Cyrus was quiet after that. I guess he realized how strange it sounded — his mom being one of the witnesses to our… well, whatever this was.
Marriage? Contract?
I tried to focus on the packing, but my brain wasn't cooperating. Every few seconds, my mind replayed his words on loop. "My mom."
What was I supposed to do? Bake her cookies as a thank-you?
"You're awfully quiet," he said after a while, his tone light, but his eyes were watching me like he already knew why.
"Just thinking," I said.
"About?"
"About how I ended up in this situation," I replied dryly.
He chuckled — low and warm. "You say it like marrying me is a tragedy."
"I wouldn't call it a tragedy," I said, crossing my arms, "more like… a questionable life choice."
He laughed again, that easy, infuriating sound that made it hard to stay annoyed.
When we finally finished packing, it was already past 8 p.m. The air was cooler now, the kind of quiet evening that felt both peaceful and heavy at once. My back ached, and I was about two seconds from collapsing onto the couch, but Cyrus was still walking around like he'd just had an energy drink.
"Do you want to eat?" he asked, pulling out his phone.
I shook my head. "No, I'll just—"
"Wrong answer," he cut in. "You haven't eaten since morning. You'll faint before Monday, and then I'll have to explain to my mom why my bride looks half-dead."
"Your bride?" I repeated, glaring at him.
"Yes, my bride, or aren't you?" he asked with a grin.
He ended up ordering food anyway. I didn't argue — mostly because my stomach betrayed me with a growl right after.
When the food arrived, we sat down to eat. He passed me my plate with that stupid little smile like he'd done me some grand favour.
"You're welcome," he said before I could even thank him.
I just gave him a flat look. "You really enjoy hearing yourself talk, don't you?"
"Well, someone has to keep the conversation alive," he teased, then gestured to my food. "Eat. Before I start feeding you myself."
I scoffed. "You wouldn't dare."
The look he gave me was pure mischief. "You clearly underestimate my commitment to you."
I smirked despite myself choosing to say nothing. This guy...
"So, your mom," I started.
He groaned. "You're not over that yet?"
"Not even close."
He smiled a little. "You'll like her. She's gentle, not the scary kind of mother."
"I doubt that. Mothers always know when something's off. She's going to see right through us."
For a moment, something flickered across his face — worry, maybe. Or guilt.
"She won't," he said softly. "I'll handle it."
"Okay," I said quietly.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. There was a flicker of something between us — not tension exactly, but something warmer, heavier.
And it scared me.
When we finished dinner, Cyrus started clearing the plates before I could protest.
"You don't have to—"
"Too late," he interrupted, already at the sink. "Besides, I make a great dishwasher."
"Is that part of your CEO skills?" I asked, crossing my arms.
"Exactly. I multitask — ruin the economy and do dishes."
I couldn't help laughing. "You're ridiculous."
He looked over his shoulder, smirking. "And yet, you're smiling."
I quickly turned away. "No, I'm not."
He chuckled under his breath, clearly pleased with himself.
After everything was done, I sat on the couch, exhausted. He joined me a few minutes later, sitting just close enough that I could feel the warmth from his shoulder.
"So," he said softly, eyes on the boxes stacked near the door. "This is really happening, huh?"
"Yeah," I whispered. "Guess so."
"Are you nervous?"
"Should I be?"
He turned to look at me. "I don't know. I just… don'twant you to regret this"
Something in his voice made my chest tighten. I looked away, staring at the faint city lights through the window.
"I won't," I said. "It's just… a contract. Remember?"
"Right," he murmured, but his tone didn't sound convinced.
We sat there in silence again. It stretched between us, thick and unspoken.
And for the first time, I realized that maybe — just maybe — this fake marriage was not going to be as complicated as we thought.
A few minutes passed, and Cyrus stood up.
"Are you leaving already?" I asked
He turned to look at me with a smirk. "Why are you missing me already?" I just rolled my eyes at his remark he was never serious.
"We'll see again tomorrow don't worry" he replied turning to leave just when he was about leaving he turned to me I felt like he wanted to say something but ended up saying another thing.
"Good night," and with that, he left.
"Good night, Cyrus." I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.