Twisted Vows, Hidden Desire

The rich aroma of spices, roasted chicken, and freshly baked bread filled the air as Margaret Reed set down a large bowl of mashed potatoes on the long dining table. The silver cutlery sparkled under the glow of the chandelier, giving the room a luxurious ambiance. Every plate, glass, and napkin was meticulously placed, as if perfection itself had been invited to dinner.

Amelia glanced at the scene, her heart heavier than she let on. Her eyes trailed her mother, who was busy ensuring every detail was in place. Her father, Robert Reed, sat at the head of the table, reading a newspaper but clearly aware of everything happening around him.

"They're here," Margaret said, her voice filled with excitement as the sound of the doorbell echoed. She pulled off her apron and hurried toward the door.

Amelia straightened her blouse, inhaling deeply. She glanced at her reflection in the window, smoothing her hair and pressing her lips together to compose herself. Tonight wasn't just about dinner — it was about selling a lie they had barely rehearsed.

Moments later, Margaret's cheerful voice echoed from the foyer. "Oh, Eleanor! Henry! Welcome, welcome!"

Henry Blake and Eleanor Blake entered, radiating elegance. Henry, tall and stern, wore a crisp navy-blue suit, while Eleanor dazzled in a maroon silk dress and pearl earrings. Behind them was Ethan, his sharp black shirt and gray trousers making him look as composed as ever. But Amelia knew him well enough by now to see the tension in his jaw and the faint unease in his eyes.

"Good evening, everyone," Eleanor said warmly, hugging Margaret like an old friend. Her gaze quickly moved to Amelia, and her smile grew wider. "Oh, Amelia, you look so radiant tonight."

"Thank you, Mrs. Blake," Amelia replied with a soft smile.

"Mrs. Blake?" Eleanor laughed lightly. "You'll be calling me Mom soon, dear."

Amelia's smile stayed in place, but it tightened just slightly. Not if I can help it, she thought.

"Henry, say hello to our lovely future daughter-in-law," Eleanor said, nudging her husband.

Henry stepped forward, his gaze as sharp as ever. He reached out for a firm handshake. "Amelia," he said with an approving nod. "It's good to see you're taking this seriously. That's the kind of woman my son needs."

Amelia held her smile, giving him a polite nod. "Thank you, Mr. Blake."

Ethan's eyes met hers briefly, and she caught the subtle message in them: Stay strong.

---

Dinner was served shortly after. The clinking of cutlery against plates and the hum of conversation filled the air. Margaret and Eleanor chatted about the upcoming wedding, while Henry and Robert discussed business and investments.

Amelia focused on cutting her steak into precise pieces, her eyes flicking toward Ethan. He sat diagonally across from her, his movements slow and deliberate, but she could see the calculation behind every gesture. He was biding his time, waiting for the moment to announce their decision.

Her mother's voice broke her thoughts. "So, Amelia, dear," Margaret said, her eyes shining with excitement. "Have you and Ethan given any thought to the engagement? We'd love to hear where your hearts are."

All eyes turned to her. The weight of their stares pressed against her chest. She glanced at Ethan, and just as planned, he set down his fork, wiped his hands with a napkin, and cleared his throat.

"Actually, we have," Ethan said, his voice steady but warm. He leaned forward, his hands clasped in front of him. "Amelia and I have talked it over, and we've decided…" He glanced at her, offering her a soft, encouraging look before finishing his sentence. "…that we're ready to move forward with the engagement."

Margaret gasped, her eyes shining with pride. Eleanor let out a joyful laugh and clapped her hands together. "I knew it! I told Henry it would only be a matter of time!"

"This is excellent news," Henry said with a broad smile, lifting his glass of wine. "Smart decision, son. Very smart decision."

Robert raised his glass as well, nodding in approval. "To our children, making us proud."

"To Amelia and Ethan," Margaret added, lifting her glass with a grin so wide it seemed her face might split.

"To Amelia and Ethan," everyone echoed, raising their glasses.

Ethan glanced at Amelia as they raised their glasses together. The look they shared wasn't one of love or passion — it was quiet understanding. They bought it.

---

After dinner, the families moved to the living room for dessert and further conversation. Margaret served slices of chocolate cake and poured fresh coffee. Eleanor couldn't stop smiling as she leaned toward Amelia, her voice hushed but filled with excitement.

"I'm so proud of you, dear," Eleanor said, placing a hand on Amelia's arm. "I knew you and Ethan would make the right decision. You two look so good together."

"Thank you, Mrs. Blake," Amelia replied, her voice sweet but controlled.

"Oh, come on, call me Mom." Eleanor laughed, patting Amelia's arm.

Amelia gave her a small smile. Mom? The thought made her stomach turn, but she played along. "Of course… Mom."

Meanwhile, Henry and Robert stood by the large window, their voices low as they discussed the wedding arrangements.

---

Later that night, as the Blakes prepared to leave, Eleanor hugged Amelia once more, holding her close. "If you ever need anything, I'm just a call away, my dear. Wedding planning is stressful, but I'll be with you every step of the way."

"Thank you, Mom," Amelia replied, trying not to cringe at the word.

As the Blakes walked out the door, Margaret turned to Amelia, her face beaming with pride. "You've done well, Amelia," she said, patting her on the back. "You've made me so proud tonight."

"Thanks, Mom," Amelia replied, forcing a smile.

As soon as the front door closed and the Blakes were gone, Amelia let out a slow, deep breath, her hands falling to her sides. Her mother didn't seem to notice, too busy cleaning up the dining area.

"Go on and get some rest, dear," Margaret said. "You've had a big night."

Amelia didn't respond. She made her way to her room, her legs moving mechanically. Her mind replayed the events of the night — the lies, the smiles, the fake excitement. Her chest tightened as she closed the door behind her.

Moments later, her phone buzzed. She picked it up, and Ethan's name flashed on the screen.

Ethan: "You okay?"

Amelia stared at the message for a moment before typing back.

Amelia: "Tired. You?"

Ethan: "Same. We pulled it off, though."

Amelia: "Yeah. They believed us."

She sat on the edge of her bed, her eyes locked on the screen. For a moment, her thumb hovered over the keyboard, her thoughts swimming in doubt. What are we doing?

But then she typed one final message.

Amelia: "Goodnight, Ethan."

Ethan: "Goodnight, partner."

Her eyes lingered on the word partner. She set her phone aside, lay back on the bed, and stared at the ceiling. This is what freedom looks like, right?

She closed her eyes, but sleep did not come easily.