Time-limited Engagement Novels & Stories

The question broke his concentration, and he looked up at me. I said, “I don’t take business calls on my cell unless it’s urgent. I don’t want you to use that number—the one you called—again.” “I’ll file it along with your no-dating clause.” A thin grin graced his lips. Unsure if he was joking, I said, “I’ll send a copy of the contract to your office. You have forty-eight hours to sign.” “Elements of Engagement,” he said and reached out to shake my hand. “I look forward to doing business with you.”

“Sorry about your job. Alright bye. Talk to you later.” If anyone had told him last week that Clara would be sitting in my penthouse, he would have burst out in laughter. He would have laughed so hard in their faces. During the three days she has been here, Aiden tried so hard to avoid her. He left for work before she woke up. By the time he got back from work, she would have retired to bed. She goes to bed early, and he knew it was due to the whole engagement announcement stress.

Zoya cuts him off angrily "Mr. Aditya Hooda, mind your language and three years ago I already proved that my Rudra was not guilty. Did you forget?" To which Aditya replies with gritted teeth "How can I forget that, three years ago, first your fiancé then you, both ruined my happiness but looks like you forgot what I told you outside the courtroom." Zoya reminisces Aditya's words 'If you meet me again then I will ruin you.' Which Aditya completes "As whatever you saw was my love but my hatred is much more Limitless than my love." Zoya was about to say when her phone rings, she attends the call and soon she starts to get pale.

I kept going, voice steady. “Fourthly, clear boundaries on the genuine time part. We can have dinners and conversations, but they stay surface level unless I choose otherwise. No pressure to share personal history or feelings. This is an arrangement. Not therapy. Not a real relationship.” I slid the final page across. “And lastly, a hard end date. Six months maximum. No extensions. When it ends, it ends cleanly. We both walk away with what we agreed on. No lingering obligations.”

"What I observe is mine unless I choose to share it. I won't be debriefed." "Agreed," Yolanda said, before Rhen could speak. "And I'd want a clearly defined limit on active session length. I have a practice constraint I manage. I won't compromise it." "We'd want to understand the constraint," Rhen said. "You don't need to understand it. You need to honor it." Another silence. Yolanda's expression did something small that I thought might have been approval.

"Okay. Let's do it. Let's commit to each other and figure out the rest as we go." "With a timeline. Six months to have a concrete plan for reducing the distance. Twelve months to have actually implemented it." "Agreed." He writes on a fresh sheet of paper: COMMITMENT: We are building a life together. Timeline: 6 months to plan, 12 months to execute. We both sign it. It's not legally binding. It's probably not even wise. But it's a promise. A real one. "Now what?" I ask. "Now we tell our therapists and let them help us figure out how to not completely fuck this up."

"It has to be a defined engagement with a clear timeline and a clear deliverable. You go, you establish the framework, you build the local team, you return. Not a division of your attention indefinitely but a specific mission with a specific end." Ayesha looked at her and thought that this was exactly the condition that the engagement required and that Priya had named it before she had been asked to, which was what the right board members did. "Three months," Ayesha said. "That's the timeline I would propose." "Three months is workable," Suki said. "I can manage the gallery operational decisions. Priya and Diana hold the major curatorial calls. We have the framework." The room was quiet agai

“I know.” There was something different in his voice. Respect. It unsettled me more than anger would have. I looked at the map again. “How long?” “Six months.” “Six months?” “We remain publicly bound for six months.” “And after that?” “We decide whether to continue.” I shook my head. “No.” Kael frowned. “You don't want six months?” “I don't want a deadline deciding my life.” “Then what do you suggest?” “We end it when either of us decides the arrangement is no longer useful.”

But he sure as hell needed more time to figure it out what the hell it meant. “See? You can’t argue with my logic.” “Don’t tempt me to argue with you, cowgirl, because you know how much I get off on it.” Keely didn’t even crack a smile. “We’re not done. Far from it. Have you forgotten I demanded a minimum of a month from you for this engagement? We’re at what…three weeks? And don’t you think it would be suspect if we broke off all contact the same week I signed off on your project? Right after we returned from Milford? You ready to deal with the explanations on that?”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” “We don’t have to be tethered to each longer than we’re required,” he explained. “In this contract, I’ve stated the time limit, a non-disclosure agreement for safety reasons and all the clauses we both need to abide by if we were to make this work without anyone discovering the truth.” I crossed my hands, leaned back in my chair and stared at him as he added, “This marriage will only be viable for a year.” “A year?” I questioned. “And what happens after a year?”