Will you marry me?

PART 7

The ticking of the watch on Ryan’s wrist sounded like a countdown in the quiet corner of the restaurant. He checked it for the tenth time in five minutes.

Ryan was a man whose life was measured in spreadsheets and back-to-back meetings. Squeezing this encounter into his schedule had been a nightmare, yet here he was, sitting alone with a cold cup of water.

​"Someone who has zero sense of punctuality," Ryan muttered, his grip tightening on his phone.

​Another ten minutes crawled by. His patience, usually a sturdy wall, was crumbling into dust. He started to wonder if this was all a cruel joke. Had Zane invited him here just to make him wait?

Just as Ryan pushed his chair back to leave, the heavy glass door of the cafe swung open.

​Zane walked in like he owned the air in the room. He looked casual,dangerously so with a full-sleeved shirt rolled up to his elbows and the top two buttons undone.

He moved with a confident stride that seemed to ignore the fact that he was nearly forty minutes late.

​Ryan froze. He tried to look annoyed, but his eyes betrayed him, tracing the familiar yet different lines of Zane’s face.

​"I said... hi." Zane snapped his fingers right in front of Ryan’s nose.

​Ryan blinked, heat rushing to his cheeks.

"You're late."

​"Being a big business icon hasn't changed you at all, huh? Still the same old stiff Ryan," Zane laughed, dragging a chair out and sitting Across to him.

​The proximity made Ryan’s heart do a nervous flutter, a feeling he despised. He looked away quickly, trying to regain his professional mask.

"Why did you want to meet, Zane? I don't have all day."

​Zane’s smile faded slightly, replaced by a weary sigh. "You already know why. After I got home yesterday, Dad talked to me."

​Zane’s mind drifted back to the previous night, to the cold office of his father, Victor.

​Flashback: The Night Before

​"What have you decided?" Victor had asked, not looking up from his desk.

​"I can't do it, Dad," Zane replied, his voice small but firm.

​Victor crossed his arms, his gaze finally cutting through the air like a knife. "Why not? The Philips are a good family. This union fixes everything."

​"It’s just...You don't understand us."

​"But there is one thing you need to understand,"

Victor said, rising from his chair. "This marriage will happen. I have already given my word."

​"Without my consent?" Zane’s voice sharpened, his hands curling into fists.

​"Yes. This is about more than you, Zane. This is the only way I can rebuild a friendship that was shattered years ago. I won't let your stubbornness stop that."

​"So my life is just a tool for your guilt?" Zane asked, his voice trembling with a mix of hurt and anger.

​

"Zane," Victor’s voice turned to stone.

"I am not a man who begs. Even without your signature, I can make this happen. I’m giving you one day. By tomorrow, I want a 'yes'."

​"Zane? Are you even listening?"

​Ryan’s voice brought him back to the present. Ryan was waving a hand in front of him, looking concerned and frustrated all at once.

"You didn't answer. What did Victor say?"

​Zane looked directly into Ryan’s eyes. The playful mask was gone. He leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, serious tone that made the air between them feel heavy.

​"He said it's happening regardless of what we want. So..." Zane paused, taking a deep breath.

"Will you marry me?"

​The restaurant seemed to go silent. Ryan’s eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. He had expected an argument, a plan to run away, or even a fight. But a proposal? It felt like the world had shifted off its axis.

​"WHAT?"

​The word exploded from Ryan’s lips. He stared at Zane as if the man had suddenly started speaking a foreign language. "W-What did you just say?"

​"Let me finish first," Zane said, holding up a hand to calm the storm.

"I’ll give you plenty of time to panic after I explain."

​Zane leaned back, crossing his arms. "Dad is dead serious. He thinks this wedding is the magic bridge to fix the past.

But I know you don't want this any more than I do. We’re both being backed into a corner. So, we need a solution where nobody gets hurt, but we still get our freedom."

​"What kind of solution is there for a forced marriage?" Ryan asked quietly.

​"We don’t stop them. We give them the wedding they want. We get married," Zane said. Ryan opened his mouth to shout, but Zane cut him off.

"But... with a contract."

​Ryan frowned, the gears in his head turning. "A contract? Like a business deal?"

​"Exactly. A contract wedding. We get married legally to satisfy the old men, but we sign a private agreement between just us.

This marriage won't be permanent. We do it as a favor to our parents so they can be happy. But I’m not planning to be tied to you forever, and I’m sure you feel the same."

​Zane leaned in closer. "We sign a paper saying that after one year, we get a divorce. Simple. Clean."

​The word 'divorce' hit Ryan with a strange, sharp pain he didn't expect. He should have been relieved, but instead, he felt a hollow ache in his chest. "So we just... pretend?"

​"We have to make it look real," Zane warned.

"Our parents aren't stupid. We’ll have to act like a happy couple in public and in front of them. But behind closed doors? We’re just two people sharing a roof."

​Ryan looked down at the table. It was logical. It was the only way to save their families' reputations and their own peace of mind.

"I suppose... it's a plan," Ryan admitted softly.

"I can tolerate you for a year if it means my father is happy."

​"I knew you were a good son," Zane smirked, though there was no real joy in it.

​"But I have conditions," Ryan said, his voice regaining its strength.

"If we are doing this, we do it my way."

​"Alright, Rye. What’s on your menu?"

​"First... I am not moving into your family home. If we have to live together, you come to my place, or we get our own."

​

Zane rolled his eyes. "Usually, the wife moves to the husband’s house."

​"I am NOT moving to your house!"

Ryan snapped. The moment the words left his mouth, he realized how they sounded. His face turned a deep, burning crimson.

​Zane bit his lip, his eyes dancing with mischief. "It’s okay, wifey. If you want privacy that badly, we’ll get a separate apartment. Just us." He ended the sentence with a slow, deliberate wink.

​"Stop it," Ryan hissed. "Second condition: No more flirting. Lose the attitude."

​

"Fine, fine. Relax. What else?"

​"When we live together, you don't interfere in my life. You stay in your room; I stay in mine. No rights, no demands."

​"Agreed," Zane said easily.

​

"And lastly..." Ryan pointed a trembling finger at him. "Don’t you dare touch me. If you think this is a chance. Stay away from me."

​Zane’s laughter was sudden and a bit too loud.

"Touch you? What makes you think I want to touch you? Who knows, Ryan, you might be the one who tries to kiss me first, like before 😉"

​Ryan’s jaw tightened. The memories of a younger, happier time tried to surface memories of touches that didn't need a contract.

He pushed them down with all his might. "That Ryan died a long time ago," he said coldly, standing up. "Tell your father I agreed"

​Ryan turned and walked toward the exit, his back straight and stiff. He didn't want Zane to see the way his eyes were blurring with tears.

He pushed through the glass doors and into the cold air, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

​Inside, Zane watched him go through the window. The laughter was gone from his face.

"You’re the one who burned everything down before it could even bloom, Rye," Zane whispered to the empty chair.

"You’re the one who walked away first. So why are you the one crying now?"

​Zane reached up and wiped a stray tear of his own, wondering if one year in the same house would be enough to heal them or if it would finally finish them off for good.

.

.

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To be continued..