Wildfire

LEONARD:

Sitting in my vast living room, I tried to maintain a firm posture in front of Erica, who refused to sit, or even head to her room.

I had hoped she would. Dash upstairs and give me space to unpack what just happened outside. But she stood there—still, quiet, expectant. As if waiting for an explanation.

I had none.

I still didn’t understand what had happened. Was it her discomfort? Was it her eyes—something new in them, or was it her lips?

Maybe it was everything, all at once, that made me suddenly want to protect her.

And shît! Of all the things I could’ve done… I kissed her?

“Where should I go?” Her voice called me out of my spiral.

Where should she go? Her room, obviously.

Actually, Erica hated being here. She had moved in by force—her father’s command, because she always found excuses to dodge our arranged dates. Her deal was to stay out of my way as much as possible. Not like I cared. But her father, his wife, and my mother had insisted. So, she moved in.

Worst day of my life.

Except today, it didn’t feel that way. I wanted her to run into her room.

“You have a room,” I said.

Still, she didn’t move. Her eyes roamed the space like she was confused, unsettled—maybe as shaken by the kiss as I was.

“Upstairs,” I added. “Last door on the right.”

I had given her the smallest room in my house. Since she wasn’t able to fight her parents against moving in with me, I must also appear perfect and welcoming. But put her in a room that wouldn’t even contain a cat.

She went up the stairs. I followed. Not after her, just in the same direction, heading to my room. But I trailed behind her until she stopped at her door, then turned to watch me enter mine.

The next morning, I left the house before her, like always.

From my office, I kept checking the time. Watching. Waiting. I never used to care when Erica arrived at work or if she even showed up. But this time, I peeped through the blinds, searching for her.

Two hours passed. Most of the staff were already in.

Then, she came in. And oddly enough, my shoulders relaxed.

I had imagined every possibility: her not coming in, being too embarrassed to face me, deciding to stay home. That would have been a great decision. For her. For me.

But why was I relieved to see her? Why did I only begin my real work the moment she arrived?

“Mr. Hays?”

Her voice broke into my thoughts. I didn’t have to look up to know it was her.

Only, it was different. Angrier than the voice that defended her friend at Panila. Harsher than the sound I heard yesterday during the drive home, when she was scolding me for dragging her away like some war prize. Colder than the tone that asked where she would go in my living room.

Funny how I could tell the difference, just by the way she said my name. Maybe she was being professional, keeping home drama separate from work.

“You should apologise for kissing me,” she said.

Oh, I was wrong.

I looked up.

And there she was, back to the lifeless Erica. Poised. Fearless. The same confidence she shows around her colleagues…turned on me.

“Why?” I asked. “Why should I apologise for kissing my bride?”

“Mr. Hays,” she said through clenched teeth, “do you want to talk about cancelling the wedding or abusing me in front of everyone?!”

I scoffed.

Abuse?

This, coming from the girl who kissed me back, eyes closed. I’d seen the footage. I’d done nothing but replay it before she arrived. She kissed me back with more passion than I gave.

“Postponed,” I replied, standing up and walking around to face her. “I only postponed the wedding, Erica. And as for the abuse, do you need an attorney?”

“What?!”

If emotions were wildfire, then what I was feeling was a tornado. Just yesterday, I softened at her presence. She’d brought out something in me I didn’t know I had—patience to hear her rant in my car, urge to protect her from reporters, absurd desire to kiss her… and even regret for giving her that cramped little room.

But now?

The Erica in front of me was the one I never wanted to marry. The one whose smile I wanted to erase.

“Leave,” I said, turning to my seat. “I have work to do.”

“I want a call off!”

I didn’t move. I knew what she meant.

Calling off the wedding would mean the end of all this madness. A clean exit. Freedom. But something about what happened yesterday—it hinted at something else. Emotions I couldn’t define, yet couldn’t ignore.

“You can do it yourself,” she added. “Say I cheated. I am a gold digger. Publish anything you want. Just break it off.”

If I agreed, this curiosity, this growing pull, would end. If I refused, it would mean I wanted this marriage. Or worse, that I might even care.

Erica knew I didn’t feel anything for her. But she never understood why I agreed to marry her. I had access to any woman I wanted. And yet, I chose her. A woman I barely touched.

“Three months,” she continued. “Postpone the wedding for three months. And by then, call it off.”

“Why should I do as you say?”

“Because neither of us wants this marriage,” she replied, voice determined. “I’m not sure why you came to Panila… for me. But you have nothing to gain. And I am done playing the obedient girl.”

“And my loss?”

Her brows knitted. “What could that be? Me? I am sure you aren’t a clown, Mr. Hays.”

Something twisted in my chest. Not just because of her defiance, but because she found the courage to fight. Now. Fight after we kissed? Was the kiss that meaningless to her? Or were her feelings for Nathan stronger?

“This is about Nathan, isn’t it?”

“Partly,” she said, steady and clear. “But this is more about me. About me not wanting to marry you.”

Then she added, without blinking, “Get yourself another woman. Or tell me to find one for you, if you can’t.”

Repulsion flickered across my face. The nerve.

“I see you can,” she said, ignoring my reaction. “Then stay away from me henceforth.”

She was already at the door when I asked, “Does that include your moving out?”

I couldn’t believe I was worried about that…about not seeing her at home, when she’d just called me a doormat who can’t get himself a woman.

“I wish I could,” she muttered. “But let’s cohabit for a few more months.”

And strangely, hearing that made my repulsion… vanish.