We both sat down, and he picked up his soup spoon and took a bite. Mrs. Chen, then appeared with the second course, a pan seared fish with vegetables.
"The presentation you gave today." Asher started. "demonstrated significant growth in your confidence. The way you handled their CFO's objections…"
"Was exactly what you demanded of me in the hallway." I finished. "We've already discussed my performance. Is there anything else about work you'd like to talk about, or can we address why we're actually sitting here?"
He picked up his wine glass, took a sip, then placed it down on the table.
"I'm not good at this." He said.
"At what?"
"Personal conversations. Discussing things that don't have clear data points or strategic objectives." He met my eyes.
Then he went quiet for a long moment, clearly struggling with something.
"Your MBA? You studied finance. Why that? You could have chosen marketing, management, any other major. Why finance?"
The question surprised me. In the two years of our marriage, he'd never asked about my education, my interests, anything about my life.
"I want to understand who you were before we married." He continued.
I studied him in the candlelight, trying to determine if this was genuine interest or just another deflection.
"It's complicated." I replied after studying his face a little.
"We have time."
I took a bite of the fish and tried to figure out where to start.
"My father's company was in manufacturing," I said. "Industrial components, it was profitable when I was growing up. He used to bring me to the office sometimes, when I was young. Before he decided daughters were only useful for strategic marriages."
Asher nodded, encouraging me to continue.
"I remember sitting in his office, watching him review spreadsheets. He'd explain the numbers to me. I found it fascinating. The way numbers told stories about the business, revealed patterns, predicted outcomes. Through high school, university. I took every business and finance course I could, told my parents I was studying art history or literature." I smiled bitterly. "They never questioned it. Never showed enough interest to ask what I was actually learning."
"So when you decided on the MBA." He interrupted. "Finance was the obvious choice."
"Actually, no." I took a sip of wine. "I did a course for jewellery designing first."
His eyebrows rose.
"Jewellery design?"
"I know. Completely different field." I smiled slightly at his surprise. "I've always loved jewelry, not just wearing it, but understanding how it's made. The craftsmanship, the way a welldesigned piece can transform how someone feels about themselves."
I gestured to the simple pearl earrings I wore.
"These were my grandmother's. She had incredible taste. I used to spend hours with her, learning about different stones, settings, design."
Asher looked at my earrings with his full interest now.
"I took design courses in university." I continued. "Learned about gemology, metalworking. I loved it."
"So why didn't you pursue it?"
The question was simple, but the answer was complicated.
"Because my father made it clear that designing jewellery was a hobby, not a career. Because he was already planning my marriage to someone who could benefit his business." I set down my fork. "So I chose finance. Because numbers don't lie. Because if I could prove I understood valuations maybe someone would take me seriously."
"A secret rebellion." Asher said with a small smile on his lips. "We have that in common."
I blinked in surprise.
"We do?"
For the first time in our entire marriage, Asher talked about himself. He shared personal information about himself with me.
"My father wanted a soldier. He built Wang Corporation through aggressive acquisitions, and crushing competitors. He saw business as a war with winners and losers."
He picked up his wine glass, and stared at it.
"He expected me to follow the same way. To attack, dominate, destroy anything that stood in my way. He groomed me for it my entire childhood. But I didn't see it that way. I saw business as a game of chess. You don't win chess by destroying every piece, you win by positioning, by controlling the board, by making your opponent's moves predictable."
He then looked at me.
"He thought I was soft, and is still kind of disappointed in me." He took a big sip of his wine.
"Asher..." I started, not sure what to say.
"We're both rebels." He said . "Both proving something to parents who underestimated us."
He covered my hand from his on the table.
"The difference is, you're still fighting, still trying to prove you're more than decorative. But Rysa…" his thumb brushed my knuckles. "…you already have. You've proven everything you set out to prove."
"Have I?" My voice was a whisper. "Or am I just proving it to you instead of to my father?"
His hand tightened on mine.
"Is that what you think? That I'm just another man you need to prove yourself to?"
"I don't know." I admitted. "Sometimes it feels like I'm finally being seen. And sometimes it feels like I'm performing for your approval instead of my father's."
He was quiet for a long moment, then he stood abruptly, releasing my hand.
"I need to show you something." He said.
He walked to the corner of the formal dining room, to a piece of furniture I'd noticed before but never really paid attention to. It was a beautiful antique chess set. The pieces were carved with jade and white marble. In my two years of living in this penthouse, I'd never seen anyone touch it.
Asher picked up the white king, examining it in the candlelight.
"Do you play?" He asked, not looking at me.
"Chess?" I asked. "A little. My grandmother taught me the basics, but I'm not…"
"Good enough?" He finally looked at me. "Let's find out."
He gestured to the chairs positioned on either side of the small table. I moved towards the chair, watched as he sat across from me and began setting up the pieces.
"Chess is how I understand the world. How I make sense of things that don't have easy answers." His eyes met mine. "Like us."
"So you want to explain our relationship through a chess game?"
"I want to show you how I think. How I process." He gestured to the white pieces in front of me. "You have white. First move advantage."
I stared at the board, then at him.
"Asher, I don't understand…"
"Trust me. By the end of this game, you'll understand."
I hesitated, then moved my king's pawn forward two squares. He immediately responded by moving his own king's pawn to mirror mine.
We began to play. And slowly, I started to understand what he was showing me. The game became a metaphor for our relationship, every move revealing something about how we saw each other, how we interacted.
Asher was aggressive, controlling the center of the board with bold moves. His knights advanced quickly, his bishops dominated diagonals. He played with confidence. It was how he'd approached our marriage, taking control, establishing rules, claiming me as his even as he kept me at distance.
I found myself playing defensively at first, protecting my king, castling early for safety. Setting up careful barriers. Just like I'd lived for two years, defensive, careful, protecting myself from hurt by being invisible.But as the game progressed, I started to see opportunities. Started to set subtle traps.
We played in silence our whole focus on the game. I could see him thinking several moves ahead, could see the calculation in his eyes. On move twelve, he took my queen. It was a blow that left me with less options. He looked up at me, clearly expecting surrender. Instead, I smiled faintly and moved a pawn.
"Check." I said .
His eyes snapped back to the board, seeing the threat. My bishop positioned three moves ago in what had looked like a defensive retreat now had a clear line to his king. For a few seconds, he just stared at the board. Then he laughed. He looked warm, and more like a human laughing.
"I underestimated you." He said, his eyes gleaming with respect. "Again. You sacrificed your queen deliberately, made me think I'd won while you were setting up the real attack."
"You taught me not to hesitate." I said. "But you didn't teach me not to misdirect."
He laughed and moved his king out of check, but his focus had shifted. The game continued, but now he was watching me as much as the board. Studying not just my pieces but my face, my reactions, and I did the same.
Five moves later, he positioned his knight.
"Checkmate." He said.
I stared at the board. My king had nowhere to go. His knight and queen worked together to eliminate all escape routes. He leaned back in his chair, a small smile was on his lips. But his triumph was short lived.
I reached across the board and placed my hand over his. The contact was electric. His hand was warm under mine.
"You win the game, Asher," I said, my voice steady even though my heart was beating fast. "But what is the prize?"
What did he win? What had any of this proven?
That he was a better chess player? We'd both known that before we started. What did he want his prize to be?