The Imposed Engagement

The main hall of the hotel was illuminated by chandeliers that hung from the ceiling like stars caught in a golden net. The white walls, decorated with fresh flowers and minimalist yet elegant details, reflected the characteristic luxury of the Grove and Steele families. Photographers moved among the guests, capturing every smile, every toast, every gesture of complicity between those present. Outside, journalists eagerly awaited any official statement about the union of two of the most influential families in the country.

Inside the hall, I was caught in a conversation with my father, Victor Steele, and Lindsay's parents, Amelia and Thomas Grove. Around us, important businessmen exchanged opinions on how this merger would not only consolidate our fortunes but also open new doors for future business ventures. It was uncomfortable—not because I didn't understand their logic—after all, I had grown up in this world—but because I knew that Lindsay and I were mere pawns on a much larger chessboard.

—It's a brilliant strategic move —said one of the businessmen, a tall, gray-haired man named Richard Langley, as he raised his champagne glass—. The combination of the Grove family's advanced medical technology with the Steele family's global investments could revolutionize the industry. Congratulations to you both.

My father smiled with satisfaction, adjusting the cuffs of his custom-made suit.

—Thank you, Richard. I've always believed that great alliances begin with small but significant decisions. This engagement is just the first step toward something much bigger.

Amelia Grove, ever diplomatic, added:

—And the best part is that our children already have a strong relationship. This isn't just a business agreement; it's a celebration of love.

I almost choked on my drink. Love? Sure, Lindsay and I cared for each other, but this engagement had nothing to do with that. It was a transaction, pure and simple. I looked at Thomas Grove, who maintained an impassive expression, though his eyes revealed some discomfort. I knew he wasn't entirely convinced this was fair to us either.

I decided to intervene before the conversation became even more surreal.

—I apologize, but I think Lindsay needs me. I should make sure she's okay. My father looked at me with a mix of pride and warning.

—Don't take too long, Sack. There are still important people you need to speak with.

I nodded and quickly walked away, feeling the air grow lighter as I distanced myself from them. I headed toward where Lindsay was, accompanied by Charlotte and Daniel. Both were close friends, though they lived in another city due to their university studies. Their presence here was a reminder that, despite everything, we still had people who supported us unconditionally.

When I arrived, Lindsay saw me and gave me a small, knowing smile. Charlotte, as elegant as ever, wore a navy-blue dress that accentuated her figure, while Daniel, with his messy hair and perpetually relaxed demeanor, held a glass of red wine.

—Ah, here's the future groom —said Daniel, joking, but with a tone that made it clear how much he valued our friendship—. I thought you'd be stuck all night with the tycoons.

—Almost —I replied, taking a sip of my drink—. But I decided to escape before they started planning the next board meeting during the party.

We all laughed, though Lindsay's laughter had an ironic undertone.

—I don't know how you do it, Sack —commented Charlotte, leaning forward with curiosity—. I couldn't handle having my parents decide my future without consulting me first.

Lindsay crossed her arms, glancing briefly at me before responding.

—Well, I guess we're learning to survive in this world of family expectations. Although, honestly, I never imagined we'd end up being news in all the local papers.

Daniel arched an eyebrow, amused.

—News? Seriously? Because when Charlotte and I talked about getting engaged someday, we thought we'd be the first in our group to take that step. But it seems you beat us to it.

—Only technically —replied Lindsay, rolling her eyes—. Our parents made the decision for us. So it doesn't count as a true romantic triumph.

Charlotte let out a melodious laugh.

—Oh, come on. At least your wedding will be epic. Imagine it: gourmet catering, dresses designed exclusively for you, Lindsay, and probably even drones filming from the sky. That's memorable.

—Yes, if we forget that it's basically a corporate meeting disguised as a family celebration —I added, trying to keep the tone light, though I felt a weight in my chest. Lindsay discreetly took my hand under the table, a gesture that comforted me.

I knew she was also struggling with the feeling that our lives were being shaped by external forces.

As we continued chatting, I observed the bustle around us.

Photographers kept capturing moments, and some journalists tried to approach for statements. It was surreal to think that something as personal as an engagement had become a public spectacle.

—Hey —said Daniel, changing the subject—, have you thought about what you'll do after the ceremony? I mean, aside from meeting your families' expectations.

Lindsay and I exchanged a quick glance. Neither of us had seriously discussed that. We knew that, regardless of what our parents said, we wanted to find a way to stay true to ourselves.

—I guess we'll try to navigate this together —Lindsay finally responded—. It won't be easy, but at least we have each other. Charlotte smiled, visibly moved.

—That's what matters. At the end of the day, love always finds a way to prevail. Daniel snorted, pretending disbelief.

—Love? I thought this was a business merger. We all laughed, though the truth behind his comment lingered in the air.

After a few more minutes of conversation, we decided to return to the spotlight. The photographers asked us to pose with our parents, who looked proud in front of the cameras. As I smiled for the photos, I felt Lindsay squeezing my hand firmly. We didn't need words to know that we were both thinking the same thing: this isn't what we chose, but we'll face it together.

At the end of the day, as we watched the last guests leave, Lindsay and I stayed alone on the hotel balcony, observing the city lights in the distance.

—Do you know what's the most ironic thing? —Lindsay asked, breaking the silence.

—What?

—That, despite everything, I still feel lucky to have you by my side.

I smiled, wrapping my arms around her.

—Me too, Lindsay. Whatever future awaits us, we'll face it together.