The Lover Behind my Back

Helena's POV

“You are getting married to him tomorrow, and that's final.”

For a moment, I honestly thought I’d misheard my grandfather. 

The words sounded too absurd, too unrealistic, like something that shouldn't belong to the same conversation I’d been having just seconds ago. 

I stood up abruptly, frozen in the middle of the living room with my fingers curled around my phone tightly.

My heartbeat thundered loudly in my ears, blocking out every other sound for what felt like a minute.

“What did you just say?” I asked slowly.

My grandfather, Arthur Hale was still sitting in his leather armchair like some sort of king on his throne.

He looked composed and unbothered by my change in mood.

His silver hair was neatly combed while his posture remained straight despite his age. 

He looked at me the way he always did when he’d already made up his mind. “I said you are going to marry him tomorrow, Helena,” he replied firmly.

“No.” The word burst out of me before I could stop it. “Absolutely not,” I added, firmer this time around.

His jaw tightened as he looked to be visibly annoyed. “This is not a discussion,” he said, trying to dismiss me.

I laughed all of a sudden as the whole situation looked funny now. 

“Oh, it very much is. You don’t get to wake up one morning and decide my life for me,” I shot back.

“I didn’t wake up this morning to decide anything,” he replied calmly. “This arrangement has been in place for months,” he added.

That made my stomach drop. “An arrangement? For months?” I repeated slowly. “What kind of arrangement?”

He leaned forward slightly, resting his hands on his knees. “Your marriage of course. I’ve already agreed to every detail of it,” he explained.

The room felt suddenly too small as though the air in it had thinned out. “You agreed to every detail? With who? And without telling me?!”

“Yes, and who isn't important right now,” he replied.

“What are you even saying?” I asked, itching my head.

“I knew you would have protested like you are doing now, the reason I didn't tell you earlier,” he replied as if that explained everything.

“Uhm, of course I would protest! I’m not some livestock!” I yelled despite my effort to stay calm. “You don’t get to trade me off like a business deal, papa,” I added in a lighter note.

He frowned. “Watch your tone.”

“No,” I shot back. “You watch your control issues. I’m not marrying some man I’ve never met just because it benefits you,” I replied harshly.

“In correction, it benefits the family,” he replied in an annoyingly calm way. “And of course, you too,” he said.

I shook my head as the anger burned through my chest. “You don’t even know what I want,” I shot back.

“You are right, I don't. But I do know exactly what you need,” he said coolly. “While I know you may want independence, freedom, and of course, recklessness,” he added cockingly.

“You are wrong! I want a choice!” I snapped. “That’s not being reckless. That’s being human!”

Silence fell between us as he didn't say anything immediately. The silence was heavy, very suffocating. 

I could feel my hands trembling at my sides, but I refused to let him see it.

“Who is he?” I demanded. “What’s his name?”

“That’s irrelevant,” he shot back.

“Of course it is,” I muttered bitterly. “Or is this not about me again,” I added bitterly.

His eyes hardened. “You are part of this family, Helena. You don’t get to walk away from your responsibilities as always,” he shot back.

“Responsibilities?” I said, laughing bitterly. “You mean my job?” I asked angrily.

“You’ve been given everything,” he said sharply. “You’ve been given the best of education, a home and good security. What more can be done to earn a little gratitude from you?” He asked in a way I knew wasn't a question.

I couldn't believe it. After all these years, this is how he has chosen to treat me.

“So now you want to use me to cover up your debt?” I asked. “Is that it?”

He didn't need to answer. His silence said everything.

Something inside my chest cracked. I couldn't believe he would do this to me after so long.

“If you go through with this, papa,” I said quietly, “you’ll lose me.”

He studied me for a long moment, then said casually. “You’ll come around at some point.”

That was it. That was the moment I knew there was nothing left to say.

I turned and grabbed my bag from the table. “You don’t own me,” I said, though my voice shook at this point. “And I will never marry a man you choose,” I added while walking past him.

“Helena—”

I slammed the door behind me before he could finish.

I stepped out into the cool evening air that washed painfully against my flushed skin. 

I walked on without any real direction, my strides widened angrily as tears blurred my sight.

I was so close to running through the road, my chest ached and each breath felt more uneven than the last.

How could he do this to me? How could he decide my future like it was nothing?

By the time my legs gave out, I found myself in a quiet part of a park a few blocks away. 

The benches were mostly empty while a few birds loitered around the field. 

I sank onto one of the benches, burying my face in my hands as everything I’d been holding back finally spilled over.

I didn’t know how long I sat there before a gentle voice broke through my thoughts.

“Bad night?”

I looked up sharply, startled by the intrusion.

An elderly woman stood a few steps away with a warm expression and a curious rather than intrusive look. 

She looked to be in her late fifties or early sixties and dressed elegantly but simply too.

Her silver hair was pulled back neatly, and there was something calm about her presence, something grounding.

“I’m fine,” I said automatically, wiping my eyes.

She smiled softly. “That’s usually what people say when they’re not.”

I hesitated, then let out a tired sigh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.”

“No need to apologize,” she said, taking a seat on the space at the other end of the bench. “Sometimes talking helps,” she added.

I didn’t plan to tell her anything, she was a stranger, after all. 

But the words spilled out anyway. I told her everything, about my grandfather, the marriage, the suffocating feeling of being used for his personal benefit.

She listened without interrupting, nodding occasionally with the kindest set of eyes I'd ever seen.

When I finally fell silent, she hummed thoughtfully. “That does sound… complicated,” she said.

“That’s one word for it,” I muttered.

“And you don’t want this marriage at all?” She asked.

“No,” I said firmly. “I want out,” I added honestly.

She studied me for a moment, then smiled a warm smile, before turning almost mischievous.

“Well,” she said gently, “I might just have a solution.”