Boxes and Goodbyes

Amelia stared at the pile of papers spread out across Jane’s dining table. Clinic bills, landlord notices, a rejected grant application. The morning light filtering in through the blinds did nothing to soften the tight knot in her chest. Her fingers curled around her coffee mug, now lukewarm, as Jane padded barefoot into the room.

“I made toast,” Jane said softly. “Though what you really need is a miracle.”

Amelia tried to smile. Failed. “Unless that miracle comes in the form of six months' back rent and a working ultrasound machine, I think I’m screwed.”

Jane sat beside her, tucking one leg under the other. “So… the offer?”

Amelia exhaled. “It’s crazy.”

“Crazy,” Jane agreed. “But so is letting everything you’ve built fall apart because you’re too stubborn to take help.”

“It’s not help. It’s a contract marriage with a man I barely know.”

Jane raised an eyebrow. “You’ve done worse. Remember third-year neurosurgery rotation?”

Amelia let out a laugh, brittle but real. Still, her eyes drifted back to the papers. Her clinic wasn’t just a job. It was her rebellion. Her promise to every woman who ever felt unseen by the system. But right now, it was crumbling.

Jane reached across the table, placing a hand over Amelia’s. “If he’s offering a lifeline, why are you clinging to the weight?”

Silence.

By evening, Amelia found herself pacing her apartment. She had received an email from him that he would be coming back the next day. Her hands hugged the coffee mug a little too tight.

Her stomach churned with uncertainty and too many questions. What kind of man offered marriage like it was a business deal? What kind of woman seriously considered it?

The knock at the door startled her. She opened it to find Frederick in a tailored black coat, his expression unreadable, like stone under moonlight.

"May I come in?"

She stepped aside, unsure if she should speak first. He walked in like he’d been there before, like he belonged, and her apartment- small, chaotic, full of cluttered dreams. It seemed to quiet in his presence.

"I know you have questions," he said. "But let me explain what this is."

She nodded. He sat, the contract in hand, and unfastened the seal with precision. "This is a strategic alliance. Blackwell Empire is on the verge of restructuring. My grandfather left me the company, but his conditions were... archaic. I need to be married. Publicly. Legally. Immediately."

"So you chose me." Amelia said quietly, voice dry.

"Yes. I had my assistant look into you. I know about your clinic. I know it’s drowning. And I know you’d never accept help unless it looked like something else. So I turned it into something else."

She looked away.

"You’ll have full autonomy. I’ll fund the clinic and everything you need. You’ll play the role of my wife for a fixed term. In return, you walk away with the clinic secured, your reputation intact, and no obligations. No strings. Unless you want them."

Her heart beat too loud.

"Why me? Really? You could’ve chosen anyone. A socialite. Someone who knows how to smile for the cameras."

"Because you don’t smile for anyone unless you mean it."

Silence stretched between them, electric.

"What if this gets messy?"

"It won’t. I won’t let it."

She reached for the folder. Her hands trembled.

"You’re asking me to give up everything I know. To walk into your world and pretend."

"Not pretend," he said softly. "Protect."

She blinked.

"Protect what?"

"Your clinic. My company. Maybe something more. I don't know yet. But I know I need this to work. And I want it to be you."

She stared at the contract, then at him.

"If I sign this... everything changes."

"Yes. But maybe not in the way you fear."

She opened the folder. And signed.

*****

The morning sun spilled softly through the blinds of Jane’s apartment, casting golden lines across the hardwood floor. Amelia stood in the middle of the living room, her duffel bag slung over one shoulder, and her fingers grazing the edge of the old couch they’d spent countless nights laughing, venting, crying over broken dates and missed chances. This had been home. But now everything was about to change.

A soft knock on the door broke the silence. Jane opened it to find two men in pressed uniforms—members of the moving company Frederick had sent—standing politely with a clipboard and warm smiles. Amelia’s breath caught. This was real. The start of something new.

Jane turned around, her eyes glassy with unshed tears but her mouth lifting into a wide, proud smile. “Well, looks like Prince Charcoal Suit came through.”

Amelia gave a soft laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s just temporary. You know that.”

“Temporary or not, you're about to live in a place with floors that don’t creak and showers that don’t leak,” Jane teased, stepping closer. “You’re not just moving, Lia. You’re stepping into something big. And I’m proud of you.”

Amelia blinked quickly, then stepped into her best friend’s embrace, holding on tight.

“I’m going to miss living you,” she whispered.

“Not as much as I’ll miss hearing you fight with my toaster every morning,” Jane murmured with a chuckle, then pulled back. “Promise me something.”

Amelia nodded. “Anything.”

“Don’t forget who you are in that big mansion. Don’t let his suits and smooth lines drown out your fire.”

Amelia smiled, her eyes now misty. “I won’t. We're still going to see each other at work." She laughed

Boxes began disappearing into the hallway, and the apartment slowly emptied. Amelia took one last look around, then grabbed her coat.

As they walked toward the elevator, Jane nudged her. “It still won't be the same especially since you're not coming in today. You better text me the moment you arrive.”

“I will.”

“And if he hurts you, billionaire or not, I will slash his tires with my stethoscope.”

Amelia laughed, the sound ringing with nerves and hope. “Duly noted.”

The doors shut closed, taking her out toward a new life-one filled with unknowns, silent agreements, and a man whose eyes still haunted her dreams. She didn’t know what waited at the end of this road.

But for now, she was choosing it anyway.

****

The car pulled up to a towering glass structure nestled in the heart of the city, sleek and silent against the morning sky. As Amelia stepped out, her breath caught. The penthouse wasn’t just a home, it was a statement. The concierge greeted her by name, and the elevator ride felt like it was carrying her into another world. When the doors slid open, warm lighting spilled onto polished marble floors, and a vast expanse of windows framed the skyline like a painting. She stepped inside, shoes clicking softly, the scent of cedarwood lingering in the air. For the first time, the weight of it all settled in. This was real. She had moved in with Frederick Blackwell.