Judith
I couldn't help but feel good because Mel had listened to me and, on top of that, had given me a really good idea. She was right: I needed to talk to my parents to get everything off my chest. I was surprised at how easy it had been to open up to her, when I hadn't even done so with Amber. Maybe it was because our relationship wasn't exactly fine, and the disaster of the arranged marriage had us both so tense. That's why I couldn't hold back any longer and ended up venting all my frustration to Mel. And, to my relief, not only did she listen, but she did it in such a compassionate, kind, and empathetic way.
That night, for the first time in months, I managed to sleep without the weight pressing on my chest. I allowed myself to sink into a deep and pleasant sleep—so pleasant that I didn't want to wake up, even though I knew I had to.
In the middle of waking up, I felt something warm on my face, on my hands, even across my entire body. I opened my eyes slowly and saw Mel beside me.
"What…?" I sat up abruptly, startled. "What are you doing on my side?!" I shouted, still confused.
Mel immediately sat up as well, equally surprised by my outburst. She looked at me, completely confused.
"What are you talking about?" she asked, taking off her face mask.
"You crossed over to my side!" I accused her firmly.
She looked at the bed, then back at me, calm.
"I didn't cross to your side. Look where you are," she said gently, gesturing around us.
I examined the bed carefully and realized what had happened: the one who had crossed the small pillow barrier was me. I froze, trying to remember when during the night I had done it, but nothing came to mind. Perhaps I had moved without realizing it while in a deep sleep.
"I… I'm sorry, I don't know when…" I stammered awkwardly.
"It's okay," she said, brushing it off. "Now I'm awake, I feel much better, and I'm starving," she added, stretching.
Her blouse rode up slightly, revealing a bit of her toned abdomen. Instinctively, I turned away, trying not to stare too much, but Mel noticed.
"Judith, can I ask you something?" she said, curiosity threading her voice.
"Yes, of course, go ahead," I replied, still avoiding direct eye contact.
"Why do you blush so much?" she asked directly.
Her question caught me completely off guard, and I quickly turned to look at her.
"This is the second time you've blushed," she reminded me, her tone a mix of curiosity and mischief.
I didn't know if it was simple interest or genuine concern. Maybe she didn't realize because it wasn't common for her, or perhaps because she had never felt anything like this for anyone. Honestly, I didn't know. And with all of that in my mind, without overthinking it, the words just slipped out.
"Because you're a woman, it's normal for me to feel nervous around you…" I said, feeling my words sounded awkward even to me.
"Why?" she interrupted, with a gesture blending curiosity and slight irritation.
"Because… it's uncomfortable," I said without thinking, letting the most awkward honesty guide me.
"Do I make you uncomfortable?" Her voice sounded hurt, and her gaze pierced through me.
"No, don't get me wrong, it's complicated…" I tried to explain, but my clumsiness created more distance than there already was.
"It's okay," she interrupted this time. "It's better if we go down to have breakfast," she said, getting up from the bed decisively.
She picked up a set of sports clothes and headed to the bathroom to change.
What an idiot you are, I scolded myself mentally. I had ruined it with my words. That's not what I meant to say; it wasn't that she made me uncomfortable—rather, any situation like this with anyone would make me awkward and embarrassed. Double-meaning comments, or just seeing her training, were enough to make me feel shy, not to mention it was wrong because I love someone else.
Mel quickly finished in the bathroom to let me in, and waited patiently for us to go down to breakfast together. We ate in silence; she didn't seem angry or uncomfortable, but I couldn't bear the tension that had enveloped us since morning. Just as I was about to say something, she beat me to it:
"I'm going for a run, I'll be back in about two hours," she informed me, putting on headphones she pulled from her pocket.
I nodded automatically as she walked away. More than two hours passed, and she still hadn't returned. After three, I went to Nicholas to ask if he knew where my wife was. Slightly confused, he told me she was in the gym area. I headed there and found her running on the treadmill, sweaty and breathing heavily.
Without warning, she turned her head toward me.
"Judith, what's going on?" I asked as she stopped running and stepped off the treadmill.
"We should continue with the questions tomorrow, it's dinner with your grandfather," I reminded her, trying to restore normalcy.
"Yes, of course. Just let me see if I've finished," she looked at her watch. "Looks like I've done 30 minutes, so I'll go take a shower and meet you in the west wing in the area of…"
"We'll talk better in the room," I interrupted her.
"Alright," she said hesitantly. "Then let's go," she asked me, walking out of the room.
I waited patiently while she took a shower, though with a knot in my stomach, wondering how I should apologize to her.
"Okay, I'm ready…" she said as she stepped out of the bathroom.
"I'm sorry," I said, stepping forward to apologize.
