"Yeah." Oakley Ponciano lifted her gaze slightly, lashes barely parting. "You actually guessed it."
"Well, with the way you worded it just now, if I still couldn't figure it out—" Grace Barron's lips curved in a faint smile, her movements relaxed as she lifted a hand and lightly tapped her temple, "—it'd mean my brain isn't working too well. And in that case, you wouldn't have found me worth your time, would you?"
Oakley shot her a sidelong glance, her tone carrying a faint, almost teasing scold. "Are you… indirectly complimenting yourself for being smart?"
Grace tilted her chin ever so slightly. "I'm complimenting your good taste."
Such a sly way to twist the point.
In that moment, Oakley suddenly understood why Grace was so good at drawing people in.
Even someone like her—someone who prided herself on being a "no-nonsense straight girl," who never lingered on sapphic videos, had no interest in the "genius queens" adored by the public, and usually only clicked on short clips of charming young men showing off—could find herself, little by little, pulled toward Grace, breaking her own rules.
She had almost forgotten she once held a bias against Grace. She also forgot the rule she'd set for herself: marriage wasn't a small matter. She had to understand at least seventy to eighty percent of the other person before she decides.
And yet here she was—knowing only a fraction about Grace, not even sure if it was real understanding or just what she thought she knew—and she had already rushed to make a decision.
As they walked, Grace looked up and realized they had arrived at the restaurant. She checked the queue on the app and said, "Looks like we're up next. Let's go in."
"Sure."
Grace took out the little ticket and stepped inside. A server led them to a window seat.
The place had a clean, understated decor—nothing flashy, just neat and elegant. The menu, however, was playful and surprising, full of dishes rarely seen outside the region, each one tempting enough to make you want to try.
They ordered a wild mushroom stir-fry platter to share, a green mango shrimp salad, sautéed river greens, and a slow-simmered pork-and-potato stew. Grace shut the menu and handed back to the server, as the server turned to go, she suddenly said, "Wait a second."
The server, dressed in black work clothes, paused and turned back, polite curiosity in her eyes. "Yes, miss? Anything else?"
Grace shook her head slightly. "Nothing else—just please go light on the garlic, skip the scallions, and cut down on the chili."
The server smiled. "Of course."
Across from her, Oakley's hands rested loosely on the table. At Grace's instructions, the corners of her brows lifted just slightly, touched by an unspoken warmth.
Once the server left, she adjusted the collar of her blouse and looked at Grace. "What a coincidence—your tastes are almost the same as mine. I'm not into those things either."
It was a good sign. For Oakley, food was a big part of life. Even when making friends, she preferred those with similar tastes—otherwise, it was exhausting. with the ones who said, "I'm easy, anything's fine," then only to pick at their food once it arrived. No matter how nice such people were, or how accomplished, she found it unbearable.
Grace set out a pair of chopsticks and slowly poured hot tea into the bowls to rinse them. "No, I eat everything. Nothing's off-limits."
Oakley blinked. "Then why did you just flag all that with the server…?"
Grace slid the rinsed bowl toward her and began preparing another. "If I'm remembering right, when we chatted before, the topic of eating habits came up. You said you didn't like those things."
Oakley's fingers laced together, a small press of gratitude. "You remembered that?"
She couldn't even recall exactly when they'd had that conversation, yet Grace had stored away this small detail. Friends she'd known for years often forgot her preferences, but Grace—someone she'd only known for half a month—had remembered.
It was… hard not to feel something move inside.
Grace poured out the hot tea from her own bowl and looked at her. "I've got a pretty good memory."
"That's impressive." Oakley smiled despite herself. "Do you carry around a little notebook or something? Jotting things down as they happen?"
Compared to Grace, she felt a pinch of inadequacy. She wasn't the most attentive person, often overlooking details. Even if she'd walked the same street hundreds of times, she could never remember the names of shops that didn't catch her interest.
"How could I?" Grace lifted a hand to her chest, her gaze steady. "I keep it here—remember it with my heart."
Alright then. Oakley busied herself with her nails, unable to stop smiling.
A little while later, the dishes arrived, one after another.
Grace thanked the server, then, as she picked up her chopsticks, said, "By the way, even though you've agreed to marry me, I should tell you about my family."
Some things needed to be made clear— Consequences, leverage—the other person had a right to know.
Oakley nodded. "Go ahead."
"My family's doing fine financially," Grace began plainly, "but like that fortune-teller said before, I'm not my parents' biological child. I have a younger sister, and she is."
"So what?" Oakley didn't seem to think this was anything significant.
Grace continued, "It brings a lot of complications. I just want you to be sure."
"Oh." Oakley took a sip of water, her expression calm. She set the glass down and lightly traced her brow with a fingertip. "And then?"
"I just think you should know," Grace said.
Oakley laughed, the movement sending ripples shimmering through the tea in her cup.
"Let me tell you something," she said, easy as ever. "I don't really care about that."
For her, the most important thing was whether she felt comfortable with the person across from her. Everything else came second. If she wasn't comfortable, life would feel like a long, unbearable punishment.
Grace smiled, thinking Oakley really was quite pure-hearted.
If she were truly a person with a polished façade but a ruthless heart, Oakley might be in trouble.
"Do you think your parents will agree to us?" Grace asked.
Oakley smiled. "Has there ever been anything I wanted that they wouldn't give me? Especially marriage. My mom says what matters most is that I like the person. Everything else is secondary."
