A Contract for Love
Sophie sat at an oversize kitchen table absolutely covered in wedding magazines. She was flipping through the pages, letting her fingers linger on every lace detail, every delicate bead, every ethereal veil. Her eyes lit up at the sight of gowns with intricate embroidery, of dresses cut from the softest silk. The photographs whisked her away: in her mind, shed be the one floating down the aisle in all that splendor, everyones gaze fixed solely on her.
Thats lovely, she murmured dreamily, staring at a particularly striking dressballgown skirt, satin ribbon straps, almost shimmering under those studio lights. It was the stuff of fairy tales.
But almost instantly her smile faded. Sophie laid the magazine aside with a long sigh and stood up slowly. She wandered across to the big, ornate mirror propped up against the wall. She sized up her own reflection, turning this way and that, tilting her head, tryingjust for a secondto see herself from a strangers eyes. Somewhere in the back of her mind a voice whispered: reality, she suspected, was never going to quite match the fantasy displayed in those glossy magazines.
Its a pity, she said, this time with a trace of steel. That sort of thing would never suit me. My figure isnt quite right.
She twirled in front of the mirror once more, trying to picture herself dressed in a voluminous skirt and fitted bodice, layer after layer of fabric swishing around her hips. Instantly, she winced.
No, I need something simpler, she said, as if discussing it with an invisible friend. Big skirts are out. Theres no need to look like a puffed-up meringue. But then, I dont want to look completely ordinary either! It’s my wedding, after all. Its not something you do every year.
Her fingers raked through her hair as a ripple of panic crept in. There were so many options, so many gorgeous ideasbut none that felt exactly right. She glanced over the scatter of magazines on the kitchen table, hoping the next page might trigger a flash of inspiration. Instead, all she felt was the worn-out fatigue of indecision.
I really do need to talk this over with someone, she mumbled, sinking down onto the edge of her chair. Otherwise, Ill go completely mad before the wedding
The slap of a door broke the quiet. Sophie jumped. Her gaze jerked to the messy stack of sketches and magazine tear-outs. Who on earth could that be? Only two people had keys to the house: her Dad, and Oliverher fiancé. But Dad was supposed to be at an important meeting this afternoon, and Oliver had said hed got a work thing, some big team catch-up hed been grumbling about since breakfast.
Sophie froze, listening hard. In her mind, the worst-case scenarios spun out at top speedwhat if it was a break-in? She was usually at her salon at this hour, the house always empty
Every movement felt quiet as she crept to the stairs leading down to the hallway. The living room upstairs had a perfect view over the entryway. She pressed herself to the plaster wall and peeped over the balustrade.
Relief flooded her entire body when she saw Oliver. There he was, wrestling his shoes off at the doorway, humming something tuneless. It was, unmistakably, him.
Oliver? she whispered in confusion. Whats he doing home?
She stayed put, observing. Maybe it was a surpriseor was he on the phone? She strained to pick up his words.
Hang on, darling, Olivers voice got softeralmost sweet, which wasnt how he spoke to Sophie, ever. Ill do my part soon, and then well be together. Just a bit longer.
Sophie felt as if cold water had been dumped on her. She squeezed her hands so hard her knuckles turned white. A contract? Who was darling?
How long? Six months exactly, Oliver went on, slick and efficient. Yes, the weddings next month, then a few months of married lifethen its all over. His words twisted, as if the idea of it made his skin crawl.
She shut her eyes, trying to take it in. Their wedding was simply a part of some kind of arrangement? She listened on, breathless, wanting to hear every word. What did her Dad have to do with this? Oliver got comfortable in a chair, none the wiser that Sophie was only a few steps above, listening to everything.
Dont get upset, will you? he carried on, swinging his legs up onto the coffee table. You know Im doing this for you. Honestly, Id never have got tangled up unless you pushed me. Wouldnt you love to live in a big flat right in the city centre? Buy nice clothes, jewellery? How long would we have to wait for all that, if I stuck at my measly job? Six months, thats all. Promise.
