The Contract Bride of Westwood

That night, after Leonard's mother left, and after their conversation the house grew quiet again. Melanie and Leo each retreated into the bedroom without saying much more. There was something delicate between them now, something unspoken but not hostile—like they were learning to breathe in each other's silence.

After they changed, Leo offered her the left side of the bed, the side she had unknowingly started to claim. Melanie slipped under the covers in her cotton nightgown, Leo in his usual black shirt and sweats. They didn't speak, but she felt his presence beside her, steady and warm. And when she closed her eyes, she realized she didn't feel alone anymore.

 They didn't face each other. But their backs shared the same warmth beneath the blanket, and their breaths slowly fell into rhythm.

Sleep came easily to Leo that night, but not before he turned to glance at her one last time, watching the way her shoulders rose and fell gently. She looked peaceful, and for a moment, something in him calmed.

The next morning started with quiet footsteps and low murmurs of the staff preparing breakfast downstairs. Leonard was already dressed when Melanie opened her eyes.

He stood by the window, typing something quickly on his phone.

"Morning," she said, her voice still heavy with sleep.

He turned slightly, offering a small nod. "Morning. I have a meeting at headquarters this morning, and then… I'll be flying out."

Melanie sat up. "Flying out?"

"Business trip. Out of the country. Just for three days."

Something twisted in her chest, though she wasn't sure why. "Okay."

"I've arranged your driver to take you to class. Same schedule. You'll be safe."

She gave a small nod. "Thanks."

Leo walked over and placed a hand gently on her shoulder. His palm was warm. Steady. "Call me if you need anything."

"I will."

He lingered a second longer, as if wanting to say something else—but then he turned and left with a final nod. The door clicked shut softly behind him.

--

A little while later, Melanie was in the backseat of the sleek black car, watching the city pass by as they made their way to Harrington Institute. She'd already grown a little more comfortable in this daily routine—though it still felt surreal. She was back in a place that reminded her of the dreams she once buried.

It was her second day at the designer masterclass, and she could already feel the difference in her own spirit. Like pieces of her were slowly falling back into place.

The tall, modern glass building loomed ahead. The driver pulled up to the entrance, and Melanie stepped out with confidence this time, her sketchbook tucked under one arm.

Inside the classroom, the usual quiet buzz of creativity filled the space. Students hunched over tables, sketching, cutting, pinning, some reviewing color palettes and fabric samples.

***

Inside Harrington's Institute– Mid-morning

Melanie stepped into the airy, sunlit workshop, the scent of fresh fabric and coffee hanging in the air. It was her second day at Harrington's, and though the nerves from day one had lessened, she still felt like an outsider in a world bursting with color, creativity, and confidence.

She walked to her assigned table near the window and began organizing her tools—fabric scissors, sketchpad, thread box—trying to focus.

"Hey, you're new, right?"

Melanie looked up, startled.

A girl with chestnut-brown curls and oversized round glasses was beaming at her from the next table. Her nails were painted pastel green, and she wore a denim apron covered in doodles and thread lint.

"I mean… not new new. You were here few days ago, right?" the girl continued, slinging her bag onto the chair beside her.

Melanie offered a small smile. "Yeah. Just getting used to everything."

"I'm Betty," she said cheerfully, extending a hand across the table. "Second-year, but I like sticking around with the newbies. Keeps things exciting."

Melanie shook her hand, a bit surprised at how warm the girl's presence was. "Melanie."

"Melanie," Betty repeated thoughtfully. "Pretty name. You've got a calm vibe. I'm guessing classic silhouettes and soft palettes are your thing?"

Melanie chuckled. "You got all that from my name?"

"Nope. From your shoes and the way you're gripping that sketchpad like it's your emotional support blanket."

That made Melanie laugh, really laugh, for the first time in what felt like days.

"I like you already," Betty said, grinning. "You working on anything today?"

"Just refining a bodice pattern," Melanie replied, flipping open her sketchpad. "Trying to adjust the neckline and get the structure to balance properly."

Betty leaned over to peek. "Ooh, you've got a good eye. That draping line? Smooth. You're not a beginner, huh?"

Melanie shrugged. "Let's just say I used to dream about this kind of work."

"Well, dreams are valid here. Welcome to chaos," Betty said, holding out her phone. "Exchange contacts? In case you get lost or need help bribing the vending machine."

Melanie hesitated a moment, then nodded, pulling out her phone and unlocking it. They quickly exchanged numbers.

"There," Betty said as she typed her name into Melanie's contact list, adding a little scissors emoji next to it. "Now we're officially friends. Don't worry—I'm only mildly annoying."

Melanie smiled again, her heart lighter. "That's manageable."

Melanie felt a lightness in her chest she hadn't felt in months—the joy of learning, of making a new friend, of doing something just for herself.

***

The car ride home was quieter today. The sky outside was turning orange, a sign of evening beginning to fall. Melanie leaned back in the seat, tired but strangely fulfilled.

Her phone buzzed again—this time a short message from Leo:

Leo: Don't forget dinner. You skip meals when you're distracted.

Melanie stared at the message, her heart doing a strange flip.

She typed back: Yes, boss.

The reply was instant.

Leo: Good.

She tucked the phone away and looked out the window.

She didn't know what they were.

But whatever was happening between them—it was starting to feel dangerously real.

***

Back at the manor, the house felt too quiet without him.

She wandered into the kitchen, reheated some food, and ate in silence. Her thoughts wandered to Leo again. To how easily he'd touched her shoulder earlier. To the sound of his voice when he said, "Call me if you need anything."

She carried her plate to the sink, rinsed it, and walked up to their bedroom.

The bed was too big without him. The house, too still. For a moment, she simply stood by the window, watching the sky turn navy blue, her reflection barely visible in the glass.

Then her phone pinged one last time.

Leo: Landed. Hotel's decent. It's late—go to bed, Melanie.

She replied simply:

Already in bed.

His last message was just one word:

Leo: Good.

She stared at the screen.

And then, for some reason she couldn't explain—her chest tightened.

Because even across oceans...

He still made her feel like she wasn't alone.