you like garbage. You have no kids tying you to him. Just leave."

"The Whitmores would destroy me. You know how much power they have in this city. Margaret would make sure I couldn't work anywhere, couldn't show my face anywhere. And the prenup..." She trailed off. The prenup Julian's lawyers had pushed before the wedding. The one that left her with almost nothing if she filed for divorce.

"So you're just going to stay? Keep pretending? Watch him cheat on you until you disappear completely?"

Put like that, it sounded pathetic. It was pathetic.

"I don't know," Lia whispered. "I don't know what to do."

Isla reached across the table and grabbed her hand. "I know what you should do. Find a good lawyer. Document everything. Fight back."

"With what money? Everything's in Julian's name. The house, the cars, the bank accounts. I don't even have my own credit card anymore. Margaret said married women didn't need separate finances."

"Jesus Christ." Isla sat back, rubbing her face. "Okay. Okay. We'll figure something out. You can stay with me if you need to. The apartment's small but..."

"I can't drag you into this. The Whitmores would come after you too."

"Let them try. I'm not scared of some rich assholes who think money makes them untouchable."

Despite everything, Lia smiled. "You're the best friend I've ever had. You know that?"

"I know. Which is why I'm going to keep telling you the truth even when you don't want to hear it. You deserve better than Julian Whitmore. You always have."

They sat in silence for a moment, drinking coffee and picking at croissants. The café was filling up with the morning crowd, people laughing and chatting, living normal lives. Lia envied them.

"Tell me something good," she said finally. "Tell me about the café. About your life. I need to remember that good things exist."

Isla's expression softened. "Well, I'm thinking about expanding. Maybe knocking out the back wall, adding more seating. Business has been really good lately."

"That's amazing. You've worked so hard for this."

"Yeah. It's mine, you know? I built it. No one can take it away from me." She paused, then added carefully, "You used to have that. The gallery job. Your art. You were so happy."

"That was a long time ago."

"It doesn't have to be. You could go back to it. Start over."

"I'm almost thirty, Isla. I've been out of that world for five years. No gallery would hire me now."

"So start your own. Be your own boss."

Lia laughed, but it came out bitter. "With what money? I just told you, I have nothing."

"Not yet. But you could. If you plan this right, if you fight for what you deserve..."

Lia's phone buzzed on the table. A text from Julian.

**Julian:** Home now. Where are you?

Her stomach twisted. He was home. Finally,

**Lia:** At Isla's café. Be home soon.

**Julian:** We need to talk.

Four words that made her blood run cold. We need to talk. Nothing good ever followed those words.

"What is it?" Isla asked, watching her face.

"Julian. He wants to talk."

"About what?"

"I don't know. But..." She stood up, suddenly anxious to get home, to face whatever was coming. Better to know than to spend all day worrying. "I should go."

"Lia, wait." Isla stood too, catching her arm. "If he hurts you, if he does anything, you call me immediately. I don't care what time it is. Promise me."

"He's never hit me."

"There's more than one way to hurt someone. Promise me."

Lia squeezed her friend's hand. "I promise."

The drive home felt too short. Her heart was pounding by the time she pulled into the driveway of the Ravencourt Estate. Julian's Tesla was parked at an angle, like he'd been in a hurry.

She found him in the living room, still wearing last night's suit, looking rumpled and tired. He was pouring himself a drink even though it wasn't even noon yet. Whiskey, straight.

That was new.

"You wanted to talk?" Lia said from the doorway.

Julian turned, and something in his expression made her freeze. Not anger. Not guilt. Something worse.

Resignation.

"Sit down," he said.

"I'd rather stand."

"Lia. Sit."

She sat on the edge of the couch, hands folded in her lap, feeling like a child called to the principal's office. Hating herself for feeling that way.

Julian took a long drink, then set the glass down. "I've been thinking a lot lately. About us. About this marriage."

Her heart hammered. "Okay."

"We're not happy. You know that, right? Neither of us."

She couldn't argue with that. "No. We're not."

"I think..." He ran a hand through his hair. "I think we've been doing this wrong. Trying to force something that doesn't work anymore."

"What are you saying?" Her voice came out steadier than she felt.

Julian looked at her directly for the first time. "I think we should open the marriage."

Lia blinked. "What?"

"An open marriage. We stay married, keep up appearances for our families and society. But we're free to see other people. No sneaking around. No lying. Just... freedom."

The room tilted. She gripped the edge of the couch cushion, trying to process what he'd just said.

"You want to see other people," she repeated slowly.

"I think we both should be able to. No restrictions. No judgment."

"You're already seeing other people, Julian. You have been for years."

He had the grace to look away. "I know. And I'm sorry for that. But this way, it's honest. Out in the open. And you could too, if you wanted."

"If I wanted." Her voice was flat.

"Yeah. I mean, you're beautiful, Lia. You could have anyone."

She started to laugh. Couldn't help it. The sound came out harsh and a little broken. "You're asking for permission to keep cheating on me. That's what this is."

"I'm asking for us to be realistic. We haven't been in love for a long time. Maybe we never were. But divorce would be messy, expensive, and our families would lose their minds. This way, everyone gets what they want."

"What I want," Lia said carefully, "is a husband who actually loves me. Who comes home at night. Who doesn't treat me like I'm invisible unless there's an audience."

"That's not fair."

"Isn't it?" She stood up, anger finally cutting through the shock. "You want an open marriage? Fine. But don't pretend this is about both of us being happy. This is about you wanting to have your cake and eat it too. Keep the perfect wife for show while you sleep with whoever you want."

Julian's jaw clenched. "I'm trying to be honest with you for once."

"Honesty would have been not cheating in the first place."

"Are you going to say yes or not?"

The question hung between them. Lia stared at her husband, this man she'd promised forever to, and realized she didn't recognize him anymore. Maybe she never had.

"I need to think about it," she said finally.

"Take your time." Julian picked up his drink again. "But Lia? I'm doing this whether you agree or not. I'd just prefer to do it without lying."

And there it was. The truth. He wasn't asking. He was telling.

She walked out of the room before he could see her cry.