Book (Pre) Release Party

Rome decided to throw a party to celebrate his upcoming book deal. He invited his closest friends—Jack, Mark, Roger, and because he was feeling generous, Roger's wife, Lauren. He also invited Jonathan Honda, who would be flying in from Los Angeles for the occasion.

The party was held at Rome's house, which he had decorated with frying pan-themed decorations. ("It's on-brand," he explained to no one in particular.)

He stood in front of the stove, stirring a pot of Melissa's famous lasagna. Or, at least, it used to be Melissa's famous lasagna. Now it was just lasagna. His lasagna. He'd found the recipe scribbled on a notepad in the kitchen, and while he wasn't much of a cook, he figured he could handle it. How hard could it be?

The answer, as it turned out, was very hard.

The sauce was too watery, the noodles were overcooked, and the cheese—well, the cheese was a lost cause. Rome frowned at the pot, stirring vigorously as if sheer force of will could fix it. He'd already burned the first batch, and he wasn't about to make the same mistake twice.

The doorbell rang, snapping him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the clock on the microwave: 7:02. Right on time.

"Coming!" he called, setting the spoon down and wiping his hands on his apron. He took a deep breath, plastered a smile on his face, and headed for the door.

The dinner party had been Honda's idea. He'd invited a few friends over—just a small gathering, nothing fancy—to celebrate the release of his book.

Melissa's absence on the other hand had been explained away with a vague story about her visiting her sister out of state. No one had questioned it. Why would they?

Rome opened the door to find Jack, standing on the porch. Jack was holding a six-pack of beer, "Rome, my man!" Jack said, clapping him on the back. "I can't believe you're getting a book deal. What's it called again?"

"The Emancipation of Rome," Rome said, his chest puffing with pride.

"Sounds intense," Jack said, popping open a beer.

Mark arrived next, carrying a bottle of wine.

"Rome," he said, "I read your manifesto. It's… enlightening."

"Right?" Rome said.

"Broke up with my girlfriend right after."

"Wow," Rome said, stepping aside to let them in. "Come on in. We're just getting started."

Roger and Lauren arrived last, "Rome," Lauren said, her tone sharp, "what is all this?"

"It's a party," Rome said, smiling. "To celebrate my book deal."

Lauren raised an eyebrow. "Your book deal?"

"Yeah," Rome said. "My manifesto is being turned into a book. It's a big deal."

Lauren opened her mouth to say something, but Roger cut her off.

"Let's just enjoy the party, okay?" he said, his tone pleading.

Lauren sighed, her eyes scanning the living room as soon as she walked in, it was as if they were looking for something. Or someone.

"Where's Melissa?" Lauren asked, her tone casual but her eyes sharp.

"Oh, she's, uh, out of town," Rome said, closing the door behind them. "Visiting her sister. You know how it is."

Lauren nodded, but she didn't look convinced. Rome pointed to the dining room while he continued to the kitchen, where the lasagna was still bubbling away on the stove, his visitors' eyes staring into his back.

"Smells good," Roger said, though the way he wrinkled his nose suggested otherwise.

"Thanks," Rome shouted back from the kitchen, grabbing a couple of plates from the cupboard. "It's Melissa's recipe. Well, my version of it, anyway."

Lauren shoots a look at her husband but doesn't say anything.

He set the table with Melissa's good china, the kind she only used for special occasions. He'd even lit a few candles, though he wasn't sure why. It just felt like the right thing to do.

Roger noticed there were six plates and spoke. "Expecting one more?"

As if on cue, the door rang again and with a smile on his face, Rome moved to answer it.

He unlocked the door and on the other side stood a man who mirrored Rome's expression. He was carrying a leather briefcase and a look of supreme confidence.

"Rome," he said, shaking Rome's hand, "it's a pleasure to finally meet you in person."

"Likewise," Rome said, his chest puffing with pride.

It was the first time they were seeing each other but hours of online chatting made them both feel as though they had known each other for years.

Rome led Jonathan to the dining room and introduced him to his friends (and acquaintances, he wasn't too close with Lauren).

"Dig in," he said, setting the lasagna on the table. "There's plenty for everyone."

Roger and Lauren exchanged a glance but didn't say anything. Mark and Jack began serving themselves. Rome quickly returned to the kitchen to hang his apron.

The conversation was stilted at first, with everyone tiptoeing around the elephant in the room. But as the wine flowed and some of the lasagna disappeared—though only Jonathan seemed to enjoy it—the tension began to ease.

Jonathan was the first to try and change the course of the conversation. "Rome, why don't you tell your friends more about your book?"

"Ah, yes," he said, leaning back in his chair, "I've been thinking a lot about marriage lately."

Lauren raised an eyebrow.

"What about it?" Lauren asked, her tone carefully neutral.

Rome shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I've just been wondering if it's all worth it. You know, the whole 'til death do us part' thing."

"What the hell?"

"He's on to something, you know," Jonathan chipped, "Just think about it for longer than a minute. Marriage is supposed to be this great partnership, but what does it really give us? A lifetime of nagging and compromise? A never-ending to-do list? Is that really what we signed up for?"

Rome smiled proudly, Jonathan had quoted the second paragraph on page 27 of his manifesto.

Rome nodded before speaking: "I think there is a great need to rethink the whole institution. Maybe it's time for a change."

"Uh, Rome," Lauren said, "where is Melissa, exactly?"

Rome froze, his bottle halfway to his mouth. He could feel everyone's eyes on him, waiting for an answer, and for a second, his eyes darted to the window outside which his car was parked. He forced a smile.

"She's visiting her sister," he said, his tone casual. "I told you that."

"Yeah, but…" Lauren hesitated. "It's just weird, you know? She didn't say anything to me."

