010

THE boutique was alive with its usual soft hum of activity. The name “Satin & Sage” gleamed in gold cursive across the glass doors, catching the attention of women passing by. Inside, racks of elegant dresses shimmered under warm lights, their fabrics whispering of class and poise.

In the women’s section, Amelia stood with one of her sales reps, a clipboard in her hand. Her eyes, calm yet sharp, scanned the displays while she gave orders in a gentle but firm tone.

“Shift the emerald gowns closer to the front. They will catch better in the sunlight. And please make sure the mannequins are dressed in full sets, accessories included. Presentation is everything.”

The sales rep nodded and hurried off, leaving Amelia to adjust a lace sleeve on one of the mannequins. Just then, the soft click of heels approached, and Amelia turned.

“Look who we have here,” she said warmly.

It was Claire, dressed impeccably as always, her figure draped in a chic beige pantsuit, her feet in pointed stilettos, and a designer purse dangling casually on her wrist. Her perfume announced her before her lips even parted.

“Hello, big sister,” Claire said, her smile polished but her eyes distant. She glided over and settled gracefully into a velvet sofa nearby, crossing her legs like she owned the space.

Amelia, however, beamed. 

“How is Mom doing? I have been meaning to call her.”

Claire tilted her head, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. 

“You mean, ‘your’ mom?”

“Oh, stop,” Amelia said with a laugh, shaking her head. “She is both ours, no matter how much she plays favorites.”

Claire chuckled but said nothing more, pulling a compact mirror from her purse to check her lipstick.

The sisters chatted for a while, about the house, about Hazel’s latest school antics, about the boutique. But soon, Claire leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing with curiosity.

“So, what’s up with Adrian?” she asked, casually, like it was nothing.

Amelia blinked, caught off guard. 

“What do you mean? We are cool. Everything is fine.”

Claire let out a short laugh, sharp and knowing. 

“Oh please. Don’t give me that happy home performance you are so good at. Adrian called Mom this morning before I left the house.”

Amelia frowned. 

“What?”

“Yes,” Claire went on, delighting in the moment. “He told her you were angry with him. So, spare me the polished look, sis. Spill. I’m not a stranger. I’m family.”

Amelia sighed deeply, setting her clipboard aside. 

“Adrian, always running to Mom for every little thing,” she muttered under her breath.

Claire’s brows arched. 

“Well? What is the issue?”

Amelia hesitated, but when she saw Claire’s persistent stare, she gave in. 

“It is nothing serious. Just… the dinner we planned. He didn’t show up.”

Claire leaned back, amused. 

“Just that? Amelia, the man is busy. Don’t make mountains out of pebbles.”

Amelia’s tone softened, but her face betrayed the hurt she still felt. 

“Hazel was involved, Claire. It wasn’t about me. She wanted that dinner more than anyone. He should have at least considered her feelings.”

Claire waved her hand dismissively. 

“Hazel will understand too. She is smart. She will see that Daddy is a very busy man, working himself to the bone so you and Hazel can have this—” she gestured around the boutique, “—this good life.”

Amelia looked at her sister, speechless. The words pressed against her throat, but none came out. Instead, she swallowed hard and lowered her gaze, folding her arms tightly across her chest.

Claire smiled faintly, satisfied at her silence. 

“This isn’t something you should hold against him. Loosen up a bit. Talk to him. Don’t be ungrateful, Amelia. The man is doing what men do— providing.”

Amelia closed her eyes for a brief moment, trying to steady herself. When she opened them, she changed the subject. 

“How is your boyfriend, Claire?”

Claire burst into laughter, a short, mocking sound. 

“Leave me. Let’s talk about you. And don’t be surprised if Mom calls. She was ranting when I stepped out earlier.”

As if on cue, the phone in Amelia’s hand buzzed to life. She glanced down at the screen. It was Mom.

“Talk of the devil,” Amelia murmured.

Claire scoffed and rose to her feet, smoothing her pantsuit. 

“Well, deal with your problems, sis. I have better things to do than babysit your marriage woes.” She began sifting through a rack of skirts. “Now, where is that Armani piece I saw on Hailey the other day?”

Amelia just sat there, her phone buzzing insistently in her hand, her sister’s laughter ringing faintly in her ears.

***

Adrian stepped out of the building, his polished shoes echoing faintly on the pavement as he made his way toward the parking lot. The late afternoon sun reflected off the sleek black body of his car, and he quickened his steps, loosening his tie with one hand.

Just as he reached for his car keys, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at the screen. 

The Automobile Guy.

He ignored it. Not now. He had enough on his mind. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he shut the door, the faint silence of the car wrapping around him like a cocoon. The phone buzzed again. Same caller ID. With a resigned sigh, he answered.

But the voice on the other end wasn’t the Automobile Guy.

“Finally, baby,” Vivian’s voice purred. “You have been avoiding me… and my calls.”

Adrian frowned, leaning back against the leather seat.

“Vivian, what is it?” His voice was low, clipped.

There was silence on the line. A silence too heavy to be casual. Then—

“Seriously?” she snapped softly, her voice laced with hurt. “Is that the tone you use for me now, huh?”

Adrian rubbed his temple with his thumb and forefinger. 

“Just go straight to the point and talk.”

“Adrian?” she called again, not softer this time, not almost vulnerable, but sharp and hard. It cut through him.

He sighed, letting his shoulders relax. 

“Babe, I’m sorry. I have been busy.”

“Busy?” she repeated, incredulous. “Busy for your Vivian?”

“Ahh, Vivian, it is work.” His patience was thinning.

But her words came rushing, like a dam broken. 

“No, no. Don’t do that. Don’t dismiss me like that. It has been two weeks already. Two whole weeks since your birthday. I haven’t set eyes on you, Adrian. I haven’t held you close. I haven’t kissed you. I haven’t felt your touch, I—”

“Vivian, please,” he interrupted, his voice firmer, though a small part of him was stirred by her desperation.

“I miss you, baby,” she whispered, her voice trembling, low and sultry. “I miss you so much. Don’t you miss me?”

Adrian swallowed, staring blankly through the windshield. Her words coiled around him, stirring memories he had tried to bury these past days.

“I miss you too,” he admitted finally, his voice quieter. “But I need time with my family. After what happened the last time… I need to spend time with them. With Hazel. With Amelia.”

“Baby, please,” she cut in, her voice softer now, pleading, filled with that sweetness that always pulled at him. “Don’t do this to me. Don’t push me away. You know I can make you feel alive. You know what we have. Come on, Adrian. Just an hour. Just us.”

Her tone curled into him like smoke, tempting, familiar, dangerous. He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly.

There was a long pause, then finally he spoke. 

“Okay. Fine.”

“Really?” her voice lit up at once.

“Yeah. I will be out with the boys. Usual place, usual time. Come meet me there.”

She clapped, the sound of her excitement spilling through the line. 

“Great! Thank you, baby. I will be there.”

He pressed his lips together, guilt already gnawing at the edges of his chest.

“See you,” he said flatly, and ended the call before she could say more.

For a moment, he sat there in silence, staring at his reflection in the darkened screen of his phone. Then, with a sharp exhale, he tossed the device onto the passenger seat and started the car.