Home » Short Stories » Criminal Logic, Part 1 (Abunai's Notebook)

Criminal Logic, Part 1 (Abunai's Notebook)

Criminal Logic, Revisited, Part 1.

Stepha Kjaerbaek and Ima Gen

The Argument and the Stranger

Steven paced up and down the concrete stairs, his eyes fixed on the empty seats of the open-air stadium. The rugby game had just finished, and Rochelle was nowhere to be found as usual. "She always misses the game," he muttered, shaking his head in disgust.

He lit a cigarette and took a long drag, the smoke curling around him as he thought about her motivations. Steven figured she wasn't a sports fan, but she was mostly habitually late. He couldn't help but wonder if she was even trying to meet him on time.

Just then, he sensed a presence behind him. He turned to see Rochelle approaching, her white dress and stylish Mary Janes starkly contrasting the stadium's rugged atmosphere. She pulled on her crochet top, her tanned legs and auburn hair catching his attention.

"Hey, sorry I'm late," Rochelle said, slightly out of breath. "The parking lot was a nightmare, and I had to park on the street. It was a long walk over."

Steven raised an eyebrow, his expression unwelcoming. "You're always late, Rochelle. What's the excuse this time?"

Rochelle's eyes flashed with annoyance. "I already told you, parking was a nightmare. And I'm tired from the night before. I didn't get much sleep."

Steven snorted. "Save it, Rochelle. I know you're not exactly a sports fan. You only care about your things, like those silly salsa contests."

Rochelle's face reddened. "Hey, those contests mean a lot to me! And I've been sending you videos every month. Did you even bother to watch them?"

Steven took another drag on his cigarette, avoiding her gaze. "I didn't have time, okay? I've been busy."

Rochelle crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. "Busy? You're always saying that. But somehow, you have time to smoke and brood around here. You didn't even respond to my emails or messages."

Steven shrugged, his expression unrepentant. "I didn't see the point. You're always doing your own thing, Rochelle. I'm starting to think you're not even interested in us anymore."

Rochelle's eyes welled up, and she fought to steady her voice. "That's not fair, Steven. I've been trying to get us to do something together, like that couples' fire-dancing segment at the Last Dance Festival. But you never respond or show any interest."

Steven's gaze flicked to hers, a glimmer of guilt in his eyes. But he quickly looked away, his mask of indifference slipping back into place. "I don't know, Rochelle. Maybe we're just not compatible."

As the tension between them built, Rochelle noticed a stranger standing off to the side, watching them with an intense gaze. She felt a shiver run down her spine as she wondered who this person was and what they wanted. Steven had mentioned someone following him, a dark-haired girl, but nobody knew who it was. She suspected it was someone he knew, possibly a distant family member or former girlfriend.

"Who's that?" Rochelle asked, her voice low and suspicious.

Steven followed her gaze, his eyes narrowing. "No idea. Maybe just a fan who got lost on the way out of the stadium."

The stranger's eyes locked onto Steven's, and for a moment, Rochelle thought she saw a flicker of recognition. But then, the stranger turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Rochelle with more questions than answers.

Rochelle felt that Steven was ignoring her. The stranger kept on staring. She grabbed Steven's arm and led him to the stadium's front. Near the front bus stop, the dark-haired stranger kept on the edge of the grass. She hid behind a bush, her voice lowering to a whisper.

"Hey, I've noticed you haven't been responding to my emails or watching my dance recordings. What's going on, Steve?"

Steven looked taken aback by her concern. "I thought you were asking me on a date, not recruiting me for some dance competition."

Rochelle's face fell, but she pressed on, her platform sandals clicking on the pavement. "I need a partner for fire dancing. It's for the next Last Dance competition. Would you be interested?"

Steven shook his head, his ponytail bouncing slightly. "No way. It's too dangerous. I'm into rugby and golf, not dancing. Why don't you ask one of your friends?"

Rochelle's expression turned pleading, her dark eyes wide with desperation. "But I need a partner, and you're tall – it would be perfect. Can't you just give it a shot?"

Steven's tone hardened, his face set in a firm rejection. "I've told you, I'm not interested. Take a hint. It's not my thing, just like golfing and rugby aren't yours. I don't force you to attend my games, and you never show up on time anyway."

Rochelle's eyes flashed with frustration as she unwrapped her arms from his. She tossed her hair again, the movement more agitated this time. "That's not the point! You're always saying you're busy, but I know you're just not trying."

Rochelle took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. She knew she needed to approach this conversation differently. "Steven, I understand that you're not into dancing, but I need your help. Just think about it, okay?"

Steven raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement on his face. "What's in it for me, Rochelle?"

