The Deal

The silence after Dad’s words felt like a thick blanket pressing down on all of us.

Mom’s eyes widened. She set her glass down slowly. “I thought we still had a few more months,” she said, her voice shaky. “I never knew it was already over.”

Dad didn’t answer right away. He just stared at the table like the weight of everything was crushing him. Elena kept scrolling on her phone, pretending not to care.

No one looked at me. But I felt it. That cold glance Dad gave me earlier. Something bad was coming.

After dinner, everyone went to bed like nothing had happened. The house grew quiet, except for the usual creaks in the old floors. I couldn’t sleep. Instead, I slipped up to the attic. The small lamp cast a warm glow on the dusty beams as I drew. My pencil moved fast, sketching a girl running through an open field, free. My hands shook a little. I tried to lose myself in the lines like I always did.

A knock sounded on the attic door.

“Sophie?” Marcus’s small voice called. “Daddy wants you in his room. Now.”

My stomach dropped. I dropped the painting and followed him downstairs. The hallway felt longer than usual. When I pushed open the door to my parents’ room, the air felt heavy. Mom sat on the edge of the bed. Dad stood by the window, arms crossed. The tension was so thick I could almost taste it.

“Sit down, Sophie,” Dad said.

I sat on the old wooden chair, my hands folded tightly in my lap. My heart beat hard against my ribs.

Mom started first, her voice soft and sweet. “Sophie, do you remember when we first brought you home? You were so small and scared. We loved you right away. We gave you a family when your real parents abandoned you.”

Dad nodded. “We treated you like our own. Hugs, birthdays, everything. You were our little miracle back then.”

I stayed quiet. I knew this wasn’t real kindness. They only talked like this when they wanted something.

“You’ve always been such a good, strong girl,” Mom continued, reaching over to pat my knee. “We’re so grateful for everything you do around the house.”

Dad cleared his throat. “That’s why we know you’ll understand what we’re about to ask. The restaurant is in trouble. We took a debt we are unable to pay back. And the interest is bigger than we can handle. But there’s a way out.”

He paused, then dropped it on me.

“You’ll marry Arthur Martins, the son of Oliver Martins. His family holds the loan. This marriage will clear everything and save the restaurant.”

The words hit me like cold water. I stared at them, my mouth dry. “Marry? Me? I… I don’t even know him.”

Mom smiled like she was explaining something simple. “It’s the only way, sweetheart. His family wants this alliance. It will bring money, connections, and everything we need.”

I shook my head, my voice rising. “No. I can’t. I’m not ready for marriage. And why me? Why not Elena? She’s your real daughter, you could use it to get real connections don't you think?”

Dad’s face hardened. “Elena is too young. Too delicate for that kind of life. You’re older. Stronger. You’ve always been the practical one.”

“Practical?” I let out a bitter laugh. “You mean the one you can sacrifice.”

Mom’s hand tightened on my knee. “Don’t talk like that. We took you in when no one else wanted you. You owe this family, Sophie. Don’t be selfish.”

The sweet words disappeared fast. Dad stepped closer, his voice low and firm. “This isn’t up for discussion. The Oliver family is coming tomorrow. You will agree. You will smile. And you will do what’s necessary. End of story.”

The room felt smaller. I nodded slowly, tears burning in my eyes, but I held them back. What choice did I have?

They sent me out after that. I walked to my small room like a ghost, closed the door, and finally let the tears fall. I cried into my pillow until it was soaked. This was my life? Being sold to clear debts?

The next morning came too fast. I barely slept. The house was buzzing with nervous energy. Mom cleaned everything twice. Elena wore her best dress. Marcus ran around excitedly. Mom came into my room later and told me to dress up. Wear something nice and look presentable.

Then the Oliver family arrived.

Mr. Oliver Martins was tall and serious, sharp eyes with grey hair. His wife looked elegant and quiet. And then there was Arthur. He was taller than I expected, with dark hair and a strong jaw. I hated to admit it, but he looked attractive. Still, my chest felt tight. I didn’t love him. I didn’t even know him.

Before the main talk, Dad pulled Mr. Martins aside into the kitchen. They spoke in low voices for a few minutes. When they came back, Mr. Martins looked satisfied.

We all sat in the living room. Dad started explaining the situation. The debt. The restaurant. The solution.

When they mentioned the marriage, Arthur shot up from his seat.

“What?” he snapped, his voice full of anger. “You’re deciding this for me?”

His father gave him a sharp look. “Sit down, Arthur.”

Arthur stayed standing for a moment, fists clenched. The tension in the room was electric. After a long, heated argument between him and his parents, he finally sat. His jaw was tight, but he didn’t fight anymore.

I sat there the whole time, silent. I wanted to speak. To say I didn’t want this. But the words stuck in my throat. It felt like I was being sold in front of everyone. Like a piece of furniture to clear a debt.

They brought out papers. I signed where they told me. My hand shook as I wrote my name. In return, they handed over documents saying the Millers’ debt was cleared. Dad smiled.

The wedding was set for just a few days from now. Everything was moving too fast.

Later that night after Oliver's family had left, I locked myself in my room. I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the wall. My mind raced.

How do I get out of this?

I thought about running away. Packing a small bag tonight and slipping out before sunrise. But where would I go? I had no money, no real friends, just a few saved coins from returning bottles. The orphanage? They probably wouldn’t take me back, I'm no longer a kid. And what if the Olivers came after me?

I stood up and paced. My sketchpad lay on the table. I flipped through it, looking at all the drawings of free, happy girls. Tears blurred my vision again.

Who could I call? No one. There was no one on my side.

The wedding was so close. A few days. I felt trapped, like a bird in a cage with the door locked.