"We need to set some rules."  Adrian's voice sounded coldly professional as he put a heavy folder on the table in the dining room.

It had been three days since Isabella's call, and he'd barely spoken to me beyond basic pleasantries, passing salt, asking about coffee, the kind of stilted exchanges you'd have with a stranger in an elevator. The silence between us had grown so heavy I could feel it pressing against my lungs.

I looked up from my breakfast, which I hadn't eaten yet.  "Rules?" 

"This plan needs some structure to work."  He sat across from me, looking like a businessman.  "I had my lawyer write up a contract." 

"An agreement for what?" 

"Marriage."  He opened the folder and revealed pages of legal papers.  "Duration, expectations, and money matters. Everything is clearly defined."

I looked at the papers, and my hunger went away.  "You want me to sign a deal?"

"I want us both to know what this is."  He spoke in a matter-of-fact way, but I could see that his hands were shaking a little as he sorted through the papers. 

"This isn't a real marriage, Elena. It's a deal for business that has an expiration date. "

"Expiration date?"

"Two years."  He pushed the first page toward me.  "Long enough for the scandal to blow over, but not so long that we can't both move on with our lives." 

I forced myself to read through the document, each line making my heart sink further into my stomach. Separate bedrooms. No public displays of affection beyond what was necessary for appearances. No emotional entanglements. It read like a job description for the world's loneliest position.

"This makes me sound like an employee." I whispered, my voice barely audible over the blood rushing in my ears.

"In a way, you are."  His voice was softer now, but the words still hurt.  "I'm not trying to be mean, Elena.  I'm trying to keep us both safe."

"From what?" The question came out sharper than I intended, but I was bleeding from a thousand tiny cuts and couldn't contain it anymore.

"From pretending this is something it's not."  He leaned back in his chair and looked at me.  "You're beautiful, smart, compassionate, and lovely.  You deserve someone who can love you the way you want to be loved. 

My heart stopped completely. The way he said 'beautiful'—like it physically hurt him to admit it—made my breath catch in my throat.

"And you can't?"  I couldn't stop the question from coming out. 

Adrian's face changed for a moment, showing something weak before the mask went back on. 

"No," he responded in a low voice.  "I can't."

It was somehow worse that he was being honest.  The words on the contract started to mix together as I peered down. 

"What if I don't want to sign this?" 

"Then you free to go."  He rose up and straightened his tie.  "I'll make sure you are taken care of financially. A home, a car, and enough money to start over anywhere you want. 

The offer should have been tempting. Freedom. Independence. A chance to find someone who could love me without reservation. But the thought of leaving him alone in this mausoleum of a house, drinking himself to death over Isabella's ghost, made my chest constrict with panic.

"And what if I stay?" 

"Then we follow the rules.  You keep doing your art while I take care of business.  We go to social events together, maintain the facade of being married, and then we quietly get divorced in two years."

I thought about how little my apartment was, how I worked part-time at the gallery, and how my parents had looked at me yesterday when I visited—like I was their saviour.  Then I thought about how nice it would be to wake up every morning in this lovely mansion, knowing that the man I loved was only down the hall but always out of reach. 

"I need to think," I said. 

"Of course."  He stopped at the door.  "Elena, I hope you choose to leave, but that's just my opinion. You deserve more than this"

I read the contract over and over again after he left until the words lost all significance.  Everything was really civilized and reasonable.  So very Adrian: calm, organised, and emotionally dead. 

But I saw something in the legal jargon that made my heart race.  A clause that says both parties agree to end early.  Another one was about changing the terms if things changed. 

Loopholes. Escape hatches.  Or maybe... possibilities.  

My phone on the table buzzed, which scared me.  Isabella sent a text that said, 'I am sorry for everything. I hope you can forgive me some day.'

I stared at the message until my eyesight got blurry. I felt a mix of feelings that I couldn't even begin to sort out.  My heart was like a barbed wire fence, with love, betrayal, wrath, and grief all tangled up in it. 

I didn't react and just deleted the text. 

That evening, I found Adrian in his study, the glow from his laptop casting harsh shadows across his face. He looked up when I knocked, and I saw something flicker in his eyes...hope, maybe, or fear.

"Have you decided?" he enquired in a voice that was cautious not to show any emotion. 

With shaking hands, I put the signed contract on his desk.  "I'm not going anywhere." 

Something unreadable crossed his face—relief mixed with what looked almost like regret. "Elena..."

"I know what this is," I said quickly, before he could say something that would shatter what little resolve I had left. "I know what you can and can't give me. But I'm staying anyway."

He picked up the paper and ran his fingertips over my signature as if it were something delicate and valuable.  "Why?" 

Because I love you more than my own happiness. Because I'd rather have two years of this half-life than a lifetime wondering what might have been. Because contracts can be amended, and hearts can be changed.

"Because someone needs to make sure you don't drink yourself to death," I said instead, the joke falling flat in the heavy silence.

To my surprise, he actually laughed. It was the first real laugh I had heard from him since our wedding.  It changed the whole shape of his face, making him look younger and more like the man Isabella had fallen in love with.

He laughed, which was the first real laugh I'd heard from him since the wedding.  "That's fair enough." 

He called my name as I was about to depart.  "Elena?" 

"Yes?" 

"Thanks for staying.  For... all of this."  I nodded, not trusting my voice, and went up to my room. 

The contract was signed.  The conditions were set.  I had two years to show that some things were more important than legal papers. 

Two years to get him to view me as more than just Isabella's replacement. 

Two years to rewrite our story. To change it.