Contract Marriage: I Will Never Love You Chapter 58: Friday Night

Back then continues...

Matthew

I spend the next three days in a fog. At work, I avoid Sarah as much as possible, burying myself in projects, taking lunch at odd hours. But I can feel her watching , waiting for my answer.

Wednesday night, I find myself parked outside Amanda’s apartnt building. I’ve been sitting here for twenty minutes, rehearsing what to say, wondering if she’ll even open the door.

My phone buzzes. Sarah again: Have you thought about Friday?

I ignore it, pocketing my phone and finally gathering the courage to get out of the car. The walk to Amanda’s door feels like crossing a minefield.

I knock. Wait. Knock again.

The door opens, and there she is. Her hair is pulled back in a ssy bun, eyes tired. She’s wearing an old sweatshirt I recognize—one I’d given her last Christmas.

"Matthew." Her voice is flat. Not angry, not sad. Just empty.

"Can we talk?" I ask, my voice rougher than I intended.

She hesitates, then steps back, allowing inside.

I swallow hard. "Amanda, about what happened—"

"Don’t." She holds up a hand. "I don’t want to hear it."

"But you need to," I insist.

She exhales through her nose, staring at like I’m sothing she’s already decided to walk away from. "What do I need to hear? That you slept with Sarah? That you got drunk and sohow ended up in bed with her?" She shakes her head. "I know what happened. I just don’t care anymore."

Her words hit harder than I expected.

"You do care," I say, stepping closer. "Otherwise, you wouldn’t be looking at like that."

She scoffs, running a hand down her face. "God, Matthew, you still don’t get it." She turns away, pacing toward the kitchen before spinning back around. "You don’t fix betrayal with explanations. You don’t undo what you did with so heartfelt apology."

I clench my jaw. "I didn’t betray you."

Amanda lets out a dry laugh. "Oh, right. You just accidentally fell into her bed. Silly ."

I scrub a hand through my hair, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I was drunk, Amanda. She—" I stop myself. I know how this sounds. Like I’m making excuses. Like I’m putting the bla on Sarah when I was the one who let it happen.

She studies , then shakes her head again. "You know, I spent days—days—trying to figure out if I was angrier at you or at myself."

I frown. "At yourself?"

"For trusting you," she says, voice breaking just slightly. "For thinking we were different. That you were different."

Guilt knots in my stomach.

"Amanda, I—"

She holds up a hand again, cutting off. "Whatever you ca here hoping for, Matthew... it’s not happening. We’re done. We’ve been done."

Pain grips my chest like a vice, but I can’t say I didn’t see this coming.

She exhales, softer now. "Please, just let move on."

I stare at her for a long mont, hoping—praying—that she’ll change her mind. That she’ll take it back.

She doesn’t.

Finally, I nod. "Okay."

I turn to leave, every step heavier than the last. When I reach the door, I pause, glancing back one last ti.

She’s already looking away. Like I’m nothing more than a mory she’s trying to forget.

I step outside, closing the door behind , and just stand there in the hallway. Empty.

My phone buzzes again.

Sarah: See you Friday.

I grip my phone so tightly my knuckles turn white.

It’s not like I expected Amanda to take back—I knew the damage was too deep. But hearing it, seeing it in her eyes... it fucking hurts.

I inhale sharply, forcing my feet to move. Down the hall, down the stairs, out into the cold night air. My hands shake as I unlock my car, slipping inside and gripping the steering wheel.

For a mont, I just sit there.

Then, before I can stop myself, I type out a reply.

: Fine.

I hit send.

I don’t know if I’m making a deal with the devil or just accepting the inevitable. But either way, on Friday, I’ll be by Sarah’s side.

Fuck it.

I will indulge Sarah this Friday, and then I will be looking for another job.

Friday will be the end of it.

That’s what I tell myself as I drive ho, gripping the wheel like it’s the only thing keeping together.

By Monday, I’ll have a resignation letter drafted.

New job, new start.

~-~

Friday cos too quickly.

I stand in front of my bathroom mirror, adjusting my tie for the third ti. Sarah had texted the details yesterday: dinner at Luciano’s."

I check my watch. Seven fifteen. I should have left five minutes ago.

