Contract Marriage After a Crazy Night

Chapter 171: ~ 171

Chapter 171

~ Octavia ~

Yes. I had made a mistake.

The moment I stepped into my parents’ apartment using my spare key, the quiet domestic scene before me only deepened the guilt twisting in my chest. My father sat on the couch, eyes fixed on the late-night news flickering across the television screen. My mother was curled beside him, fast asleep, her head resting trustingly on his shoulder, a soft blanket draped over her body like a protective shield.

I slipped off my coat, the fabric whispering against my skin, and forced a small smile. "Hey, Dad."

He turned, lowering the volume with the remote. The sudden quiet stirred my mother awake. She blinked sleepily, then offered me a warm, drowsy smile. "You’re back, honey."

"Yeah," I nodded, trying to keep my voice steady.

Dad leaned back, studying me. "So he actually listened to me and drove you back before midnight. Good man."

I only shrugged, unwilling to lie any more than I already had tonight.

Mom sat up slowly, adjusting the blanket. "How was the dinner, sweetheart?"

"It was... good," I lied, the word tasting bitter on my tongue. I forced another smile, hoping it reached my eyes.

She nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Alright, go get some rest. It’s late."

"I will," I murmured.

Mom rose to her feet, stretching slightly. "I’m heading to bed."

"I’ll join you soon," Dad said softly, his gaze still lingering on me with quiet concern.

"Alright, honey." She turned to me, her expression full of maternal warmth. "Goodnight, sweetheart."

"Goodnight, Mom." My voice came out softer than intended.

She disappeared into the master bedroom, the door clicking shut behind her.

I looked at my father. "Goodnight, Dad."

"Goodnight, my dear," he replied gently.

I headed down the hallway to my bedroom, closing the door behind me with a soft click. The silence that followed felt heavier than it should. A low, contented purr greeted me—Nola, my cat, was curled comfortably on my bed, her eyes half-closed in bliss. I sighed deeply, the weight of the evening pressing down on me.

My gaze drifted to the vanity table where Franklin’s letter still lay untouched, its crisp envelope mocking me with its unopened secrets. I walked over, picked it up, and stared at it for a long moment. My fingers traced the edges but I couldn’t bring myself to open it. Not tonight.

Memories from Clinton’s apartment flooded back unbidden. The way he had looked at me—still so full of love, so raw and vulnerable. The quiet confession that his heart had never truly moved on. And then there was her... the other woman who clearly cherished him, who was ready to build something real with him. I had no right to feel conflicted, yet the emotions swirled inside me like a storm I couldn’t calm.

With another heavy sigh, I placed the letter back on the vanity. I needed to wash the night away. After a long, scalding shower and brushing my teeth, I crawled into bed, pulling the covers over me like armor. But sleep didn’t come easily. Disturbing thoughts chased each other through my mind until exhaustion finally claimed me.

---

The next morning, sunlight filtered gently through the curtains as my phone buzzed on the nightstand. It was a text from Victoria suggesting we meet for lunch during her work break. I quickly agreed, grateful for the distraction. Feeling a spark of energy, I jumped out of bed, dressed comfortably yet neatly, and made my way to the kitchen.

"Good morning," I greeted my parents, who were already seated at the dining table enjoying breakfast. ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom

"Good morning, honey," they replied in warm unison.

"Sleep well?" Dad asked, his eyes kind but observant.

"Yep, and now I’m starving," I said with a small laugh, sliding into my seat.

"Here you go, sweetheart." Mom placed a plate of fluffy pancakes in front of me, the aroma of maple syrup and butter instantly comforting.

"Thank you," I murmured, digging in with genuine appetite.

As I poured myself a glass of milk, I announced casually, "I’m meeting Victoria for lunch this afternoon."

"Okay, just be safe when you’re out," Mom said, ever the worrier.

Dad cleared his throat, exchanging a quick glance with my mother. "There’s something we want to talk to you about, Octavia."

Mom gave him a hesitant look, but he pressed on.

"Tell me what?" I asked, fork pausing mid-air, confusion knitting my brows.

"We’ve been thinking..." Dad began carefully, "that even after you fully recover, it might be best if you moved back in here permanently. So we can keep an eye on you."

"Why?" My frown deepened, a flicker of unease rising.

Mom leaned forward, her voice gentle but firm. "We’re just worried, honey. We’re scared that something might happen to you again when you’re away from us. Like that stair accident... the one that put you in a coma. We were terrified when we got the call. We don’t want to go through that again. That’s why we’ve decided it’s best for you to stay here with us." freewёbn૦νeɭ.com

I set my fork down slowly. "But I will recover soon, and then I’ll start working again. I can’t just—"

"We know," they said almost in unison.

"Look, Mom... Dad..." I took a deep breath, trying to sound calm and mature. "I understand you’re worried. I really do. But I’m not a child anymore. I’m an adult with my own life to live. I need to move out once I’m better. I’ll be fine, I promise. There’s nothing for you to worry about."

Dad opened his mouth to respond, but my phone suddenly rang, cutting through the tension. I glanced at the screen—an unknown number. Curious, and secretly relieved by the interruption, I excused myself.

"Excuse me," I said, standing and stepping a few paces away. "Hello?"

A formal male voice answered. "Good day, ma’am. Am I speaking to Octavia Herman-Flemington?"

My parents watched me curiously. Something in the man’s tone made my grip tighten on the phone. The air in the room suddenly felt thicker.

"Yes... who is this?" I asked, my voice dropping.

"This is Officer Reynolds with Aviation Emergency Response."

"Aviation emergency... what?" I whispered, my pulse quickening.

"Response," he clarified calmly. Then came a heavy, pregnant pause that made my stomach drop.

"I’m calling in regard to a private aircraft registered under Mr. Flemington’s name."

"Okay?" My voice was barely audible now.

"There has been an incident, Mrs. Flemington—"

"What kind of incident?" I cut in sharply, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Another pause—longer, heavier—before he spoke again.

"A crash. A plane crash, to be exact, ma’am."

The world tilted violently. My throat went bone-dry. My stomach churned as if I might be sick. A single tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it.

"No," I breathed, the word trembling. "No."

My parents exchanged alarmed glances, but I couldn’t focus on them.

"The aircraft went down over the Amazon region in Brazil," the officer continued. "Search and rescue teams have been dispatched—"

"No," I said louder this time, shaking my head as if I could physically deny the words. "That’s not possible. You must have the wrong person. We talked before he left... he was fine—"

"Ma’am, Mrs. Flemington, the flight records confirm—"

"You’re wrong!" My voice cracked painfully. "That’s not—he—he can’t—"

My breathing turned ragged, sharp gasps that burned my lungs.

"Octavia, what’s going on?" Dad asked, rising from his chair, concern etched deep into his face.

I ignored him, gripping the phone like a lifeline. "Is he alive?" I demanded, my voice breaking. Mom stood too, her hand flying to her mouth.

"Answer me," I whispered desperately.

"We are still conducting search operations," Officer Reynolds replied with careful professionalism. "At this time, we cannot confirm the status of any passengers."

Any passengers. Not Franklin. Not my husband.

The words hollowed me out. My chest tightened so violently I thought it might collapse. My hand trembled uncontrollably.

"So you’re telling me..." My voice dropped to a shattered whisper, "you don’t know if my husband is alive?"

My parents stared in stunned horror.

"What?" Dad breathed.

The officer’s pause felt endless. "That is correct, ma’am."

Something deep inside me fractured. The room spun, reality fracturing around me as I stood there, phone pressed to my ear, realizing I might be living through the worst nightmare of my life.