"You wanted to talk?" I ask cautiously, as I near the dining table. Dylan is seated on one end of the table and I am supposed to sit on the opposite end. The table is quite long, it can easily accommodate six more people. Why would he need such a long table?

Dylan was sitting there, looking at his phone while I entered the dining room. On hearing my voice, he glanced up.

"Yeah...but I think we should have dinner first." He says in a flat voice, giving nothing away. Here my stomach is rumbling for knowing the secret.

"No. I want to know what you wanted to talk about." I manage to keep the desperation in my voice in check. He shouldn't think I get so much bothered by a simple secret. Or rather something which is not even a secret. Just something I dont know...yet.

"I think you should eat something first. You haven't had your lunch properly, " he doesn't look up from his phone. I wonder what jewels he has stored in that thing.

Seeing his nonchalant behaviour, I can't help but snap. "None of your concern!"

He looks up from his phone, startled, due to the sudden rise in my voice. He should have expected it, right? He is in no position to get all concerned about me. Surprisingly, one end of his lip slightly twitches and he leans back against his chair. "Well, true...but I am hungry so I am not talking before I have had my dinner." A frustrated huff leaves my lips as he gives me the expression of mock innocence.  Mrs Griffin enters the dining room carrying a tray of Lasagna while I keep glaring at Dylan. Eyeing us both, she carefully places the tray towards Dylan's end and starts serving him. Her eyes keep drifting cautiously towards me while I try to reduce the intensity of my glare. "You can do what you want." He gives me a smile, or rather a smirk and dives into his food as if to intentionally piss me off.

Very slowly, Mrs Griffin moves to stand on the opposite end where I am ought to sit, still maintaining a careful distance as if I am about to bolt anytime now. What a good impression! Sighing heavily, I take the seat, finally giving in, not to the asshole sitting opposite to me but to my own hunger. After all, I did skip lunch...

The dinner passes on quietly with none of us speaking and Mrs Griffin sometimes entering the room to serve food and drinks. Not that I am acquainted with discussions over the dinner table. I was, at one time. Not anymore. Through these three years, I have been keeping myself busy with work and barely attended any meals with my uncle or friends. Loneliness seemed to be the only way to keep the tears at bay.

I remember breaking down a few times at home, alone, when something or someone used to remind me of Marc. At first, I tried to ignore but soon found out that the more I tended to run away, the more will his memories chase me. Last year, I finally decided that it was high time to meet Nelly and Hank, Marc's parents but halfway to their house, I turned around and instead ended up at Marc's grave.

We leave the dining room after I thank Mrs Griffin for the food and compliment her on her cooking. She gave me a sweet smile and said it was her duty. Since I came here, if I have spoken to someone really, then it was Mrs Griffin. All conversation with Dylan turns into a fight.

Dylan leads me to the living room and points at the couch. "I'll be right back. Just wait here," saying this, he heads for the stairs and I wait eagerly for what he has to say.

Dylan walks down the stairs with a file in his hand, the same file I saw in his hand this afternoon. As he closes the distance between the stairs and the couch, he sits down beside me and holds the file out for me. "What's this?" I ask as I draw it from his hand and start turning the pages.

"It's a contract," says Dylan as if I didn't know.

"A...postnuptial agreement?" I ask. If I have to sign this in order to make sure that I won't demand anything from him, then I dont really have a problem. Not that I expected him to believe me.

"Yes, you can say that. Julie actually signed this on our second date." Second date? Is he serious? So basically I have married a moron who makes his partner sign a prenuptial agreement on their second date.

Shaking my head, I look down at the pages and begin reading. All of a sudden everything halts when my eyes fall on the words written in the contract. "What's this about?" I look at him, wide-eyed.

"You can read right?" That makes my questioning look turn into a glare. Sighing, he shifts to face me completely, putting his left hand on the back of the couch and the other one on his knees. "Fine. So, we are going to be married for three months. And after that, you can claim as much money as you want. Julie had already filled it so I just didn't get it changed but you can increase the amount if you want to. We have to play husband-wife in public. You cant have any sexual relations with another man throughout the whole time and you can't disclose about this agreement to anyone." He completes saying this in a flat tone and I sit there shocked at the nonchalance of all the words that had just been spoken to me.

"You were going to marry Julie for only three months? Is this— is this all a joke for you?!" I still can't believe someone would draw such an agreement.

"Nope. I wouldn't have made these legal agreements if it was," he answers.

"Do you even know the meaning of marriage?!" I stare at him, blankly.

"I do," he shrugs.

"Doesn't seem like it. You wouldn't have drawn such an agreement then," I scoff waving the file in front of him.

"You want to stay married to me?" His question brings me to a halt.

"Uhm...no. I didn't say that." Truly the only thing I want right now is to leave this marriage and walk out. I have no interest and calling an arrogant stranger my husband.

"Then you should be happy about this." I throw myself into considering the agreement. I didn't want to get married in the first place so this shouldn't be a problem.

"You're right." I agree and sign the papers, but not without reading.

"You cancelled out the money?" He gives me a weird look as I hand over the file back to him.

"I dont need a penny from you." I grit through my teeth.

"Why though?" He frowns, turning the pages.

"My financial condition isn't bad. So I dont need it." I explain. "But why are you doing this?"

"Doesn't concern you." He looks at me once with a strange expression and begins to stand up.

"I think it does, provided that I am playing the role of your wife for the next three months," I state, making him halt and sit back down on the couch.

"You aren't playing, you are my wife for the next three months, legally."

"That makes it more important for me to know what all this is about."

"We all have our secrets."

"I dont," I state waving my hands on the air.

He crosses his arms and looks at me with a glare. "Then tell me who's grave did you visit this morning?"

"That doesn't concern the marriage." How dare he ask me something like that when it doesn't have shit to do with him.

"I'm your husband and I have the right to know where my wife goes and why."

We keep glaring at each other for sometime before I huff and stand up. "Fine. I won't ask anything but I have some conditions too that you have to follow."

"What conditions?" He cocks his head sideways.

"You can't touch me in these three months. You can't force me to tell you about my past and you can't ask anyone else about the grave or my past too." I say in a firm tone.

"Fine by me," he answers.

"Good."