Sophie heard her own shaky voice slip out, cutting through the tension as she started down the stairs, feeling the weight of every step, as if she was battling through jelly. She was determined not to collapse, no matter how badly her knees shook.
Youll be together much sooner, she announced, the words acid and steel. Oliver snapped round. Panic surged through his facehe fumbled, and his phone clattered to the floor.
Soph? Love, what are you talking about?
He stepped towards her, stretching out a hand as if to comfort her. But Sophie stepped back, chin lifted, icy clear in her pain.
Do you really take me for a complete idiot? She said the wordlovelike it was poison. Think Im deaf so I cant hear you cooing over someone else?
He blanched, scrabbling to pick up his dropped phone. For a second, he looked just like a trapped animal, calculating his next move.
Youre imagining things, he attempted, voice forced calm. Whos darling? I dont even know what youre what do you mean?
He tried again to grab her hand, but she recoiled instantly, full of resolve.
You know exactly. I heard it all. I heard every sick little word you said. Even as her voice wobbled, Sophie glued her mask together. No way was she going to let him see how deeply the betrayal hurt. All her hopes, all those warm memoriescrushed underfoot by this rotten deception.
Oliver fell silent. He knew hed been caught, but owning up was too much for himhe still hoped, against all reason, to wriggle his way out.
There wont be a wedding. Sophies voice was fatal, unflinching. Oliver went paler. But before you leave my house, youll tell me the truth. All of it. No stories, no weaselling out.
She crossed her arms defensively, bracing herself. No tears in her eyesonly a determination to hear the whole, ugly truth.
The truth? he spat, with a sarcastic laugh, dropping his caring act. You want the truth? Fine. Id never have looked at you if your Dad hadnt offered me a fat deal. Dinner dates, stupid compliments, pretending to fancy youI get an easy job and a hefty payout for playing the loving fiancé. Basically, I get paid twice over.
His voice was completely cold, like he was discussing the weather. But each word felt like a punch to the gut.
So it was all for money? she whispered, freezing inside. She made herself meet his eyes.
He let out a mean laugh. What, did you think I could actually fall for you? Have you poked your head in a mirror lately? Go do that.
It was savage, the nastiest thing hed ever said to her. Sophie dug her nails into her palms rather than let him see her break. For a few seconds, she said nothing, running over every momenttheir chats, their dates, everythingrealising now it had all been an act.
Get out. Her voice didnt crack at all, even if her insides were chaos. Ill have your things sent round. Now leave.
Oliver shot her one last cold looklong and deliberate, as if committing the moment to memory. He shrugged into his coat, excruciatingly slow, his face ice-cold. He clicked the lock shut behind him, and then she was left standing in a silence so thick it hurt.
Outside, as the door banged, Oliver was already in damage-limitation mode. How was he going to explain this mess to Mr. Rowan? Sophies Dad was not a man to take things lightly, and Oliver could already imagine the storm that was coming if Mr. Rowan decided to make good on his threats. But there was the money in his account, a tidy sum in pounds. Let them try to take it back now.
At least it wasnt a total waste of time, he muttered, stalking down the garden path. Ive earned itthats what matters.
Back inside, Sophies hands were shaking so hard she almost dropped her phone as she rang her Dad. She called and called, and finally he picked up.
Dad! How could you? How could you do this to me? she cried out before he could say a word.
She didnt let him get a word in edgeways. Everything tumbled outrage, disappointment, the sting of betrayal.
You set the whole thing up! You paid him, you handed him a script, you decided you knew what was best for me. You didnt ask me what I wanted! You thought you could make these choices for me.
She didnt even realise she was yelling. The words just kept coming, all the anger and frustration that had built up over the last months.
Dont you evereverget involved in my life again, do you hear me? She stabbed the button to end the call, flung her phone onto the sofa, and burst into tears.
