Chapter 8: The Day Is Near

The sound of her phone interrupted the stillness of the morning. Sarai half-opened her eyes, still groggy, though she hadn’t really rested. She had fallen asleep on the edge of the bed without changing out of the previous day's clothes, her mind tangled in memories, worries, and the harsh reality that had enveloped her since signing that contract. She grabbed her phone with a trembling hand, and as soon as she unlocked it, the first thing she saw was the name that made her chest tremble involuntarily: David Donovan.

“Good morning. How did you wake up? I've been thinking... we should set a wedding date. Are you free this weekend? I don’t want this to stress you out, but the lawyers need to move forward with the paperwork. Can we talk later?”

She stared at the message a few seconds longer than necessary, as if trying to read between the lines something her heart already suspected. David wasn’t a man of sweet words or grand gestures, yet there he was—asking how she’d slept, using a tone that was almost considerate, as if trying not to push her off a cliff, but instead to jump alongside her.

She sighed deeply, letting the phone fall onto the bed. The idea of marriage felt heavier each day—not because of the ceremony itself, which would be discreet, private, almost clinical—but because of the emotional leap it represented. She would marry a man she was still uncovering layer by layer, someone who both scared and attracted her, someone who had forced his way into her life... but also with a tenderness that appeared at the most unexpected times.

She went downstairs, trying not to make noise. Her mother’s dry, weak cough echoed from the nearby bedroom, a constant reminder of why she was doing all of this. It wasn’t for money. Not for ambition. Not for a comfortable life. She did it because her mother, the woman who had raised her alone, who had worked for years with hands ruined by detergent and double shifts, was sick—and the treatment couldn’t wait. And she wasn’t going to wait to lose her.

In the kitchen, her mother was waiting with a cup of coffee and a few slices of toast. Sunlight slipped in shyly through the window, painting golden spots on the floor.

—Good morning, sweetheart —her mother said with a hoarse voice—. Did you sleep here last night?

Sarai hesitated. She lied.

—Yeah, Mom. I just went to bed late.

Her mother’s tired smile twisted her stomach. She couldn't bear to see her suffer. She wouldn’t tell her the truth. Not yet. Not if she could protect her a little longer.

Just then, Erick walked into the house. He looked disheveled, his shirt wrinkled and his face set in a scowl, like the whole world owed him something. Her younger brother wasn’t a bad person, but for years now, he had taken the easy road—gambling, lying, shortcuts. He lived in debt, sinking deeper into his own chaos each week.

Sarai turned on her heel and climbed back up to her room, slamming the door harder than necessary. She lay on the bed and took a deep breath. Then she picked up her phone and replied to David's message.

“Good morning, David. Thank you for asking. My mother is still the same, so I’m not sure this weekend is a good idea. Could we postpone a few days? I’d appreciate it.”

The phone vibrated almost immediately. He had been waiting.

“I understand. Whatever you need, Sarai. I don’t want to pressure you. I’m here to help you, not to make things harder. We can wait a few days. How does Wednesday sound?”

That last line disarmed her. It was so different from what she had imagined of him when she signed the contract. In her mind, David Donovan was an arrogant magnate, pragmatic, emotionally distant. And he was—in many ways. But there was something in him beginning to crack that armor: his way of caring from a distance, of respecting her silences, of being there without invading.

“Thank you for understanding. Wednesday is fine.”

Sarai spent the rest of the day in a state of calm anxiety. She helped her mother bathe, carefully prepared dinner, and avoided speaking to Erick. At exactly seven o’clock, a dark car parked in front of her house. David stepped out with his usual quiet elegance: dark suit, serious gaze, but with a warmth in his eyes reserved only for her. It wasn’t love yet—she knew that. But it wasn’t indifference either. And that, in a world where everything felt artificial, meant everything.

It was six forty-five when Sarai felt the vibration of an engine pulling up right in front of her house. She peeked through the dining room curtain and her heart skipped a beat. The shiny, sleek black vehicle left no room for doubt. It was him. David Donovan.

