What We Pretended To Be のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 51 - チャプター 60

Maria: I get dressed for work. That part happens automatically. Same routine, same motions. I even pick out something decent, something I would not be embarrassed to be seen in, which already tells me I am not planning to stay home. Then I just… don’t leave. I stand there for a moment, bag in hand, staring at nothing in particular, and something in me quietly refuses. No dramatic reason. No sudden realization. Just a soft, stubborn no. So I drop the bag back on the chair and turn away from the door like it offended me. That is how I end up outside a few minutes later, walking toward the stable without really deciding to. The air is still, the kind that makes everything feel slower than it actually is. Even my steps feel quieter. Like I am not supposed to disturb anything. The stable sits a little away from the house, tucked into its own corner. I push the door open and step inside. It smells like hay and warm wood. Familiar already, which feels strange considering ho

Maria: My father does not waste time explaining things when he is already halfway out the door. “Be ready in twenty minutes,” he says. “We’re leaving.” “For what?” I ask, already moving toward my room because there is no point pretending I won’t go. “A celebration.” “That could mean anything.” “It doesn’t need to mean anything to you. Just be ready.” He hangs up. I stare at my phone for a second, then drop it on the bed. Of course. Whatever this is, I will understand it later, probably when it is already too late to ask questions. — The car ride is quiet, but not the comfortable kind. The kind where something is happening and I am not part of the conversation yet. “What exactly are we celebrating?” I ask after a few minutes. “A deal,” my father says. “With who?” “The Rothfields.” I turn slightly. “Daniel’s family?” “Yes.” “And this concerns us because…?” He exhales slowly, like I am dragging information out of him. “Because it changes things.” That again. “What thi

Maria: Marcus is the first to stand, like he’s been waiting for an excuse to leave. “I have things to do,” he says, already halfway out of the conversation, his attention drifting to his phone. Isabelle leans back in her chair, studying him like he’s a problem she plans to solve eventually. “Does it involve your mother?” He doesn’t look up. “No.” “That’s unfortunate,” she says, tilting her head. “I would have liked to come with you. I should probably meet my future mother-in-law at some point.” That gets a reaction. Barely. He pauses, just long enough to glance at her. “You’re very unserious.” “And yet, I’m consistent,” she replies, smiling like she’s proud of that. He shakes his head once and walks off, clearly done with all of us. Isabelle watches him go, then sighs softly. “He’s warming up to me.” “He’s not,” Lily says. “He is. You just don’t see it.” “I see everything. There’s nothing to see.” Isabelle ignores that and pushes her chair back. “I should go too. I have

Daniel: I read the same line again. Then again. The numbers are right. The projections are clean. There is nothing wrong with the document in front of me. If anything, it is one of the better reports this quarter. I close it anyway. The office is quiet. Glass walls, muted light filtering through the tall windows, everything exactly where it should be. It usually helps me think. Keeps things in order. Today, it just feels… still. The faint hum of the air conditioning fills the space, but it does nothing to ease the restlessness under my skin. My phone lights up on the desk. I glance at it, then ignore it. If it is important, it will come back. It always does. I lean back slightly and rest my hand against the arm of the chair, my eyes settling somewhere past the desk, toward the city skyline visible through the glass. And then, without effort, my mind shifts. Not to work. To her. Maria. The land comes first, but not in the way it should. Not like a project I am assessing.

Maria: For a while, we just walk. No urgency. No destination. Just the quiet stretch of sand and the steady rhythm of the waves folding into themselves and pulling back again. I hold my heels in one hand, the straps dangling between my fingers, and focus on where I’m stepping so I don’t sink too deep. The cool grains shift under my bare feet with every step. He stays beside me. Close, but not touching. It feels deliberate. Like we both understand that something already shifted and we are being careful not to rush past it. “I don’t do this,” he says after a while. I glance at him. “Do what?” “This.” He gestures vaguely, like even naming it is unnecessary. “Talking like this. Feeling… anything I can’t control.” I let out a small breath that almost turns into a smile. “That explains a lot.” He doesn’t react to that. Just keeps walking, eyes ahead. The wind carries the salty scent of the sea across the beach. “I’m not avoiding it,” he adds. “You are.” “I’m not.” “You are,” I