It wasnt just Oliver, or her Dad. Sophies tears were a lifetime of feeling less-than, never enough. Shed always felt second-rate about her lookslike she never measured up. Shed catch herself sighing at the mirror, pinching her waist, wishing she was like the women in those glossy pictures. If only my hips were smaller If only my face looked more like Mums
Shed even, once or twice, thought about surgery. But she always stopped as soon as she thought of her own Mum.
Her Mum, Angelawho always insisted on the full, elegant Angela even in the silliest momentshad once been breathtakingly beautiful. In the old photos, she had a heart-stopping smile, a mass of hair and a poise that made everyone take notice.
It all changed the day Angela trusted a brilliant specialist to tweak her noseonly a little, barely anything at all. But he botched it completely. Her face, and her confidence, suffered. She tried and trieddifferent doctors, more surgeries. Each time, hoping the old Angela would return, and each time, it got a little worse.
Eventually, Angela locked herself away. The spark went out of her eyes, and eventually, she left without even goodbyesjust a hurried note to Sophies Dad: I cant do it anymore. Im sorry.
Sophie had been left to grow up with a memory. The Mum in her head was kind, vibrant, everything she wished she could be. But as she got older, she realised she just didnt, couldnt, measure up. Mum had cheekbones, Ive just got apple cheeks; Her hair was glossy, but mine just goes frizzy. She would dissect her appearance, convinced she wasnt even nice. No matter what anyone said, she felt she was just the faint shadow of that dazzling old Angela.
The self-doubt held her back everywhereat school, always at the edges; university, never wanting to stand up in front of people. Boys hardly ever saw her, and if they did, never for long. She was sure her looks were the reason.
If I were prettier, itd be different, shed tell herself, ignoring the truth: it was really her doubt and fear that pushed everyone away.
And then Oliver appeared. He burst into her life like a sunbeam, looking at her as though she was the only woman in the world. He noticed thingsa laugh, a smile, a story. He brought flowers, took her out, remembered tiny details about her. For the first time in ages, Sophie had felt enoughpretty enough, worthy enough, perhaps even loved. She bloomed under his attention, daring to believe she might actually deserve happiness.
Now, that was shattered. Everything had been fake, a performance, a deal brokered by her own father.
**************************
A few months later, Sophie stood in a bridal boutique, gazing at herself in the mirror. The dress shed chosen hugged her curves, falling away at the hips with soft folds, lace sleeves catching the light just so. She wasnt searching out her flaws, not today. Today, what she actually felt was calmnot euphoria, not nerves, but a quiet, adult certainty.
An hour after, she was walking down the aisle. Chin high, shoulders back, her walk calm and measurednot dreamy like most brides, but thoughtful. People watchedsome smiled at her beauty, some whispered, probably curious as to why this bride didnt seem giddy with joy.
As she made her way towards the groom, she thought back to that important talk with her Dad after Oliver had gone.
Dad, Ive decided to accept Adams proposal, shed said, looking him straight in the eye at the breakfast table.
Her Dad had gone still, teacup halfway to his lips. Are you sure, darling? Its a big decision.
Im sure, shed said, entirely certain. Im tired of holding out for some wild, perfect love that might never show up. I want stability, respectsomething solid. Adam can give me that.
But what about love? her Dad had started, but Sophie cut in.
Love is lovely, she admitted. But I cant just wait for magic for the rest of my life. I want to build my own happiness now.
Those were the words still resonating as she met Adam at the end of the aisle. He looked a bit nervous, but there was kindness and respect in his eyesmore valuable than fireworks, she now felt.
When the registrar began the vows, Sophie realised: she didnt regret anything. Her story wouldnt be a whirlwind fairy tale, but it would be hersa choice she was making with eyes wide open.
Maybe Adam and I will never have some all-consuming love, she thought, glancing his way. But hell always respect me. And who knows maybe love grows quietly, from solid ground.
She smiled at himnot for the camera, but for real. For the first time in ages, she felt sure she was doing the right thing. Not every love story has to start with a bangsometimes, it starts with a steady foundation. And thats where you build something real.
