17. Simon
17
Simon
I’m standing by the bar, trying to relax and shake off the tension of the day. The reception is in full swing—music playing, guests laughing, glasses clinking—but all I can think about is Ella.
I haven’t been able to get her off my mind since last night. Since that kiss, since the way she let me touch her, let me hold her. There was something there. Something more than just the act we’re putting on for her family. But I can’t think about that now. I can’t let myself get lost in it, not when everything is so complicated.
But then I hear her voice.
It’s soft, but it cuts through the noise of the party, and I freeze.
“I don’t feel anything for him, Ava,” she says. I don’t know why, but those words hit me like a punch in the gut. “It’s all fake. Everything. This whole thing with Simon. It’s just to get my father off my back. He’s never going to believe that I’m doing this on my own, not without showing him that I’ve... I’ve got someone who can pretend to love me.”
I stand there, not moving, not breathing, my heart hammering in my chest. She doesn’t feel anything? Everything between us—the touch, the kisses, the way I’ve held her in my arms—is just some elaborate ruse?
I can’t process it.
I’ve been telling myself we’re just playing a part, that she’s just doing this for her family, but hearing her say it like that? It’s like a slap in the face.
Ava’s voice comes next, and it’s quieter, like she’s trying to tread carefully. “But you... you don’t seem like you’re faking anything.”
Ella’s voice drops lower, and I strain to hear her. “I know. And I hate myself for it. But it’s just easier this way. If I keep pretending, if I make it real for everyone else, maybe my father will finally stop trying to control me, stop forcing me into his world.”
I can barely stand still anymore. Every part of me is screaming to confront her, to demand answers, but I can’t. Not with her father still hovering around, watching me like a hawk. I can feel the anger rising in me, the hurt, but I swallow it down, trying to keep my cool.
I’ve been playing the part too, trying to make this fake relationship look real for her father’s sake. But now, it feels like it’s unraveling. Like I’ve been nothing more than a pawn in her game.
I wait for a moment, trying to control my emotions, but I can’t take it anymore. I turn and head straight for the table where Ella and Ava are talking. As I approach, I can see Ella’s face. She looks torn—like she doesn’t want to hurt me, but doesn’t know how to get out of this lie we’re living.
I can feel my jaw tighten as I step into their conversation. “Is this what you really think of me?” I ask, my voice low but steady. Ella looks up at me, and I see the flash of surprise in her eyes.
“Simon,” she starts, but I cut her off.
“Is this what this is? A game?” I take a step closer, my eyes locking onto hers. “I thought... I thought we had something real, Ella. You’re telling me it’s all just a lie ? Everything between us?”
She opens her mouth to respond, but before she can speak, her father appears. I don’t even see him approach, but there he is, standing behind us with that stern, calculating expression he always wears.
“Is there a problem here?” he asks, his voice cold, his gaze shifting between me and Ella.
Ella’s face pales. “No, Dad. Everything’s fine. Simon and I were just—”
But I don’t let her finish. I’m beyond trying to keep the peace now. I turn to face her father, the anger bubbling to the surface.
“I thought I was doing you a favor,” I say, my voice hard, each word clipped with tension. “I thought I was here to help your daughter, to protect her. But it’s clear now that you don’t really care what’s happening, do you? All you care about is controlling her life, controlling everything she does.”
Her father’s eyes narrow, and I can see the shift in him—the way his posture stiffens, the way he steps closer to me. But I’m not backing down. I won’t.
“She’s not just your daughter, Mr. Williams,” I continue, my voice rising, “she’s her own person. She doesn’t need you or me to tell her what she can or can’t do. She deserves better than this.”
“I know what she deserves,” her father snaps, his voice colder than ice. “I’ve spent my whole life providing for her. You think you know what’s best for her?”
I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself, but my patience is running thin. “I’m not trying to tell her what to do. I’m just trying to give her the space to be herself. But if you’re not going to support that, if you’re going to keep putting her in a box, then I’m not going to stand by and let you ruin her life.”
Ella looks between her father and me, her face pale, her lips trembling. I can see the internal conflict in her eyes, the way she’s torn between her family and the truth of what we’ve been pretending.
Her father’s eyes flick to her, then back to me. “You don’t get to speak to me like that,” he growls, his voice low and threatening. “I don’t care who you are or what you think. You’re nothing but a convenience to her, and that’s all you’ll ever be.”
I step closer, my body tense, my fists clenched at my sides. “That’s where you’re wrong. I’m not just some convenience , Mr. Williams. I’m here because I care about your daughter.”
Ella’s father looks like he’s about to say something else, but before he can get the words out, I turn to Ella. She’s standing there, frozen, watching us like she’s stuck in the middle of a war she never wanted to fight.
“Ella,” I say, my voice softening despite the anger still simmering inside me, “this isn’t just about your father. It’s about you, about us. You deserve more than this. You deserve someone who doesn’t make you pretend, someone who supports you.”
She takes a shaky breath, her eyes filling with tears as she looks between me and her father. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispers, her voice breaking. “I’m trying to please everyone, but I don’t know if I can keep pretending anymore.”
That’s when I realize—she’s not just caught between me and her father. She’s caught between her own dreams and the pressure to live up to the expectations placed on her. And no matter how hard I try, I can’t take that burden away from her.
But I can be here . I can be the one who shows her that she doesn’t have to pretend. She doesn’t have to do any of this alone.
I take her hand gently, my thumb brushing over her knuckles. “You don’t have to keep pretending, Ella. I’m not going anywhere.”
Her father’s voice cuts through the moment. “You’re both making a scene,” he says coldly. “I won’t have this nonsense at my daughter’s wedding.”
But I don’t care anymore. I’ve said what I needed to say.
“I’m not leaving,” I tell him, my voice low but resolute. “Not until she’s ready to make her own decisions.”
Ella looks up at me, and for the first time, I see a flicker of hope in her eyes—a hint that she’s ready to let go of the weight of all the expectations. She squeezes my hand, and for that moment, everything feels like it might be okay.
But I know it’s not over. The fight for her freedom has just begun.