Lydia sat on the bed, her fingers lightly tracing patterns on the soft fabric of the duvet. The room was silent except for the faint sound of running water from the bathroom. Her mind raced with thoughts she couldn’t quite sort out.
This arrangement had seemed straightforward when they first discussed it—a simple contract, a year of marriage, and then they would go their separate ways. But standing at the altar, seeing the way Scott had looked at her, feeling the warmth of his hand in hers… it didn’t feel like just a contract anymore.
She sighed and leaned back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling. Was she overthinking things? Maybe Scott was just good at playing his role. He was a businessman, after all—convincing people was part of his job.