Terms And Conditions

The house had barely recovered from silence when engines rolled into the driveway again.

Fenja heard them first.

Voices. Doors. Laughter that felt slightly too formal.

She stepped into the hallway just as Aloisia’s parents entered with Gerlach.

They were not alone.

Behind them walked a distinguished older couple.

Fenja recognized the resemblance immediately.

Sharp features. Measured posture.

Meinrad’s parents.

Her stomach dropped.

The living room filled quickly.

Tea was poured. Formal smiles exchanged. Compliments rehearsed.

Aloisia entered last.

Black blouse. Hair tied back. Expression unchanged.

When she noticed the unfamiliar guests, she simply nodded.

No surprise registered.

“Dr. Schmidt,” Meinrad’s father greeted warmly. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Likewise.”

Fenja stood beside Gerlach.

He slid his arm around her waist casually.

For the first time, he noticed something unusual in her.

Her posture was rigid.

Her smile a fraction too tight.

He did not address it.

Not yet.

Aloisia’s mother clasped her hands together brightly.

“Well, since everyone is here, perhaps we can discuss something exciting.”

Exciting.

The word felt misplaced.

Meinrad’s mother leaned forward.

“Our children reconnected at the reunion. It seems fate is… efficient.”

Aloisia remained silent.

Gerlach smiled.

Fenja felt heat creeping up her spine.

Aloisia’s father cleared his throat.

“Meinrad’s family has expressed interest in a formal proposal.”

The room quieted.

All eyes moved to Aloisia.

She did not shift in her seat.

Fenja’s fingers curled into her palm.

This was absurd.

Too fast.

Too deliberate.

Meinrad himself was not present.

This was parental orchestration.

Aloisia’s mother smiled expectantly.

“What do you think, Aloisia?”

Silence stretched for three long seconds.

Then—

“Okay.”

Just that.

Okay.

No emotion.

No hesitation.

Fenja felt something inside her crack.

But Aloisia continued calmly.

“One condition.”

The room leaned in.

“After marriage, I will reside in Russia.”

A collective pause.

Meinrad’s parents exchanged a glance.

“That is… manageable,” Meinrad’s father replied cautiously.

Aloisia nodded once.

Discussion resumed around logistics.

Travel arrangements.

Property considerations.

Cultural adjustments.

Fenja heard none of it clearly.

Russia.

Marriage.

Leaving.

Her mind raced violently.

If Aloisia marries him—

If she moves back permanently—

This is it.

This is final.

She forced a smile when someone mentioned future grandchildren.

Gerlach squeezed her waist slightly.

He felt it now.

The tension radiating from her.

But he misread its source.

He thought it was discomfort at family pressure.

Not something deeper.

Private Fractures

When Meinrad’s parents finally departed with formal promises and polite enthusiasm, the house exhaled.

Aloisia excused herself first.

“Work,” she said.

She always had that shield.

Gerlach watched her leave.

Then looked at Fenja.

“You’re quiet.”

“I’m tired.”

He studied her for a moment longer.

“Come.”

He guided her toward their bedroom.

The door closed.

The room felt suddenly smaller.

Gerlach stood facing her.

Direct.

Uncharacteristically serious.

“Do you like her?”

Fenja blinked.

“What?”

“Aloisia.”

The name hung heavy.

Fenja’s throat tightened.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?”

His voice remained controlled.

“I saw you at the reunion. I saw tonight.”

Fenja looked away.

He stepped closer.

“Answer me.”

Silence.

Her heart pounded loudly in her ears.

She did not want this confrontation.

Not like this.

Not now.

“I—”

“Do you like her?” he repeated.

Her defenses crumbled under the weight of honesty she had suppressed for years.

Her head moved before her logic could stop it.

A small nod.

Barely perceptible.

But undeniable.

Gerlach’s expression shattered.

He stepped back as if struck.

“You’re marrying me,” he said quietly.

“I know.”

“You’re marrying me,” he repeated, voice rising slightly.

“I didn’t plan for this to happen,” she whispered.

“What does that mean?”

“I thought it was over. I thought she didn’t care.”

“And now?”

“I don’t know!”

The confession echoed.

Gerlach’s breathing became uneven.

Seven years.

He had waited.

Persisted.

Loved her with an intensity bordering on obsession.

And now—

She nods.

For his sister.

Something dark flickered across his face.

“You humiliated me,” he said hoarsely.

“I didn’t mean—”

The slap came fast.

Sharp.

Loud.

Fenja stumbled sideways.

Shock exploded across her face.

The sting bloomed instantly on her cheek.

Gerlach stared at his own hand as if it belonged to someone else.

Fenja touched her face slowly.

Silence.

Heavy.

Unbelievable.

“I—” he began, but no justification formed.

Fenja tried to speak.

Nothing came out.

Her mind went blank.

The man who had always been gentle.

Who had promised stability.

Who had waited patiently.

Had just crossed a line neither of them could uncross.

Tears pooled in her eyes, not from pain, but from disbelief.

Gerlach ran a hand through his hair.

“You can’t love her,” he said desperately. “You can’t.”

“I didn’t choose this,” Fenja whispered.

“You said yes to me.”

“Yes.”

“Then choose me.”

She looked at him.

Truly looked.

And for the first time, she saw something frightening.

Possession.

Not love.

Possession.

He stepped toward her again.

“Tell me you’ll forget her.”

She said nothing.

He grabbed her shoulders.

“Tell me.”

“I can’t erase seven years!” she cried.

The words hit harder than the slap.

Gerlach released her abruptly.

His chest rising and falling rapidly.

“I love you,” he said, almost pleading now. “I’ve loved you longer than she ever did.”

“You don’t know that,” Fenja replied softly.

Silence fell again.

This time heavier.

More dangerous.

Gerlach turned away, gripping the edge of the dresser.

“Leave,” he muttered.

“What?”

“Leave me alone.”

Fenja didn’t argue.

She stepped out of the bedroom quietly.

Her cheek still burning.

Across the Hall

Aloisia’s door was slightly ajar.

Fenja paused outside it.

Her reflection in the hallway mirror showed the faint redness forming on her face.

She looked fragile.

Unsteady.

For a brief, irrational second, she considered knocking.

But pride held her still.

Instead, she retreated downstairs.

Aloisia sat in the study, reviewing documents.

She did not hear the slap.

But she sensed something shift in the air when Fenja passed earlier.

A disturbance.

An irregularity.

Her phone buzzed.

A message from Meinrad.

“Looking forward to our future arrangement.”

She stared at it.

Future arrangement.

Efficient.

Predictable.

Stable.

Exactly what she preferred.

And yet—

Somewhere in the house, something had broken.

She could feel it.

Not visibly.

Not audibly.

But undeniably.

Upstairs, Gerlach sat alone in the dark.

Regret creeping in too late.

Downstairs, Fenja pressed a cold cloth against her cheek, tears sliding silently.

And in the center of it all—

Aloisia remained composed.

Unaware that the calm she projected had become the catalyst for something volatile.

Because love twisted by pride does not disappear.

It mutates.

And now—

It was mutating dangerously.

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