Just when they thought they'd both closed the whole chapter of granting interviews to stir the narratives in their favor and had put an end to the whole shenanigans, and in the clear.
Ava came in, strutting in cheerfully, while they were at breakfast.
"Three simple beats," Ava had said, handing Ashley and Julian, a half-day itinerary like a love story with timestamps.
"Coffee - kindness - culture. Photos will do the heavy lifting.
No speeches. No comments, today. Just… be what you're not right now." She said as she pulled her two hands together, signaling them to come together, lean into each other like couples would do normally.
They both managed to come together awkwardly, at the breakfast table. It was painful to watch, even for Ava.
Julian protested, " Are all these necessary though, I really do not have the time for all these curated fake experiences."
"Well, you shouldn't have gone the unconventional route, if you didn't have the time for a little image laundering" Ava fired back at him.
All he managed to respond back was, "touche" and that was his cue to shut up.
They'd been told all the pictures taken were for optics. There were change of clothes and minor make-up adjustments for her. The pictures were supposed to be released instalmentally on their public accounts.
Ashley just wanted to be done with this phase.
They'd thought they'd outsmarted the blackmailer by staying married and getting the contract. Who would have guessed they'd go this far just to soil their images.
Her mind circled back to the piece of clue her father had dug up and suddenly remembered Julian hadn't given her any feedback. She casually wondered if he'd discovered who it was and kept it a secret from her, since it was his family member. She discarded the thought aside, like an old rag. There was only one way for her to know. She was certain that the blackmailer was close and could be the key to exposing the master mind behind Stonehenge.
10:05 a.m. - Corner Coffee.
The bell over the door gave them a small, delighted jingle. The barista did a double take and tried very hard to pretend he hadn't recognised them. Julian ordered black coffee and remembered the tip jar, like he'd been raised. Ashley asked for something with cardamom because she wanted to taste a decision that didn't come with a board vote.
"Table or window?" he asked.
"Window," she said, and slid into the chair, sunglasses off. If they were going to do this, they were going to do it with their full faces.
They didn't touch their phones.
Not a rule, an agreement. Ashley told him about the apple tree that kept outliving winters in her parents' yard, he told her about a disastrous childhood sailing lesson where the wind had almost swept them away. When two teenagers approached for a picture, Julian didn't stiffen. He stood, asked their names, and took the selfie himself, so it wouldn't be weird. The internet would later caption the photo for the teenagers.
11:20 a.m. - Community Kitchen.
Aprons. Heat. Steam that smelled like cumin and cilantro. Ashley chopped onions with fast, angry competence and didn't cry, Julian learned to ladle soup without acting like he was new to this.
"Newlyweds?" an older volunteer asked, delighted and nosy.
"Yes," Ashley said, and didn't look at him for confirmation.
"Married where?" the woman pressed.
Ashley smiled. "In a city made for bad decisions. We brought our good ones home."
The woman cackled, then hugged her like approval. Cameras somewhere near the door clicked politely.
12:40 p.m. The Candid Room, 1:40 p.m Sunrise park and on and on it went till 4pm. That was when they finally had their time to themselves again.
They were relieved. They took a stroll together. No handlers, no umbrella choreography. When he offered his arm, she took it because it was there, not because a camera wanted her to. A man with a microphone tried to ambush them with a question about "related-party this" and "governance that", Julian didn't break stride.
"Have a good afternoon." He said firmly, refusing to be baited.
Ashley's mouth tipped. "You're good at this."
"I had an excellent teacher," he said.
"Ava?" she teased.
"You," he said, and they both laughed it off.
They stopped at a street cart for ice cream because, according to Ava, " humans eating food, softens headlines." Ashley picked pistachio with extra pistachio, Julian chose vanilla and defended it with a speech so persuasive the vendor gave him a free spoon.
A breeze lifted.
The day decided to be kind for a few minutes. Somewhere, the internet captioned an overhead shot with the caption, 'they look like a choice you can live with' and the comments did not fight about it.
On the ride home, they didn't talk about strategies. They compared childhood scars and favorite library smells and the exact point a shower turns perfect. He rested two fingers on her knee, absent-minded, like a habit that had always been there. She watched the hand and did not move it off.
They agreed on nothing of consequence and everything that mattered.
When the car turned through the gates, Julian's phone buzzed, There was one message from Camila. Dinner tonight? Just us, family. He set the screen facedown. Ashley watched the motion and waited.
" Camila wants a family dinner. I'm declining."
" Why? because of me?" she asked. God knew she wasn't up to any of his family's dinner, not for a long time. She'd had her fair share of them these past few days, and she could say for a fact, they were better taken in doses.
"Because it's not 'family only' if it excludes my wife."
He said wife like a word he'd decided to keep after all. She let herself feel that for the length of the driveway.
"Thank you," she said.
"For what?"
"For letting a day be a day."
He smiled then, small, tired, and very real. "We can have more than one."
Outside, a drone hesitated and drifted away when security waved it off. Inside, their phones began to fill with photos of them being ordinary on purpose.
Them on the couch, socks, a movie half-watched, her feet under his thigh, his hand doing nothing but existing where she could find it. Public practice had felt suspiciously like life.
Neither Ashley nor Julian sensed it, somewhere far away from their laughter and contentment, was fury gnawing at the first leaked photos like a gathering storm, weaving a tempest meant to shatter and tear out their fragile peace by the roots.