Chapter 9

Adrian's POV

Connie sat in the passenger seat with her seat belt fastened, both hands folded neatly in her lap. She turned to look at me, that same smile from earlier still on her face — polite, mild, the kind of expression nobody could find fault with.

But there was something painfully forced about it.

From the moment we walked in until the moment we left, she'd worn that exact same expression. Even when Eleanor pushed those things across the table at her. Even when she was hurting badly enough that she could barely keep it together. She'd kept smiling, as though being obedient enough meant she would never inconvenience anybody.

I watched her for a while before starting the car again.

We hadn't gone far when an ice cream shop on the corner caught my eye. I pulled over.

"Give me a second."

Connie looked at me, puzzled. I got out, went inside, and bought two ice cream bars. By the time I came back out, one of them had already started melting at the edges. I hurried back to the car and handed it to her.

She looked down at the ice cream in her hand, visibly surprised. "For me?"

"Yeah."

I peeled the wrapper back a little to make it easier for her to hold.

"Something sweet. It helps."

She lifted her eyes to me. There was disbelief in them, along with a hint of caution. The way she looked at that moment reminded me of a kid who'd never been shown much kindness, suddenly being handed a piece of candy. It wasn't quite happiness. More like she couldn't believe it was really happening.

Something complicated stirred inside me.

I'd thought it was rather shabby of me to use a contract to get her to marry me. But after seeing her family, I'd started regretting that the contract only gave us three months.

It should have been three years.

I leaned back against the seat and put those thoughts aside. When I spoke again, I kept my tone even.

"Besides, there's nobody else here."

Her fingers shifted slightly around the ice cream bar.

"You don't have to smile if you don't want to." I looked at her and spoke slowly. "You don't have to keep it together in front of me."

Then, worried I'd made her uncomfortable, I thought better of it and added, "What I mean is, this is a marriage on paper. At the end of the day, we're partners in this arrangement. We're equals. So you don't have to feel pressured around me."

The car fell quiet for a few seconds.

Connie lowered her head and took a small bite. A little ice cream smeared the corner of her mouth. She flicked her tongue out to lick it away.

I had no idea what was going through her mind, but then she lifted her head and smiled at me.

This time, it was finally a real smile. Nothing like the one she'd been wearing earlier.

"Thank you, Adrian."

Watching her finally smile, I felt my own mood lift considerably.

At least she was willing to relax a little around me.

I picked up my phone, opened X, and fired off a post without giving it much thought. The moment I left the app, my phone started buzzing with notifications, one after another.

All WhatsApp messages.

I opened the app. There were more than ninety unread messages in the family group.

I paused before tapping into the conversation.

At the top was a screenshot my younger sister, Lily, had sent — my wedding photo, along with the post I'd just published. She'd gone out of her way to circle the word "Married." in the caption, followed by a string of shocked emojis.

Then came the messages, one after another.

[Grandpa: Married? How could Adrian be married? Doesn't he keep women at arm's length?]

[Mom: Was your account hacked? @Adrian]

[Dad: I think it's fake. Since when does he just up and get married?]

[Mom: Adrian. You'd better explain this.]

[Aunt: The girl in the picture is beautiful!]

[Uncle: How long have you two known each other?]

[Aunt: When's the wedding? Should the family start getting ready?]

[Dad: I have reasonable grounds to suspect he conned some girl into marrying him.]

[Sister: Bro, don't tell me you went behind everyone's backs and pulled something to get her to marry you.]

I skimmed through the messages, one eyebrow lifting slightly. More messages kept pouring in.

[Dad: Speaking of which, shouldn't we get her a gift when we meet? What do girls like?]

[Mom: How about jewelry? Or a custom-made set?]

[Sister: I think somebody should just ask her what she likes.]

[Aunt: When are you bringing your wife to meet us?]

I stared at the screen for a moment without saying anything.

The conversation had already moved on from who Connie was to how many children we'd have, what we'd name them, and which preschool they'd attend — as if they'd already mapped out the next several decades of my life for me.

I shook my head, smiling despite myself, when a private message from Grandpa popped up.

I opened it.

More than ninety unread messages. Nearly every one was about my new wife.

[What's her name?]

[Where does she live?]

[Who else is in her family?]

[How old is she?]

[What does she do?]

[When did you two meet?]

[When did you get married?]

[When are you planning the wedding?]

[Where will you live afterward?]

[What kind of gift would she like? Jewelry or art? Or a house, a car?]

[When are you bringing her home for dinner?]

A few voice messages were mixed in. I didn't bother opening them.

I scrolled back to the top, then leaned back and typed a single line, taking my time.

[Adrian: Fine. I'll ask her.]

My message had barely gone through before Grandpa replied.

[Grandpa: Ask her, ask her!]

I put my phone away and turned to Connie.

She was bent over her ice cream, and she seemed a little more at ease now.

"Connie."

"Hm?"

"There's something I want to ask you."

She stopped eating and turned toward me. "What is it?"

"Would you come home with me? Meet my family?"

She froze for a moment, her eyes widening slightly.

Afraid she'd say no, I was already trying to think of something else to say. But she nodded without hesitation.

"Of course. I should meet them anyway."

Should, she said. She should meet them anyway.

A warmth spread through my chest before I could stop it.

But then I remembered the enthusiasm in the family group chat, and I couldn't help adding a warning.

"The thing is... there are a lot of us. And they can be... a little overwhelming."

She blinked, then nodded seriously.

"Okay. That's fine."

As if another thought had just occurred to her, she lowered her ice cream slightly and asked, "Do they... know? About us?"

"They know."

I paused, then added, "They're all waiting to meet you now."

Connie looked a little taken aback.

I didn't tell her that some of them had already started discussing preschools for our future children.

And I certainly didn't tell her that Grandpa had just sent another message.

[Grandpa: Remember to ask when she's free. I'll have the kitchen prepare something she likes.]

I smiled and typed out a list of dishes for Grandpa.

If her tastes hadn't changed, I was pretty sure I still remembered all her favorite foods.