Rome's smile tightened. "Well, it was kind of a last-minute thing. You know how Melissa is."

No one said anything. The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable.

"How about you read them an excerpt from your manifesto?" Jonathan suggested.

"Brilliant idea," Rome said pulling out his phone. After clicking on the screen a few times, he cleared his throat and began reading.

"For too long, men have been told to 'man up,' to suppress their emotions, to sacrifice their dreams on the altar of marital bliss. But what is this so-called 'bliss' if not a thinly veiled form of oppression? The constant nagging, the endless honey-do lists, the unspoken expectation that we must always be the providers, the protectors, the problem-solvers—it is a burden too heavy to bear.

And yet, we bear it. We bear it because we are told that this is love. That this is partnership. That this is what it means to be a man. But I ask you: Is it love to demand that another person give up their autonomy? Is it partnership to expect one person to carry the weight of the relationship while the other reaps the benefits? Is it manhood to silence your own voice in service of someone else's happiness?

No. It is not.

What I have come to realize—what I have liberated myself from—is the idea that marriage is a two-way street. It is not. It is a one-way road, paved with the broken dreams of men who were told that their worth is measured by their ability to provide, to fix, to endure.

But I say no more.

I say it is time to reject the myth of the happy wife. I say it is time to reclaim our autonomy, our freedom, our humanity. I say it is time to emancipate ourselves from the chains of marital expectation and embrace a new paradigm—one where men are free to be who they are, to live as they choose, to exist without apology.

This is not a call to arms. It is a call to awakening. A call to liberation. A call to emancipation.

And it begins with us."

Rome finishes reading, his voice trembling with emotion. The room is silent for a moment, and then—

"Rome, that's… that's powerful, man. You're speaking the truth," Jack said, clapping furiously.

"Yeah, I mean, it's like you're in my head," Mark nodded. "The honey-do list? The nagging? It's all so… real,"

Roger raised his beer bottle, "To Rome! The voice of a generation!"

Lauren rolled her eyes, "Are you serious? This is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

"Oh, come on, Lauren. Don't ruin the vibe," Jack said.

"Ruin the vibe? This is insane," said Lauren, "Rome, you're talking about marriage like it's some kind of prison sentence. What about love? What about partnership?"

"Lauren, I understand your skepticism. But sometimes, the truth is hard to hear," Rome said with a soft smile.

"The truth? This isn't truth. This is… this is nonsense," she exclaimed.

Roger rises to his feet. "Lauren, that's enough. If you're not going to support Rome, maybe you should leave."

Lauren stared at her husband, "You're kicking me out? Seriously?"

"Yeah," Roger nodded, "This is Rome's night. Don't ruin it."

Lauren grabs her purse and storms out, muttering something about "delusional men." The door slams behind her, and the room falls silent again.

Rome raised his bottle, "To freedom."

The others did the same, "To freedom!"

"Read us another!" Mark requested.

Rome smiled and began scrolling through his phone but was interrupted by a knock at the door. Rome froze, his heart pounding in his chest. He hadn't invited anyone else. Did Lauren come back? Who could it be?

"Uh, I'll get it," he said, standing up so quickly that his chair nearly toppled over. He hurried to the door, his mind racing. When he opened it, he found himself face-to-face with a woman in a trench coat, her badge held up for him to see.

"Romulus Pine?" she asked, her tone brisk but not unkind.

"Yeah," Rome said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm Detective Lee with the local PD. We got a report that Melissa hasn't shown up for work in a few days. Mind if I come in and ask you a few questions?"

Rome's mind went blank. He could feel the blood draining from his face, his hands trembling at his sides. He glanced over his shoulder, where his friends were watching from the dining room, their faces a mix of confusion and concern.

"Uh, sure," he said, stepping aside to let her in. "Come on in."

Detective Lee stepped inside, her eyes scanning the room. She took in the dinner party, the half-eaten lasagna, the candles flickering on the table. Her gaze lingered on Rome's friends, who were now staring at her with wide eyes.

"Sorry to interrupt," she said, her tone polite but firm. "I just need to ask Romulus a few questions. It won't take long."

Rome's friends exchanged glances but didn't say anything. Rome could feel their eyes on him, their unease growing by the second.

"Uh, let's talk in the kitchen," Rome said, leading Detective Lee away from the dining room. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his palms slick with sweat. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not like this.

Detective Lee followed him into the kitchen, her eyes scanning the room. She took in the mess on the counter, the burned lasagna in the pot, the apron hanging on the hook. Her gaze lingered on the frying pan sitting on the stove, its surface still smeared with something dark and crusty.

"So," she said, turning to Rome, "when was the last time you saw Melissa?"

Rome swallowed hard. "Uh, a few days ago. She went to visit her sister. Out of state."

Detective Lee nodded, her expression unreadable. "And you haven't heard from her since?"

Rome shook his head. "No. She said she'd call when she got there, but … she hasn't."

Detective Lee studied him for a moment, her eyes sharp and assessing. Then she nodded again.

"Okay," she said. "Thanks for your time. I'll be in touch if we have any more questions."

Rome watched as she turned and walked out of the kitchen, her footsteps echoing in the sudden silence. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his hands trembling at his sides.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He needed to get rid of the evidence sitting (or more accurately, lying) in the trunk of his car.

After giving a quick excuse to his friend and leaving everything in Jonathan's hand, Rome hurried to his car. There was a stench that escaped the crampness but that didn't bother him too much.

He lowered his window and began for a lake far from his home. When he got there, Rome got out of his car and tried to push it into the lake but the car would not budge. He decided to leave the car and return to finish the job tomorrow. Unbeknownst to him, the detective had seen him leave his house.

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