Day 366
One year.
Ama sat on her bed and looked at the calendar on her phone. Same day she'd arrived. Same date. Same apartment. Same man sleeping two hallways away.
Everything was different.
She opened her notebook. Flipped through the pages. So many small things. So many moments.
Day 12: He asked if I slept well.
Day 18: He left the balcony door open.
Day 23: He made tea at midnight.
Day 45: We watched a movie. He almost-laughed.
Day 71: He gave me a book. He remembered.
Day 80: He said being with me is different.
Day 156: He came home early. Just because.
Day 203: He laughed. Real laugh. At something I said. I almost cried.
Day 244: He fell asleep on the couch. I covered him. He said my name in his sleep.
Day 289: We cooked together. Well, he watched. I cooked. He ate everything.
Day 312: He bought me a plant. A real one. For my room. "For company," he said.
Day 344: He looked at me like... like I mattered.
Day 365: He said "Happy anniversary." Then looked confused. Like he didn't know why he said it.
Ama closed the notebook.
One year.
She'd stopped counting days to freedom somewhere around Day 200.
Now she counted days with him.
This was bad.
This was very, very bad.
---
Day 367
Ethan was home before 8 PM.
This was becoming normal. Not every night. But more nights than not.
Ama was in the kitchen. Cooking. Something she'd started doing when she realized Yuna's food was delicious but lonely.
"Smells good," he said from the doorway.
She jumped. Almost dropped the spoon.
"Warning next time?"
"I live here."
"Ghosts live places too. I still expect them to announce themselves."
He almost-smiled. Number... she'd lost count. Too many to track now.
"What are you making?" he asked.
"Food."
"Specific."
"Pasta. If you must know."
"Can I have some?"
She turned. Looked at him.
"You want to eat with me?"
"I want to eat. You're cooking. Seems efficient."
"That's not romantic."
"Since when do we do romantic?"
He had a point.
She made him a plate.
They ate at the counter. Not the dining table. The counter. Like normal people.
He didn't say much. Neither did she.
But when he finished, he looked at the empty plate like it surprised him.
"That was good," he said.
"Thanks."
"You're a good cook."
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
Silence.
Then: "I could cook for you sometime," he said.
She choked on her water.
"You? Cook?"
"I know how."
"You know how to run a company. I've seen your kitchen skills. You once burned toast."
"That was one time."
"Toast, Ethan. Toast. Bread. The easiest thing."
"The toaster is confusing."
She laughed. Real laugh. The kind that came from nowhere.
He watched her.
That look again. Like she was something he was trying to figure out.
"What?" she asked.
"Nothing."
"You're looking at me like I'm a math problem."
"You're not a math problem."
"Then what am I?"
He didn't answer.
But he almost-smiled again.
And that was enough.
---
Day 389
Naomi came to the apartment.
Ama wasn't expecting this.
She was in the living room, reading, when the door opened and Naomi walked in like she owned the place.
"Oh!" Naomi stopped. "Ama. Hi. I didn't know you'd be here."
"I live here."
"Right. Of course. I just meant—" She laughed. Nervous? Maybe. "I should have texted first. Ethan said I could stop by anytime. We've always done that. I forgot things are different now."
Ama smiled. The polite one. The one that didn't reach her eyes.
"Different how?"
Naomi tilted her head. "Well. He's married now. That changes things."
"Does it?"
"I don't know. Does it?"
They looked at each other.
Two women. One man. Neither saying what they really meant.
Ethan walked in. Saw them. Stopped.
"Naomi."
"Ethan." She smiled. Warm. Real. "I was in the neighborhood. Thought I'd say hi."
"Okay."
"Your wife is lovely. We were just chatting."
He looked at Ama. Question in his eyes.
Ama shrugged. "Girl talk. You wouldn't understand."
Naomi laughed.
Ethan didn't.
"Come to my office," he said to Naomi. "We'll talk there."
Naomi followed him.
At the door, she glanced back at Ama.
Smiled again.
Not mean. Not cruel. Just... curious.
Ama smiled back.
And felt sick.
---
That night, Ethan knocked on her door.
"Come in," she said.
He opened the door. Didn't enter. Just stood there.
"Naomi and I are friends," he said.
"I know."
"Just friends."
"You said."
"She's been in my life a long time."
"I know."
"She's not—" He stopped. Struggled. "She's not you."
Ama looked up.
"What?"
"Nothing. I just—I wanted you to know. She's not you."
He left.
Ama stared at the door.
Heart pounding.
She's not you.
What did that mean?
---
Day 401
The notebook had new pages now. Lots of them.
Day 389: Naomi came over. She's nice. Too nice. I don't trust nice.
Day 390: He said she's not me. I've replayed that sentence 47 times.
Day 395: He came home early with takeout. We ate on the balcony. He asked about my day. Like he cared.
Day 398: I caught him looking at me again. He didn't look away. Just kept looking.
Day 400: Four hundred days. I've been here four hundred days. I don't want to leave anymore.
Day 401: I think he might... no. Don't say it. Don't hope.
But I hope.
I hope so much.
---
Day 415
Ethan's father visited.
Ama didn't know this was happening until she walked into the living room and found an older version of Ethan sitting on the couch.
Same jaw. Same eyes. Same way of looking at people like they were being evaluated.
"Ah," the man said. "You must be Ama."
"Yes. And you must be... Mr. Blackwell?"
"Ethan's father. Call me Richard."
She sat down. Tried to look calm.
Richard looked at her. Then at Ethan. Then back at her.
"So. You're the one who finally made my son settle down."
"It's... it's a marriage," Ama said carefully.
"Yes. I know. I arranged it."
She blinked.
"You what?"
"The contract. The money. The whole thing." He waved a hand. "My idea. Ethan needed someone. Your family needed money. I made a call."
Ama looked at Ethan.
His face was unreadable.
"You knew?" she asked.
"Yes."
"And you didn't tell me?"
"It didn't seem important."
"Didn't seem—" She stopped. Took a breath. Looked at Richard. "So I'm here because you wanted a wife for your son?"
"Basically."
"And you picked me because my family was desperate?"
"I picked you because you seemed nice. And desperate people are reliable."
Ama stood up.
"I need a minute."
She walked to her room.
Closed the door.
Sat on the bed.
Didn't cry.
Just sat there.
Twenty minutes later, a knock.
"Ama."
Ethan.
"Go away."
"Ama, please."
"No."
Silence.
Then: "I didn't know he was going to say that."
"Doesn't matter. It's true."
"It's not the whole truth."
"Doesn't matter."
"It matters to me."
She stood up. Opened the door.
He looked... worried. Actually worried.
"Why?" she asked. "Why does it matter to you?"
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
"Because I don't want you to think—" He stopped. "I don't want you to think this is just a contract."
"It is just a contract."
"No."
"Then what is it?"
He stared at her.
Longest look yet.
"I don't know," he finally said. "But it's not just a contract."
---
Day 416
Richard left.
Ama avoided Ethan all day.
That night, a note appeared under her door.
I'm sorry. Not for the contract. For how you found out. You deserve better. —E
She read it five times.
Then wrote back:
What do I deserve? —A
Slid it under his door.
Waited.
Twenty minutes later:
Everything. —E
She stared at the word.
Everything.
One word. Small. Huge.
She pressed the paper to her chest.
Didn't sleep all night.
---
Day 420
She wrote in her notebook:
Day 420: He said I deserve everything. He said this isn't just a contract. He looks at me like... like I'm real. Like I matter.
I'm so scared.
Not of him.
Of losing this.
Of losing him.
Two years left.
How am I supposed to leave when this is over?
How?