Chapter 2 The arrangement

I woke up to silence, but it wasn’t peaceful. It was heavy. I rolled over and blinked at the ceiling, trying to shake off the exhaustion I hadn’t even noticed I carried.

And then I heard them.

Laughter. Light, easy, and completely foreign.

I froze. My room was at the end of the hallway, but the sound reached me like a hammer. My father’s laugh, the soft murmur of Melissa beside him, and the laughter of their daughter .

I swung my legs off the bed, stepping lightly so they wouldn’t hear me. My chest tightened as I peeked around the corner.

There they were: my father leaning close to Melissa, her head tilted back as she laughed at something he said, and in the middle, their daughter, laughing freely, full-bodied, adult-like, completely at ease. My father’s eyes softened at her in a way they had never done for me since Mom passed.

I felt like an intruder in my own life.

I am twenty five, grown, capable, yet in that moment I felt smaller than ever. Alone. Invisible. Orphaned, in a way, even though my father was still alive. My mother had passed, but I had never imagined feeling this erased.

I moved to the kitchen, brewed coffee in silence, and tried to keep my thoughts from spinning. I didn’t want to hear them. I didn’t want to see them. But their laughter so easy, so effortless, was like smoke drifting into every corner of the house, unavoidable and suffocating.

Work became a necessary escape. Emails, meetings, phone calls, anything that demanded focus. My colleagues talked about projects and deadlines, completely unaware that my heart wasn’t in the office, that my world had shifted irreversibly.

But when I returned home, I found that the past few hours of normalcy couldn’t shield me. My father was waiting in the study.

“Rose,” he said, voice calm and measured, motioning for me to sit. Leather chair beneath me, cedar-scented air, polished wood, everything should have felt grounding, safe. But it didn’t.

“I’ve been thinking about your future,” he began, folding his hands over the desk. “And I believe it’s time we make some arrangements.” I stared at him. The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

“I’ve found someone suitable,” he continued, as if reading from a script. “He comes from a reputable family, stable, capable… a man who can provide for you and protect you.”

I felt my throat tighten. “Provide? Protect?” I whispered. “Dad… I’m twenty-five. I can provide for myself. I don’t need protection.”

His gaze didn’t waver. “I know you can handle yourself, Rose. But this is about more than capability. It’s about ensuring you’re secure, that your life is set on the right path.”

I laughed a bitter, dry sound. “The right path? You barely even see me. You’ve moved on in less than a month. How is this fair? How can you plan my life when you’ve already built a family,with a daughter my age ?”

He leaned back in his chair, a flicker of regret passing over his features before it disappeared. “This isn’t about fairness. It’s about responsibility. You must understand that sometimes the decisions made for us are bigger than us. You’ll see that one day.”

I shook my head, anger and disbelief coursing through me. “I don’t want to see it, Dad. I don’t want a life planned for me by someone who treats my mother’s memory like a shadow to step over.”

He remained silent for a moment. And I realized just how much he had changed. The man who once promised he’d always protect me, who had laughed with me in the garden, who had been my anchor, he was gone. Replaced by someone I barely recognized.

After the meeting, I left the study feeling hollow. I wandered through the house, noting every detail, every sound, every reminder that this was no longer my home. Melissa’s presence was everywhere, in the curtains, the scent of her perfume lingering in the air, the way my father’s eyes softened whenever he looked at her.

I escaped into the garden, the roses in full bloom. The same roses my mother had loved, soft and fragrant, but now, instead of comfort, they reminded me of absence. I traced my fingers over the petals, closing my eyes, imagining Mom’s voice: “Rosie, you are brave. You can face this.”

But I didn’t feel brave. I felt powerless, cast aside, like I was no longer part of my own life.

I walked along the marble paths, my heels clicking softly, echoing through the empty space around me. I remembered the afternoons spent with my mother here, her hand warm in mine, the sun soft on our shoulders. How could he move on so fast? How could he create a new life, laugh like nothing had changed, when my world had fallen apart?

The wind stirred the leaves, brushing against my face. I pretended it was her hand, guiding me, giving me courage. For a moment, I let myself imagine her there, whispering words I hadn’t heard in weeks.

At dinner that evening, my father’s favoritism hit me like a wave. He looked at Melissa’s daughter and smiled warmly.

“You’ve been doing very well in your projects,” he said. “I want you to take on a more crucial position in the company. You’ll have full control over your department, and I trust you to make the right decisions.”

He looked at her again, the same warm, encouraging smile. “And remember, you can get married whenever you want. I will support every decision you make.”

I felt my stomach twist. Every word was a reminder of how differently he treated us . I felt invisible, disregarded, like my own life and choices didn’t matter.

The laughter and cheer of the evening felt suffocating, and I realized something important: I am more like an orphan now. From this point on, I’ll rely only on myself. My father won’t get a single benefit or a dime from me, he’s lost that right the moment he stopped caring. In my heart, I’ve already disowned him. It hurts to admit it, but sometimes letting go of someone who should’ve loved you is the only way to protect what’s left of you.