Claire's POV
I'm seated in front of Mr. Smi.. I mean Louis. Calling him Louis out loud was quite strange. I couldn't properly manage it.
"Please, Sit," Louis said. Motioning for me to sit, as he himself lowers to his executive seat behind the desk.
It wasn't a command barked with authority, just a calm directive.
I lowered myself into the chair opposite his desk anyway.
He dropped the documents on the desk with a soft thud.
"The contract has been finalized, all that's left is to review," he said, "Here are the documents to sign, you just need to go over the clauses and sign," he directs, "and this will be official."
The folder was already open, the pages slightly skewed as if he'd looked through them one last time before calling me in.
Just ink and paper.
Just a contract. But one that held so much more.
My eyes skimmed the bold heading, and my stomach tightened.
CONTRACTUAL MARRIAGE AGREEMENT
So this was it. I'm officially doing this.
"This outlines everything we discussed," Louis said evenly. "The duration, the clauses we went over and also legal protection on both sides."
Both sides.
I swallowed.
He slid the document closer to me, "Go through them carefully. When you're ready, sign here." He pointed to the last page, the space already marked.
I didn't touch the papers.
Not immediately.
Because suddenly, my mind wasn't in this sleek office anymore. It was back home, my mother's voice drifting from the kitchen, my grandmother seated by the window, always observant, always asking the kinds of questions that saw straight through me.
'So when exactly are you moving out?'
'Why so sudden?'
'You didn't say you were seeing anyone.'
I hadn't even wrapped my own head around it yet, and now I'd have to explain why I wouldn't be living with them anymore. Why I'd be moving into a man's house. A man I barely knew. A man who was now sitting across from me, watching quietly as doubt crept in.
And worse—
It wasn't even temporary.
Indefinite.
The word echoed again, uninvited.
I'd better find an excuse as to why I'd be living. If they know that I'm doing this all for the mortgage payment, they would never agree.
I let out a drop of breath I didn't even realize I was holding, finally picked up the papers.
The first page was dense with legal language, my eyes gliding over clauses about public appearances, shared residence, confidentiality. It all felt unreal.
Clause after clause.
No emotional involvement required.
No obligation beyond the terms.
Mutual consent to terminate when applicable.
When applicable.
My fingers tightened around the pages.
I flipped to the second sheet.
There it was again. The line I hadn't been able to stop thinking about since he mentioned it.
The agreement shall remain in effect until both parties mutually decide to dissolve it.
No timeline. No expiration date.
I exhaled slowly through my nose.
"What happens," I asked quietly, "if one of us wants out… and the other doesn't?"
Louis didn't answer immediately.
He leaned back in his chair instead, studying me with that unreadable expression his face composed, but something else beneath it.
"Then we talk," he said. "Like adults. Nothing here traps you, Claire."
It didn't feel that simple.
I nodded anyway and turned to the last page.
Signature line.
My name printed neatly beneath it.
The pen lay waiting on the desk, positioned just so, as if this moment had been anticipated long before I ever walked into his office.
I thought of my mother again. My grandmother. The house that had always been my safety net. The mortgage.
I thought of how quickly my life had tilted off its axis.
And I thought of Louis, of the way he'd looked at me earlier, of the quiet insistence behind this arrangement, of how calm he was while I felt like I was spiraling.
My fingers hovered over the pen.
"This changes everything," I said, more to myself than to him.
"Yes," Louis replied softly. "It does."
I met his gaze.
I proceeded to sign and it felt like I'd just signed a contract with the devil himself.
He retrieved the contract from my hands from across his desk. His hands quietly brushing against mine, I pulled away immediately, almost like I'd been burned.
I met his gaze and he seemed also equally affected.
He slid my copy of the contract across the desk toward me, careful not to make contact.
"That would be all then, tomorrow I'll be expecting to see you move into my home." he said, " A driver would be sent to your residence to help you with any luggage you'll be bringing along. You don't have to take so much though, everything has been prepared for you at my place."
I stared at him, trying to process everything he had just said. 'Prepared for me?'
"Alright, thank you Mr. Smi…" his eyes narrow in immediate discontent, "I mean Louis" I quickly add.
I rise to my feet, clutching my own copy of the contract tightly, "Then… I'll see you tomorrow."
"You will," Louis replies, already reaching for the folder on his desk, as though dismissing both the conversation and me in one smooth motion. "Get some rest tonight. It'll be a long day."
I turn toward the door, my steps measured, careful. I don't allow myself to look back.