A letter was quickly sent to the Fairchilds’ estate. The response, a ‘yes’ that Ariel had been quick to say once her parents asked for her opinion on the matter. 

Ariel ran to her room quickly after that; she was too shy under the prying gaze of her mother. “I wonder why she was so quick to answer. Ariel has never met the Fairchilds’ boy before.” Mrs.Whitmore could not hide her confusion as she watched her daughter flee.

“The boy has a pristine reputation; not a single scandal in the press. It should count as a good thing, but that’s what scares me.” Ariel’s father said as he placed a hand on his wife’s back. “Why would he choose our daughter? Why now?”

James Whitmore’s questions weren’t unfounded. The Whitmores and the Fairchilds, although they had been close for many generations, never had the subject of marriage been raised… until now.

*

Days passed slowly for Ariel.

Ever since she found out about her engagement to Christopher Fairchild, she had been restless. That afternoon, she sat with her best friend, Melody, at a quaint coffee shop on the streets of Ravelle. 

“When do you think your prince charming will appear? Your engagement ceremony is literally around the corner.” Melody said as she took little sips from her boba tea, her eyes trained on Ariel’s face.

“He did send a note along with some roses,” Ariel replied, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “He apologized for his absence, said work has kept him away… but he promised we’ll meet soon. So, I suppose it doesn’t bother me much.”

“By ‘some’, you mean an entire armful, don’t you?” Melody smirked knowingly, “Ari, don’t think you can fool me with this big girl act of yours. I can see how all of this is playing with your little heart. I just hope he’s as amazing and handsome as you have been telling me, or else...”

Their laughter mingled, lightening the air, until Melody abruptly stopped mid-sentence, her gaze snagged on something behind Ariel.

The room had shifted. The quiet chatter in the café faded, and a hushed stillness settled over the patrons. One by one, heads turned toward the door.

Ariel, sensing the change, slowly followed Melody’s gaze.

The bell above the door chimed softly, though the sound was swallowed by the sudden noise that swept the cafe. Sunlight streamed in through the glass, illuminating the tall figure who had just stepped inside.

He moved with the quiet authority of someone accustomed to every eye in the room turning towards him. His dark suit, sharply tailored, the kind that whispered old money and quiet power. A hint of gold gleamed at his cufflinks, subtle yet impossible to overlook.

Christopher Fairchild.

An introduction was not needed, Ariel knew. Her mind wandered back to the face she had fallen in love with at a young age: his calm demeanor, a man of restraint, of discipline, of mystery. But the image she had committed to memory had not prepared her for the real thing.

His gaze swept the cafe once, cool and unhurried, until it found her. 

Ariel froze; the world seemed to be closing in on her under the weight of that look.

“Good heavens,” Melody muttered under her breath, her hands clutching the cup tightly, “Ari… Is that him?”

Ariel’s lips parted, but words seemed to fail her.

He crossed the space between them within seconds, the faintest trace of a smile curving his lips as if he already knew her secret thoughts. When he finally stood before her table, the air seemed thinner; the chatter of the cafe entirely lost.

“Hello, Amar.” His voice was low, warm, and threaded with a gentleness, much deeper than she remembered.

That name again.

“Hi…” an almost breathless Ariel spoke, commending herself on how smooth her voice sounded.

Ariel rose to her feet. Their gazes locked, his steady, hers unsteady, and for the briefest second, it felt as though the world disappeared, leaving only the two of them suspended in a silence that spoke more than words could.

“Well…He certainly lives up to the hype.” Melody cleared her throat pointedly, taking a sip of her boba tea afterwards. 

“You must be Melody.”  Christopher’s smile deepened, his gaze unmoving from Ariel. “And you must be Christopher Fairchild.” Melody clapped back. 

Christopher gestured lightly towards the empty chair beside Ariel. “May I?”

Melody, wide-eyed, nudged Ariel under the table so hard she nearly yelped.  Ariel recovered with a tiny nod. “Of course.”

Up close, Ariel noticed the finer details the photographs had never captured - the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw, the sharp lines of his cheekbones, the depth of his striking blue eyes.

“I trust my notes reached you?” he asked, his voice laced with the smooth cadence of a man accustomed to negotiations, yet softened now, as though he’d set aside that armor just for her.

At this point, Ariel might just be a little delusional, but that’s not the main focus for now.

“Yes,” Ariel replied quickly, picking up the napkin gently from the table, “The roses were…beautiful. Thank you.” 

Christopher smiled, her gratitude pleasing him more than he had expected. “They reminded me of you, Amaryllis.”

Ariel’s heart skipped. Was he complimenting her, or simply the flowers?

Melody, always the one to stir drama, cleared her throat. “Mr. Fairchild…”

“Christopher,” He corrected, his eyes never leaving Ariel’s.

Melody shook her head at the lovestruck expression on her friend’s face. “Christopher. I have to say, you certainly know how to make an entrance. Half of this cafe nearly fainted.”

“I imagine this spectacle was completely unintended.” He replied, amusement brushing his features. He turned back to Ariel once more, his expression softening. “But I had no intention of keeping you waiting any longer.”

Ariel swallowed, her throat dry. “I didn’t think you’d…” she stopped, her words failing her. “I mean, your letter said you were busy.”

“I was,” he admitted. “But some matters demand more than pens and paper. Some deserve presence.”

Ariel broke eye contact, her hands reaching for the cup in a bid to calm her raging heart. She had dreamed of this moment, but now it was here. The reality was almost unbearable…he was too composed, too put together, and it left her bare.

Christopher leaned back slightly, studying her with an air that was almost protective. “I know this arrangement was not your choice alone, Amar. But rest assured, I do not take it lightly.”

Melody let out a knowing cough. If only he knew how quickly she had agreed to that proposal.