A true little princess, doted on by her whole family.
Grace couldn't quite imagine what that kind of life felt like—but she thought, it must be wonderful.
She considered. "To be safe, should I meet your parents?"
Oakley unlocked her phone. "Of course. But they're abroad right now, dealing with something. Won't be back for a couple months. No problem though—it's the internet age. We can video call."
The fortune-teller had told her to marry quickly, and now she just wanted to get it settled.
Grace nodded. "That works."
"What about your side?" Oakley asked. "Shouldn't I meet your parents?"
Grace smiled. "On my side, I just have to tell them, then make my own decision."
"They… don't care?" Oakley asked, puzzled.
Grace shook her head. "They have only one requirement: the other person can't be too poor. Doesn't matter if they're man, woman, beautiful, or plain."
Oakley frowned slightly. "Feels like our situations are the same, but not."
Same, in that neither was micromanaged. Different, in the reasons behind it.
Grace met her eyes and, after a pause, smiled faintly. "That's because your parents aren't really 'not controlling you.' They just don't overstep, out of love. My parents… they genuinely can't be bothered. Their starting point is indifference."
Oakley understood, watching Grace's calm face with a complicated expression. "Can I ask you something personal?"
It was a question she'd wanted to ask back when they saw the fortune-teller, but it had felt rude, so she'd held back.
"Ask," Grace said.
"Doesn't it make you sad? That they treat you like that?"
Grace shook her head. "No."
And she wasn't lying.
In her childhood, she had once longed—desperately—that she might be loved as equally as her younger sister, and would throw loud, tearful tantrums over it.
But then came the day her father pointed a finger at her and said, "What do you think you are, to dare compete with your sister for anything?" That night, she cried herself hollow until dawn, and when she rose the next morning, something inside her had gone numb.
It was only much later that she understood—she had quietly, instinctively walled off her emotions toward them. She didn't know how long the barricade had been there—ten years, maybe more. In all that time, nothing they said or did stirred even the smallest ripple in her. Talking about it with others cost her no effort.
It was as if she were watching the whole story from some godlike vantage point, and, over the years, it became no different from watching another family's drama unfold.
"All right," Oakley said at last, dropping the subject.
A little while later, after finishing their meal, they each reached out to their families, making the matter officially settled.
By then the food was nearly gone. Grace paid the bill and led Oakley back into the city.
After getting out of the car, Grace paused only long enough to buy a cup of fresh-cut fruit from a street stall—yet the wall of heat rushing toward them wrapped her in a stifling layer of steam.
It was so unbearably hot that Grace rolled her sleeves up past her elbows and undid a button for relief, leaving the elegant line of her collarbone to show faintly beneath the open neckline.
Back in the room, Oakley turned her head and caught sight of Grace's sharp, clean jawline and her lips—thin, precise, and… distracting.
A subtle ripple stirred in her chest before she quickly turned away, filling the kettle to brew a pot of floral tea, hoping it might soothe the heat rising in her.
Grace, meanwhile, was leaning back against the bed, thumbing replies to her messages.
A moment later, Oakley returned with two cups—one for Grace, one for herself. "So," she asked casually, "should we… draw up a prenuptial agreement now?"
After all, this wasn't a marriage in the most traditional sense. Even for traditional ones, plenty of people signed them for safety's sake.
Grace set her tea aside, dug a laptop from her suitcase. "Sure. I'll draft it now. You can read it when I'm done—if you spot anything missing, we'll add it. Sound good?"
Oakley nodded. "Works for me."
So Grace got to work immediately, setting herself at the small table by the balcony, the glow of the screen reflecting in her steady eyes.
Oakley sipped her tea at a leisurely pace, occasionally admiring the apartment's décor or idly tapping at one of the silly games on her phone.
About forty minutes later, just as Oakley was fighting off a yawn, Grace hit the space bar and beckoned her over, turning the screen. "Done. Want to take a look?"
Oakley slid into the chair beside her, leaning in. She found Grace's draft surprisingly thorough.
"'Both parties to coordinate in keeping up appearances and treat each other's families with respect'—okay, no problem." She skimmed further. "'Post-marriage, both parties' personal freedoms to be respected; no interference of any kind in the other's private life'?"
She paused, raising a brow.
"Hm?" Grace looked up. "Something off?"
"Nothing." Oakley tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I mean—yes. It's good. You've covered everything. I don't think I need to add anything. Let's go with this."
"Alright." Grace saved the file, copied it to a USB stick, and pointed toward the door. "Let's get it printed and sign it?"
"Let's go." Oakley made an easy little 'OK' gesture.
Within twenty minutes they were at a print shop. Soon, two identical copies of the agreement lay on the counter.
After signing, Grace handed one to Oakley. As she scanned it again, her phone buzzed suddenly from inside her bag.
Oakley glanced at the screen, then looked up at Grace. "My mom says next Friday's a good day to get the license. You free?"
"I am," Grace said with a small nod, then met her eyes. "So… City Hall next Friday?"
Oakley crossed her arms loosely over her waist, propping her chin on her hand as she smiled. "Sounds good."
And as she watched Grace, her lips pressed together ever so slightly, she realized—
She was already a little excited and looking forward to life with Grace after the wedding.
She thought… it might, just maybe, be quite interesting, shouldn't it?