Strings of Solace

Chapter 8

"How do you know?" I asked, turning to look at his expression, still trying to figure out my future husband. "Also, what do you mean for the time being?"

"I saw you post about it on social media," Stephen said, sounding like an expert on my posts. "As for Italy, we'll go there whenever you want us to go after we get married. We can even go on our honeymoon there."

"Honeymoon?" I asked, reddening instantly.

Surely Stephen understood the rules clearly, that we were a couple only on paper, that there would be no honey on our honeymoon.

"Of course. It would be very suspicious if we didn't have a honeymoon," Stephen said soothingly, accurately guessing my thoughts. "Just because we aren't a proper couple doesn't mean we can't enjoy the tourist attractions in different countries, as friends, of course."

"Of course," I said as I started to take off my coat clumsily.

"Allow me," Stephen said, helping me out of my coat before I could stop him.

Then he pulled out the chair for me, causing me to almost fall because I was unused to that type of treatment and misjudged the distance between the chair and my behind.

"Thank you," I said, feeling like my blood must have been boiling because I felt as if I was on a tropical island and not in the cooler climate of my country.

As I finally settled comfortably in my seat, all I could do was hope he didn't notice the rips in the lining of my coat and the fact that I almost fell out of my chair just because he pulled it out for me. It would only show him how unused I was to things that were probably usual for him.

Maybe marrying him wasn't the best idea. How many little things like that would come up during our marriage? How would I find enough courage and acting ability to deal with all of them?

"No, thank YOU," Stephen said, sounding genuinely sincere.

"For what?" I asked, confused.

"For asking me to marry you," Stephen said, flipping through the menu. "I didn't know I needed someone to stand by my side, to be my life partner (even if it's not a romantic partner) until you asked, and I started imagining how nice it would be to have someone with whom you could be honest and who would support you in dealing with people, with life."

His speech made me realize it was way too late for me to back out of the deal I had suggested. Because Stephen was emotionally invested in this, I needed to see it through, as I didn't want to hurt him again. Besides, I also thought it would be nice to have someone standing by my side, to catch me when I fall and not judge me for falling in the first place, and Stephen sounded like the perfect guy for the job.

"Okay, enough with the mushy stuff," I said awkwardly. "Let's order some food."

"Good idea. I hear you can get really... hangry when you don't eat on time or when you don't eat enough," Stephen said, carefully checking the menu for the most delicious dishes.

"Where did you hear that?" I asked, annoyed.

I wasn't as bad as people were saying, was I? Maybe I was more easily annoyed and emotional than the average person. However, I was sure other people got angry too.

"Oh, it was on the news," Stephen said in an overly serious tone. "In the BEWARE HUNGRY MINA section."

"Hilarious," I said, smiling at him more naturally than I had smiled in a long time.

"We aim to please," he said, grinning at me like the Cheshire cat.

The odd little smile made me laugh out loud for the first time in years.

It occurred to me that maybe marrying Stephen wasn't such a bad idea. He seemed to be a fun guy to be around, even more so than when we were teenagers. The marriage could be a good thing for both of us. It could allow us to breathe a bit more freely and let our friendship be the raft that carries us above the drowning opinions of others.

It was worth a try. It couldn't hurt us more than those we trusted the most have already harmed us. Maybe two broken souls like us needed each other to heal. We could be crutches for each other to bear the pain and maybe even find some happiness on the way.

The way to healing and self-acceptance might not be the fake marriage itself, but the nurturing of the friendship that I had cut in the bud a long time ago, because it had the potential to grow into a much deeper bond, when trusting people terrified me, when I was too young to know any better.

It still scares me, but growing up, I learned to face my fears and be brave.

That was why I was ready to try with him — I was ready for the trust fall that was friendship. He was the only one I trusted enough to do so, to gamble that our friendship would lead to a deeper connection and understanding, which would help us both heal.

When the food arrived, all my profound thoughts vanished, and my future husband and I enjoyed a quiet meal together.

Maybe that was what life was about. About small moments of quiet joy.