The Quiet Contract

JenLisa

I scoffed, shaking my head in disbelief. "Please. I wouldn't touch her if she was the last person alive. The whole intersex thing just... I don't get it. How could anyone be okay with that? I need someone normal, not some—"

"Wow," Jisoo interrupted, giving me a look that was equal parts amused and exasperated. "You're being unbelievably harsh. You know she didn't exactly choose that, right?"

"I know, okay?" I shot back defensively, feeling my face heat up. "I just... I can't see myself with someone who has so much baggage. She's a walking red flag in every sense, and I don't need that in my life."

Jisoo just shook her head, chuckling. "Well, I guess you'll get to see for yourself if all those rumors are true. Maybe you'll end up more curious than you think."

"Don't hold your breath," I muttered, crossing my arms defiantly. "The last thing I want is to be involved with someone like her. I'll go to this stupid meeting, but don't expect any miracles."

Jisoo just laughed, sitting back with that same irritating grin. "We'll see, Jennie. We'll see."

--

The clock struck 7 p.m., its chime echoing through my office like a taunting reminder of the nightmare waiting for me. I glanced at the time on my phone again, my heart sinking a little deeper with every passing second.

This is it, I thought bitterly. No getting out of this.

With a sigh, I grabbed my coat and bag, leaving behind the comforting walls of my office and stepping into the crisp evening air. The drive to the restaurant was tense, every streetlight and stop sign adding to the tight knot in my stomach. My mind raced, replaying every reason I had to hate this arrangement.

How am I supposed to sit through dinner with her? I thought, a grimace pulling at my mouth. The thought of Lisa's quiet, awkward presence across from me was already irritating. Just imagining her uncomfortable silences, those unreadable expressions... it grated at me, setting my nerves on edge.

When I arrived, I gave the valet my keys and took a steadying breath before stepping into the restaurant. The place was elegant, the kind of upscale spot where people came to discuss business over meals that cost as much as a week's salary. My parents had chosen it specifically, of course, to "set the tone" for this forced interaction.

As I scanned the dimly lit room, I spotted her at a corner table by the window, sitting with her back straight, hands neatly folded in her lap. Lisa looked exactly as I'd imagined: quiet, tense, her eyes flicking down to the table as if she were too shy to even look up. She was dressed in a well-fitted suit, looking surprisingly polished, though it did little to change the feeling of annoyance growing in my chest.

Great, I thought. She's probably just as miserable about this as I am.

Steeling myself, I walked over, determined to make it clear this wasn't some romantic meeting. She looked up when I approached, her expression unreadable but... almost hopeful? I dismissed it, giving her a polite but detached nod as I sat down across from her.

"Lisa," I said curtly, barely meeting her gaze.

"Jennie," she replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

There was a silence, thick and awkward. I could feel her eyes on me, as if she was waiting for me to say something, to set the tone. But I wasn't about to play along.

"So," I started, folding my hands on the table and looking her square in the eye, "I'm assuming you know why we're here."

Lisa sat up a bit straighter, her gaze darting around nervously before settling back on me. Then, in the most earnest, almost endearingly clumsy way and bow in 360 degrees, she started her introduction.

"Hi," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, and then she cleared her throat. "I... um, I'm Lisa Manoban. I'm 27 years old, and I..." She took a deep breath. "I'm also a CEO—well, I mean, you already know that, but, uh... I thought I'd mention it anyway."

I blinked, momentarily at a loss. This was how she was introducing herself? Like a kid at a grade school presentation?

"And... um, my favorite food is Korean BBQ," she continued, managing a shy smile, like she was sharing some secret. "And, uh, my favorite color is yellow." She looked at me expectantly, her eyes practically twinkling as if she'd shared the most fascinating piece of information.

Yellow? I thought, feeling a pang of irritation. Of all colors, yellow? The one color I absolutely despised—the bright, loud kind that hurt your eyes. Somehow, it was fitting.

"And..." she went on, fidgeting slightly with her sleeves, "I like... reading, I guess. And photography, sometimes. I know it sounds boring, but I like finding small things, like, you know... details. The ones people don't notice."

I just sat there, stunned into silence. I had expected... I don't know, a detached business conversation, maybe a few cold pleasantries. But here she was, looking at me with a strange, sincere openness, practically telling me her life story.

She finished her spiel with an awkward little smile, clearly waiting for some kind of response, but I just stared at her, feeling my mind draw a complete blank.

This is the woman my parents want me to marry? I thought, dumbfounded.

--

I was laughing writing this chapter HAHAHA