Twisted Vows, Hidden Desire

Ethan sat by the window of the quaint coffee shop, the rich aroma of roasted beans swirling in the air. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the edge of his ceramic mug, eyes fixed on the busy street outside.

He glanced at his phone for the third time in five minutes. Claire is always late, he thought with a small smirk tugging at his lips. She'd probably blame traffic or her "uncooperative curls" as she often did.

A soft jingle echoed from the entrance. He looked up, and there she was — Claire Bennett. She stepped in, shaking the rain from her umbrella before folding it shut. Her eyes scanned the room until they found him. Her face lit up with a familiar grin, and she made her way over.

"Late, as usual," Ethan teased as she plopped into the seat across from him.

"Blame the rain," she shot back, slipping off her denim jacket and draping it over the back of her chair. Her brown curls, slightly damp from the drizzle, framed her face perfectly.

"Let me guess," Ethan leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Your curls were 'uncooperative' today too?"

Claire tilted her head, narrowing her eyes playfully. "Careful, Blake. I might 'accidentally' spill this hot coffee on you."

He chuckled, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Truce."

She smiled, her eyes scanning the menu for a moment before leaning back. "So, why the sudden urge to see a movie today? Feeling nostalgic for our old hangouts?"

Ethan's gaze dropped to his mug, his fingers tracing its rim. Not exactly, he thought, but he didn't say it aloud. Instead, he shrugged. "Maybe I just miss having good company."

Claire raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Right. And I'm supposed to believe that?"

He shot her a grin, the kind that always got him out of trouble. "Believe whatever you want, Bennett."

A waitress approached, took Claire's order, and left them to their banter. Claire leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm. "Okay, seriously. What's up, Ethan? You've been acting weird lately."

His smile faltered, but before she could push further, the waitress returned with Claire's coffee. He seized the opportunity. "Come on, drink up. We'll miss the previews if you don't hurry."

Claire eyed him suspiciously but picked up her cup. "Fine. But you owe me an explanation after the movie."

"Deal," he said, tossing a bill on the table and grabbing his jacket.

---

At the Movie Theater

The theater was dimly lit, the large screen flashing scenes from an action-packed trailer. Ethan and Claire sat in the middle row, a shared bucket of popcorn on Claire's lap. The sweet, buttery scent lingered in the air.

Claire leaned in, eyes glued to the screen. "This better be good," she whispered, tossing a kernel of popcorn into her mouth.

Ethan didn't reply. His gaze wasn't on the screen but on Claire. She was so focused, so absorbed in the moment. He envied that about her. Claire had always been able to live in the present, fully immersed in whatever she was doing.

Meanwhile, his mind had been stuck on the same issue for weeks now. The words of his parents echoed in his head:

"It's time you settled down, Ethan. We've chosen someone suitable for you."

He let out a slow breath, leaning back into his chair, his eyes fixed on the flashing lights of the screen. But he wasn't seeing the movie.

"Hey," Claire nudged him with her elbow. "You good?"

"Yeah," he muttered.

She squinted at him in the dim light, unconvinced but not pushing further.

---

After the Movie

They stepped out into the cool evening air. The buzz of cars and the chatter of pedestrians filled the street.

Claire pulled her jacket tighter around her. "That movie was better than I expected," she said, stretching her arms. "That fight scene? Insane."

Ethan shoved his hands into his pockets, his gaze distant.

Claire glanced at him, her playful grin fading. "Okay, enough of this weird energy, Ethan. What's going on with you?"

He stopped walking, hands still in his pockets, eyes locked on the pavement. Claire took a few more steps before realizing he wasn't beside her. She turned, frowning.

"Ethan?"

He met her gaze, jaw tightening. For a second, it seemed like he was going to dodge the question. But then, he spoke.

"My parents want me to get married," he said flatly, his voice void of emotion.

Claire blinked, her brows furrowing. "Wait… what?"

He sighed, looking away. "Yeah. They've already chosen someone for me."

Claire's eyes widened in shock. "Chosen someone? Ethan, what is this?

He gave her a dry smile. "Apparently, they do."

"Who is it?" she asked, arms folded across her chest. Her tone was sharp, her eyes narrowed in disbelief.

"Her name's Amelia Reed," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Her parents and mine have been planning this for a while. I guess they thought now was a good time to drop the bomb."

Claire's mouth fell open, and for a moment, she just stared at him. Then she let out a short, humorless laugh. "Unbelievable."

"Tell me about it."

Her eyes studied him intently. "And you're just… okay with this?"

"No, Claire. I'm not," he said firmly, his eyes meeting hers. "But what choice do I have? My dad's not giving me much of one. He's already talking about legacy, reputation, and all that crap."

"Since when do you care about what they think?" she shot back. Her voice was louder now, sharp with frustration.

Ethan's shoulders tensed. "It's not that simple, Claire."

"Of course, it's simple, Ethan!" She stepped closer, pointing at him. "You say no. You live your life how you want to. Isn't that what you've always done?"

His lips pressed into a thin line. Her words stung, but they weren't wrong. Claire had always been the one to challenge him, the one to remind him of who he was.

"It's not just about me anymore," he muttered, voice low. "They're threatening to cut me off."

Claire blinked, stunned. "Cut you off?"

He nodded, his jaw clenching. "No more financial support. No more backing for my photography business. Nothing."

Silence stretched between them. Claire shook her head slowly, her lips twisting into a scowl. "So you're going to give in?"

He didn't answer right away. His gaze fell to the ground. "What would you have me do, Claire?"

Her eyes searched his face, and her frustration melted into something softer — disappointment. "I'd have you fight," she said quietly. "Fight for your freedom. Fight for what you want."

He let out a bitter laugh. "Easy for you to say. You're not in my shoes."

Her face hardened. "No, I'm not. But I know you, Ethan. You're better than this."

They stared at each other, the weight of everything hanging between them.

"Just think about it," she added, her tone quieter now. "Think about what you'll be giving up."

Ethan glanced away, his throat tight. "I have thought about it, Claire."

Her eyes softened, her voice barely a whisper. "Then think harder."

She stepped back, turning to walk away. Her pace was brisk, her hands shoved into her jacket pockets. Ethan watched her go, guilt twisting in his chest.

He didn't chase after her.

He just stood there.

Alone.