—No... —she murmured under her breath, backing away from the window and pressing her hands to the sides of her pants.

She hadn’t told him to come. She hadn’t invited him. In fact, she had assumed her message had been clear enough to draw a line. But David, with that cold and calculated confidence he always carried, had just crossed an invisible boundary.

The doorbell rang.

—Sarai! —her mother called from the back, her voice weak—. Can you get the door?

Sarai shut her eyes tightly. Damn it. She couldn’t leave him out there, but she also couldn’t let him in and have Erick see him. Not after the way he had been behaving lately. Her younger brother was looking for any excuse to make easy money, and if he noticed David’s wealth, the fancy car, the tailored suits, he’d cling to him like a shadow.

She rushed to the door and opened it just a crack, blocking the entrance with her body. David stood there, impeccable as always, with a calm expression and eyes fixed on her.

—You didn’t say you were coming —she said quietly, not hiding her discomfort.

David raised an eyebrow, as if he didn’t understand the issue.

—I wanted to see you. I thought... you wouldn’t mind.

—Well, I do mind, David —she said firmly—. I don’t want you to come in. Not now. Not here.

He frowned slightly.

—Did something happen?

Sarai glanced inside, then back at him. She lowered her voice, but not her intensity.

—My brother is home. I don’t want him to see you. You don’t understand... Erick is an opportunist. If he finds out who you are, if he senses you have money, he won’t leave you alone. And I don’t want to drag you into that mess. It's enough that you’re in my life because of this contract. I don’t need more chaos.

David seemed to take in every word in silence. He didn’t get offended. He didn’t contradict her. He just looked at her, with a gaze warmer than usual, as if trying to understand the depth of what she was saying.

—I didn’t come to cause trouble —he said after a few seconds—. I just... wanted to be near. But if it’s not the right time, I’ll respect that.

She nodded, lips pressed tightly, though her chest was pounding. It hurt to push him away, even if she knew it was the right thing to do.

—Can we go somewhere else to talk? —Sarai finally asked, sighing—. I don’t want you to leave, David. I just don’t want you here.

He nodded immediately, without hesitation.

—Get in. I’ll take you wherever you want.

—Somewhere no one else is —she said, quickly closing the door behind her and yelling inside—. Going out to buy something, Mom! I’ll be back soon!

David opened the passenger door without saying a word. Sarai got in, her pulse still racing. He started the engine, and they drove through the city, the golden evening light streaming across the windshield like falling sunlight. The silence between them wasn’t awkward, but dense—full of words neither dared say.

When they had left the familiar streets behind, David turned toward a quiet area of the city park. He stopped by a tree-lined path, turned off the engine, and looked at her without breaking eye contact.

—Don’t apologize for protecting your space, Sarai —he said suddenly—. You don’t have to open the door just because we have a contract.

She looked at him in surprise. She hadn’t expected that level of understanding.

—Thanks for getting it. It’s just... I don’t want my family to see you as a lifeline. I don’t want them to think you’re the answer to all our problems.

David leaned a bit closer.

—I’m not the solution, Sarai. But if you let me, I can be a support. For you. Not for them.

Silence settled again. She held his gaze, trying to gauge how much of his words she could believe, how much of it was real. There was something in David that didn’t quite fit the cliché of the cold, calculating businessman. He was smart, yes. Precise. But there was also a particular way he cared—being there without asking anything in return.

—Did you talk to the lawyer already? —she asked, breaking the moment with a sudden shift in topic.

—Yes. He wants everything ready for Wednesday. If that’s okay with you.

—I’m okay with it —she answered without hesitation. There was no turning back.

—Are you sure?

—As sure as someone can be when they’re marrying someone they barely know, because of a contract —she replied with a bitter half-smile.

David watched her silently.

—Maybe you don’t know me well yet. But you will. And I want to know you too.

Those words struck deep. Sarai lowered her gaze, biting her lip. The contract had een her salvation. But without realizing it, it had also opened a door she might never be able to close again.