Title: after the lights went out

CHAPTER 3

The last guest left an hour ago.

The orchestra was gone. The lights were dimmed.

The mansion was quiet. Too quiet.

Upstairs, Ondina sat on the edge of their bed. Still in her white dress.

He hadn’t come back.

She expected that.

Downstairs, the only light was from the bar.

A single glass. A bottle of red wine.

And Nicolas.

He loosened his tie. Threw his suit jacket over a chair.

Poured himself a drink. He didn’t want to feel anything tonight.

Then he heard it.

Soft footsteps on marble.

He didn’t look up.

But he knew.

Ondina.

She came down in bare feet. Hair down. The makeup washed off.

She looked tired. And real.

She stopped a few feet away from the bar.

Silence.

Finally, she spoke. Voice barely above a whisper.

Nicolas?

He took a sip. Cold eyes on the glass.

What.

Can we... talk? Just for a bit? The wedding is over. No cameras. No Ondrea.

Just us.

That made him look at her.

And Ondina forgot how to breathe for a second.

Because without the crowd, without the performance, he was too much.

Black shirt, sleeves rolled up. Hair messy. Jaw tight.

Serious. Cold. But devastatingly handsome.

He studied her. Like she was a problem he couldn’t solve.

He noticed the redness in her eyes. The way she was hugging herself.

And he hated that it bothered him.

So he looked away.

But deep inside?

The corner of his mouth almost moved. Almost a smile. He killed it instantly.

...Sit, he said. Low. Cold.

She sat on the stool beside him. Keeping distance.

For a while, they just sat there. The only sound was the wine pouring.

Nicolas picked up a second glass.

Poured.

Slid it to her. Without looking.

Ondina stared at it. Is this... for me?

Drink it or don’t, he replied. I’m not your babysitter.

She picked it up. Their fingers didn’t touch.

But she felt the warmth from his hand still on the glass.

To surviving? she tried. Small smile.

He finally looked at her. Deadpan.

To not killing each other, he said.

She laughed. Quiet. Surprised.

He didn’t smile. But his eyes softened for half a second before he killed it again.

They drank in silence.

Then Ondina tried again.

Can we at least try? To be... okay? For tonight?

No contract. No deals. Just... dinner. And wine.

Nicolas leaned back. Arms crossed.

You want to pretend we’re a normal couple?

Just for tonight, she whispered. Please?

He was quiet for a long time.

Then he sighed. Annoyed. Defeated.

...Fine. One night..

Ondina’s eyes lit up. Just a little.

He stood up. "Come on."

"Where?"

The kitchen. If we’re pretending, we’re doing it right.

He grabbed the wine bottle. "And you’re cooking.

I don’t cook, she said, following him.

Then learn, he said over his shoulder. But there was no bite in it.

In the big, empty kitchen, he set the wine down.

Pulled out two plates.

Started making pasta. Like it was nothing.

Ondina watched him.

The cold CEO, making pasta at 1AM in a t-shirt.

Why are you doing this? she asked.

Nicolas didn’t look at her. Because you asked.

Pause.

And because...

He stopped himself.

Because what?

Nothing, he said quickly. Too quickly.

He plated the food and pushed one to her.

They ate at the island. No phones. No people.

Just the sound of forks and the hum of the fridge.

Red or white? he asked suddenly.

Red, she said.

You?

Same.

Stupid question. But she smiled anyway.

When they were done, he poured them more wine.

This time, he clinked his glass to hers first.

To one night, he said.

To one night, she echoed.

They didn’t talk about the future. Or Ondrea. Or the contract.

They talked about music. About the rain. About nothing.

At 2AM, he stood up.

We’re done.

He walked upstairs. Without waiting.

But at the top of the stairs, he paused.

Didn’t turn around.

Goodnight, Ondina.

And disappeared into the hallway.

Downstairs, Ondina held her empty glass to her chest.

Her heart was pounding.

He didn’t yell.

He didn’t leave her.

He made her pasta.

It wasn’t love.

But it was a start.

And upstairs, Nicolas lay in the guest room, staring at the ceiling,

with the ghost of a smile he couldn’t explain.

MORNING AFTER THE QUIET

The mansion was still asleep.

Sunlight came in through the tall windows, soft and gold.

No music. No guests. No fake smiles.

Upstairs, Ondina woke up on the couch in the living room.

She must've fallen asleep there. Still in her white dress.

Her glass from last night was on the coffee table, empty.

She sat up slowly. Her heart felt... weird.

Not heavy. Not light. Just... different.

"Good morning," a voice said. Cold. Flat.

Nicolas.

He was in the kitchen again. Black shirt. Coffee in one hand.

Hair still messy from sleep. No tie. No suit.

He looked less like a CEO and more like... a person.

Ondina froze. "Uh... morning."

He didn’t look at her. Just poured a second cup of coffee.

Black. No sugar.

He set it on the counter and slid it toward her.

"Drink," he said. "You look tired."

That was the longest sentence he’s given her without sarcasm.

Ondina took the mug. Their fingers brushed.

Warm.

She pulled back fast.

"...Thank you," she whispered.

Silence again. But this time, it wasn’t angry.

It was awkward.

Nicolas leaned against the counter, arms crossed.

You sleep on the couch?

"I... I didn’t want to go upstairs," she admitted. "Alone."

He hummed. Didn’t reply.

But he didn’t leave either.

After a few minutes, he spoke. Still not looking at her.

We have a lunch with my board today. 12PM.

We need to act like a married couple. For 2 hours.

Ondina’s stomach dropped. Back to the contract.

"Right," she said quietly. "Pretend."

"Yeah," Nicolas said. Then he glanced at her. Just for a second.

Wear the blue dress. The one from fitting.

You look... decent in it.

Decent.

Coming from him, that was basically a compliment.

Ondina nodded. "Okay."

She stood up to go upstairs.

At the stairs, she paused.

"Nicolas?"

"What."

About last night... the pasta. And the wine.

Thank you. For... one night.

He didn’t turn.

But his jaw tightened.

...Don’t make it a thing.

And walked out to his office.

Ondina stood there, holding her coffee.

It wasn’t an "I love you".

It wasn’t even an "I’m sorry".

But it was coffee.

It was "you look decent".

It was him staying in the kitchen with her.

And for Ondina, that was more than she had yesterday.

Upstairs, Nicolas closed his office door.

He looked at his reflection in the window.

Cold face. Serious eyes.

But his hand was still warm.

From the mug he gave her.

He hated that.

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