Part of still wants to bail, to text Sarah that I can’t do this after all. But I am the man of my word. I said, I will show up, so I will do just that.

I need this job. At least for now.

My phone buzzes with a text from Sarah: "Can’t wait to see you. ❤️"

I don’t respond. Instead, I grab my keys and wallet, forcing myself out the door before I can change my mind.

Luciano’s is packed when I arrive. Through the window, I can see Sarah already seated at a table near the back, wearing a dark blue dress that clings to her curves. She looks up as if sensing , her face brightening with a smile.

I take a deep breath and push open the door.

"Matthew," she says as I approach, rising slightly to kiss my cheek. Her perfu is expensive, overwhelming. "You look handso."

"Thanks," I manage, sliding into the seat across from her. "You look nice."

She beams like I’ve just handed her the moon. "I ordered us wine. I hope that’s okay."

I nod, scanning the restaurant. "Is your father coming?"

"Maybe later," she says, reaching across the table to touch my hand. I resist the urge to pull away. "But let’s not worry about that. Tonight is about us."

There is no "us," I want to say. But I don’t. Instead, I force a smile and pick up the nu.

"Have you been here before?" she asks, her fingers still resting lightly on my wrist.

"Once," I reply. "With Amanda."

Sarah’s smile falters for just a second before she recovers. "Well, I’m sure you’ll find tonight’s experience much more enjoyable."

I doubt it, but I keep that thought to myself.

The waiter arrives with our wine, a bottle that costs more than I’d usually spend on dinner for two.

"So," she says once the waiter leaves, leaning forward slightly. "Tell sothing I don’t know about you, Matthew."

I take a long sip of wine. "I’m actively looking for another job."

Her smile freezes. "That’s not funny."

I grin despite my black mood. "I am not joking."

Sarah pouts and I have to admit, she kind of looks cute when she does that.

She swirls her wine, eyes narrowing slightly. "I don’t see why you’d want to leave. You’ve got a good thing going."

I raise an eyebrow. "Do I?"

Her pout deepens. "Of course you do. You’re talented, respected...and you have ."

That last part makes my stomach twist. I set my glass down, studying her. "Sarah, what exactly do you want from ?"

She blinks, tilting her head as if the question surprises her. "What do you an?"

"I an this." I gesture between us. "What’s the endga here? Because I’m not interested in whatever fantasy you’ve cooked up."

Her lips press together, and for the first ti tonight, she looks genuinely irritated. "Matthew, don’t be so dramatic."

I exhale sharply. "Just be honest with , Sarah."

She leans back, her fingers tracing the rim of her wine glass. "Fine," she says after a pause. "I might be little in love with you."

I laugh out loud at that. "That’s ridiculous."

Her big green eyes widen. "I am serious! Have you ever heard of love at first sight?"

I waive my hand in dismissal. "It’s not a real thing."

"It’s not," I protest.

"It is too!" she counters.

I shake my head, letting out a dry chuckle. "Sarah, you don’t love . You don’t even know ."

She tilts her head, lips curling into a slow smile. "I know enough."

I take another sip of wine, forcing myself to stay calm. "You are young and foolish."

Sarah leans forward, resting her elbows on the table. "You’re scared."

I snort. "Of what?"

"Of feeling sothing for ."

I shake my head, laughing under my breath. "Sarah, this isn’t a romance novel. You’re not going to fix , and I’m not going to suddenly realize you’re the love of my life."

"It will happen. I don’t get why you are so hung up on Amanda. She is so...stuck up. And boring," Sarah declares.

I let out a small chuckle. "Sarah, you really have a way of convincing yourself, don’t you?"

She shrugs with a grin. "What can I say? I know what I want."

I lean back in my chair, raising an eyebrow. "And what exactly is that?"

She tilts her head, her eyes sparkling with that confident energy. "You, obviously."

I stare at her across the table, torn between irritation and a grudging admiration for her sheer audacity. There’s sothing almost hypnotic about her confidence—the way she declares she wants with such unwavering certainty, as if the universe has already agreed to her demands and is simply waiting for to catch up.

"You’re unbelievable," I mutter, shaking my head.