"Why are you apologizing?" she asked, confused, not understanding my nerves, while a small smile appeared on her face.
I felt I needed to find the right words to explain what I really meant.
"For what I said this morning," I reminded her, "I was rude, and I understand if you're upset with me for—"
"I'm not angry," she quickly corrected me. "Well, I guess it must be awkward being with someone as pretty and sexy as me," she laughed.
I smiled, surprised; I didn't know she could have that kind of sense of humor.
"Judith, it's okay, you don't need to feel uncomfortable around me. You know, what if we forget that we're married and the pressure from my grandfather is on us," she suggested, smiling playfully. "And besides, you forget that I'm pretty and sexy. We could just be friends," she sincerely offered. "What do you say?"
I nodded and smiled at her.
"Yes, I'd love that," I accepted.
"Good. Believe it or not, I have friends, so you won't have to teach me anything about having friendships. I should say that my only problem is in a romantic sense," she warned me.
Those simple words made me feel relieved, but at the same time a bit silly. How could I have felt uncomfortable around her, or even thought I might be?
"Now that we're friends, I'd say it's my turn to interrogate you," she said, smiling playfully.
"You're going to interrogate me, after I just asked you questions?" I complained.
"No, no. I'll do what you did to me—you interrogated me," she raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms.
"That's a blatant lie," I excused myself, then laughed.
Mel asked me so many questions, almost like an interrogation. We talked all day in the room, even while eating in the dining room. Mel burst out laughing when she discovered that when I went to protests, I had to go disguised—but literally in Spider-Man or Batman costumes, because they represented justice and also hid my identity. Between laughs and stories, we forgot to request the couch.
So, another night we would have to sleep in the same bed, but this time I would sleep with my head where my feet normally went. The closeness with Mel, though temporary, was starting to feel less awkward and more familiar. For the first time in a long while, I felt like I could relax a little, enjoy someone's company without romantic expectations—just genuine friendship and shared laughter.
The next morning, I was the first to wake up, but what I discovered felt like a cruel joke from fate: I was hugging Mel's feet. This time, I didn't startle, though it was clear that, once again, I had crossed the pillow barrier we had set between us. Not only had I crossed it—I was touching her.
I mentally scolded myself, trying to understand why I was doing this. The answer hit me immediately when, without warning, Amber's image filled my mind. I missed her too much. For more than a year, I had been sleeping wrapped around her, and my body had grown used to her warmth, her breathing, the security she gave me. It was only natural, then, that in the middle of the night, I unconsciously sought her—even if it was in Mel's body.
"Judith, are you okay?" Mel asked, her concern evident.
I don't know when I started crying. I only realized it when the tears kept streaming down my cheeks. I tried clumsily to wipe them away, but it was useless. Then I felt something warm enveloping me: Mel's arms around me. And as if I had suddenly turned into a little girl, I cried harder against her chest. She said nothing, just held me patiently, and I poured into her embrace everything I had been holding inside. Minutes later, exhausted and with swollen eyes, I fell asleep in her arms.
....................
Mel
"Shouldn't you wake your wife so she can eat something?" Sheldon asked cautiously.
"I'll let her sleep a little longer," I replied, unmotivated.
"Remember, today's dinner is with your grandfather," he reminded me.
"Yes, I know, Sheldon…" I sighed. "I feel bad for her. I can't even fully understand what she's feeling right now. Judith already loves someone, and all this pain she's feeling is because of my grandfather's whim…" I spoke angrily before falling silent, helplessness weighing on my chest.
"Mel, I'm just going to ask one thing," Sheldon said seriously, "don't be so you."
"Excuse me?" I asked, confused.
"What you heard. Don't overdo it: don't be overly empathetic, don't try to fill every silence with details or gestures just to make her smile."
"And what's wrong with wanting my friend to feel good?" I asked, annoyed, frowning.
"There's nothing wrong with that, but sometimes it's enough to simply be. Just accompany her, that's all."
"That's what I'm doing," I defended myself immediately.
"No, you're not, Mel. Your actions seem more romantic than supportive. Or do you want me to remind you what happened with Jade?"
Her name hit me like a stone.
"I don't see what Jade has to do with all this," I said, my voice heavy with anger.
"She fell in love with you," Sheldon replied, frustrated.
"It was never my intention for her to fall in love with me," I defended myself.
"Maybe you didn't plan it, but your actions said otherwise. Even I thought you might have feelings for her," he said, tired.
"I was just trying to distract her, that's all…"
"Distract her, Mel? No! You took her to the Bahamas on your damn yacht, then brought her, like it was a date, to Disney. But what really confused her wasn't the trip itself—it was that you held her hand the entire damn time," Sheldon reminded me firmly. "Not to mention how affectionate you were with her. So this time, don't do that. Don't be so you," he requested, with an almost paternal gesture.
I let out a sigh, ready to remind him of something he seemed to forget.
"Sheldon, hypothetically, if I behaved as 'me' as you say… I should remind you that Judith already loves someone."
"Mel Castle," he interrupted, standing abruptly. "Listen to me very carefully: if you don't want me to tell your grandfather what you're doing with Judith, you'll obey me. Because the last thing we need right now is another problem," he said sternly.
"Are you threatening me, Sheldon?" I asked, incredulous.
"Yes," he assured without hesitation. "I do it for your own good. I don't want, in a few months, your wife confused between choosing you or her fiancée." His tone was grave, almost prophetic.
I raised my eyebrows before bursting into laughter.
"Sheldon, you're exaggerating," I said, holding a hand to my stomach, unable to contain my laughter. "She loves Amber. Why would Judith be confused?" I continued, mocking his concern.
"Because, believe it or not, for some people, the attention they receive is attractive. If someone makes them feel good, they can get confused… and in some cases, even fall in love," he explained seriously.
I stared at him for a few seconds, in silence. It was in situations like this that I hated not having what everyone else seemed to possess naturally: common sense in matters of the heart. I didn't understand how romantic dynamics worked, which gestures could be misinterpreted, which were signals of interest, and which were just expressions of affection. That invisible code that connected people intimately was like a foreign language to me.
Even so, something inside me refused to accept his words. I felt that, this time, what he was saying didn't make sense. Judith's heart was already taken, and I knew it for certain.
"That won't happen, Sheldon. And do you know why?" I looked at him firmly. "Because Judith loves Amber deeply. Or do you think she was crying less than three hours ago because the planet is polluted?" I said, obviously offended.
"You underestimate yourself too much, boss," he said ironically, crossing his arms. "You should ask for a large mirror to see yourself in it."
"I know I'm beautiful," I replied with a proud smile, "but not everything in life is about looks…"
"I know," he interrupted me calmly again. "You should pay attention to how you treat people, and then you'd understand why they call you 'the perfect girl.'" He raised an eyebrow, questioning me with his gaze.
"That won't happen," I repeated, convinced.
"I hope your stubbornness doesn't force me to speak to your grandfather," he warned, sitting back down.
I opened my mouth to reply, but he abruptly changed the subject:
"On Tuesday, you have a meeting with the partners…"
"Wait, wait," I interrupted, frowning. "I'm on vacation. How do I have a board meeting?"
"They called it a routine meeting," Sheldon informed me, shaking his head in clear annoyance.
"Are you telling me that what they really want is to know how my marriage is going…?" I asked, irritated.
"And they also want to know when you plan to give them an heir," he added bluntly, leaving me speechless.
I froze. This had to be a damn joke.
"I've only been married for six months!" I said, upset, as if that should be enough for them to stop tormenting me about it.
"The board wants to make sure of that. So you better come up with a convincing answer: something that will calm them, that will convince them you'll continue your marriage and, sooner or later, give them an heir," Sheldon firmly told me.
I got up from my chair, furious.
"This is complete bullshit!" I shouted, helplessness and frustration pounding my chest.
"By the way, you also have to convince your grandfather," Sheldon reminded me in a grave tone. "Now go get your wife, because in exactly two hours, you need to be with him at dinner."
"Damn it!" I shouted again as I stormed out of the study.
On the way, I tried to calm down. I couldn't approach Judith carrying that fury. I quietly opened the bedroom door, careful not to make a sound, and saw her still asleep. She had spent the whole day in bed without eating, and although I didn't want to wake her, I had no other choice.
I approached slowly, called her softly, and when she opened her eyes, I noticed the deep exhaustion in them. Still, I calmly reminded her that we needed to attend dinner with my grandfather. She only nodded silently and got up heavily to get dressed.
A few minutes later, we were on our way. I glanced at her from the corner of my eye: her face no longer showed tears, but she remained serious, distant. I knew that, although she appeared calm, inside she must feel just as broken as before, or perhaps worse.
Upon arrival, the tension at dinner was unbearable. You could cut it with a knife. My grandfather barely touched his food, and the silence grew more suffocating with each passing minute.
"Why aren't you even looking at the furniture for your residence?" he suddenly asked, showing his annoyance.
"I'm doing what you asked: getting to know my wife," I replied sharply, not hiding my displeasure.
"We'll see about that now," he retorted harshly. "I assume your wife already knows you have artistic skills, or am I wrong?" he asked, fixing his eyes directly on Judith.
She didn't answer immediately.
"She doesn't know," I intervened, answering on her behalf.
"Then give me a good explanation for why she doesn't know, if you're supposed to share your life together. Why haven't you told her yet?" he demanded imperiously, as if testing me in front of her.
I clenched my fists under the table. Nobody was supposed to know that secret, because he himself had demanded that I keep it hidden. I didn't understand why he was asking, since years earlier, when I confessed to him and my father that I wanted to be an artist, he had flatly refused to accept it.
I remember perfectly his severe gaze, the weight of his words falling on me like chains. Years later, when he caught me painting in secret, he coldly reminded me again that my destiny was to become the next CEO of the company. And that if I wanted to continue with that hobby, it was fine, as long as it didn't interfere with my "real responsibilities." And that I could do it only after assuming the presidency.
That phrase still echoed in my mind, as if it had been burned into me. Painting was more than a hobby; it was a part of my soul that refused to die. And yet, I had been forced to bury it beneath the mask of perfection I had built.
"Because I'm the CEO of the company. That's just a hobby that no one should know about," I replied, irritated, unable to hide my frustration.
"And you're okay with me keeping things from you?" my grandfather asked, hostile, addressing Judith directly.
She, still looking surprised by the argument, composed herself and answered calmly:
"I'll wait as long as necessary for him to tell me his secret. And if he doesn't want to, there must be a reason. So, to answer your question, Mr. Castle, no, it doesn't bother me that Mel doesn't want to tell me certain things."
I knew all of that was an act, a role Judith played to ease the tension at the table. Even so, I couldn't help silently thanking her for those words, which, in a way, defended me.
Memories began swirling in my mind. For as long as I could remember, I had always been involved in sports and physical activities. But when I was eight, my mother took me to an art class. At first, it seemed boring, even unnecessary, but I kept going. It was during my fourth class that I finally understood what art was and realized I enjoyed it. Two years later, I could already create paintings that amazed my teacher.
She encouraged me to continue, and with her support, I honed my talent. At fifteen, I had my first exhibition, and shortly after, I opened my own gallery. I did all of this alongside my mother, the only one who supported my dream.
When I told my grandfather, his response was cold and cutting: "That's a waste of time. Unless you want to starve, never study art." My father, a bit more compassionate but equally resigned, asked me to forget the idea because I was the family's heir.
And so I did. I locked away my dreams. I sold all my paintings and sculptures and closed my gallery. Though I occasionally continued creating in secret, that stopped when my grandfather discovered it. That day, he harshly scolded Sheldon for not disposing of everything that fueled that illusion. Reluctantly, he had to get rid of my materials and turn my studio into an empty room.
The day I assumed the presidency, I started painting again, convinced that my grandfather was already certain that dream had been buried. He wasn't entirely wrong: I only made sculptures and paintings to decorate my residences. And although it hurt, it was true that my art had been reduced to adorning walls and empty rooms.
It was frustrating when friends visited my homes and asked where I had bought my paintings. I always had to make up some excuse: that I saw them at a market, that they were by an unknown artist… I could never tell the truth.
To my family and society, it's fine to have a good eye for art, but creating it is never allowed. Artistic talent, for them, was a threat: proof that I could abandon the role I was born for. And in my case, the role of heir did not allow distractions.
While my grandfather continued interrogating Judith, I barely paid attention. I only stayed alert in case he asked a hostile question that forced me to intervene. Fortunately, it wasn't necessary. She answered firmly, and there was no need for me to speak again during the entire dinner.
At the end, we said our goodbyes. I did so seriously, and he maintained his unyielding stance. The ride home was filled with prolonged silence: Sheldon focused on the road, Judith gazed out the window with a distant expression, and I was lost in thought, struggling with the echo of a dream I had never dared to claim.
I entered the mansion and, crossing the living room, told Judith I would get a head start with some errands and that she could go rest first. She looked at me incredulously, with that mixture of doubt and resignation, but in the end, she accepted without pressing further. I knew she didn't fully believe me, but I wasn't lying: I had to prepare a convincing speech for the Tuesday board meeting.
I spent about three hours immersed in papers, edits, and new ideas. I would get up, pace back and forth, sit again. I drafted multiple versions, tore them up, and started over, until finally, around three in the morning, I managed to structure a convincing speech. As soon as I finished, I sent it to Sheldon. He was probably already asleep, but I trusted that in the morning he would review it and tell me if it sounded credible.
Exhausted, I collapsed onto the study sofa. I closed my eyes for just a moment, and without realizing it, I fell asleep right there. The morning surprised me with rays of sunlight piercing through the curtains, hitting my face. I immediately turned away from the light, wishing for a few more minutes of sleep.