Rochelle's eyes sparkled with determination. "If you help me with the fire-dancing competition, I'll attend all your rugby games and even try to learn the rules."

Steven chuckled, his expression softening. "You'd do that for me?"

Rochelle nodded, her hair bouncing with the movement. "Yes, I would. I promise."

Steven sighed, looking around the empty stadium. "Alright, fine. I'll think about it. But don't get your hopes up, Rochelle. I'm still not promising anything."

Rochelle's face lit up with hope, and she threw her arms around Steven's neck. "Thank you, Steven! I'll make it worth your while, I promise."

As they stood there, the stranger reemerged from the shadows, their dark eyes fixed on Rochelle with an unsettling intensity. Rochelle shivered, her excitement momentarily forgotten in the face of this new, unsettling development.

Rochelle's eyes scanned her phone, her expression clouding with frustration. "Did you even bother to watch the video I sent from the last Festival?" she asked, her voice laced with disappointment.

Steven's eyes wandered, his attention drawn to a passing sports car. "Festival? Oh, yeah, the one with the...fire breathers?" He glanced at her, a distracted smile playing on his lips.

Rochelle's sigh was a mix of exasperation and sadness. "Fire dancers, darling. And yes, I sent you the video. The one where I, you know, performed."

He shrugged, his eyes never leaving the sports car. "Sorry, babe. Things have been...busy."

Rochelle's gaze followed the black SUV minivan as it drove away, the stranger behind the wheel. She recalled the gift Steven's father had given to his fiancé – wasn't it a similar vehicle? Her curiosity was piqued.

As they strolled along the edge of the stadium, the distant hum of the crowd faded into the background. The air was heavy with unspoken words, and Rochelle's thoughts turned to the hours she'd poured into her fire-dancing act – the intricate choreography, the fiery passion she'd invested in every movement. And for what? A fleeting glance, a half-hearted apology?

"You know," she began, her voice low and even, "fire dancing is a serious art form. It requires dedication, discipline..." Her words trailed off as she pulled on her crochet top, wishing she'd brought a jacket to ward off the growing chill.

Steven's gaze drifted to her high heels, his expression a mixture of amusement and discomfort. Rochelle smiled, used to wearing the shoes that made her a few inches shorter than Steven.

He chuckled, a dismissive sound. "Sure, sure. It's...impressive. But it's not exactly...practical, is it? You know, fire dancing is like those shoes. Attractive from a distance, but probably dangerous to wear or get involved in."

Rochelle's eyes flashed with hurt at the word "practical." It was a bitter taste in her mouth, a reminder that their lives were dictated by the pursuit of the next thrill, the next acquisition.

A mischievous thought bubbled up, and Rochelle's eyes sparkled with whimsy. "Perhaps," she mused, "I should trade in my fire fans for a...flamethrower. A little more...practical for, say, incinerating boredom."

Steven stared at her, momentarily stunned, before a slow grin spread across his face. "Now that," he conceded, "would be truly impressive."

As they prepared to leave, Rochelle pointed out the stranger's departure. "I think we should go. Did you see that woman? She's gone now."

Steven waved it off. "Probably a media person or something. Nothing to worry about."

As they parted ways, Rochelle received four pro golf tour videos from Steven, a petty revenge for her earlier frustration. She sighed and watched them, signing his read receipt. She did like rugby; she just couldn't seem to get anywhere on time. She decided to turn her attention to Umo. She had to meet both for a friend later on that evening, so she combed out her hair and watched the sunset as she drove her car to the distant Golf Pro Pub. At the intersection before the parking lot, she found two dance classes online that interested her.

The Stranger Arrives at the Bar

Rochelle and Steven sat down at the dimly lit bar outside the golf and country club, the only patrons left on that chilly winter evening. The bartender, a friendly woman named Karen, took their orders - a whiskey for Steven and a gin and tonic for Rochelle. Rochelle was particular about her drinks, always opting for clear liquids to avoid staining her impeccable white wardrobe. She wore a crisp white blouse, paired with a fitted white skirt and heels, her platinum hair styled in loose waves. Steven, on the other hand, wore his signature golf attire - a navy blue polo shirt and khaki pants, his rugged looks complemented by a strong jawline and piercing blue eyes.

As they sipped their drinks, Steven dominated the conversation, regaling Rochelle with stories of the rugby and football games he'd been watching at the stadium. Rochelle listened intently, her eyes sparkling with interest, but she couldn't help but steer the conversation toward the stranger who'd shown up at the stadium earlier.

"Hey, Steven, can I ask you something?" Rochelle said, her voice low and curious. "Who was that guy who showed up at the stadium earlier? You know, when I was running late?"

Steven's expression faltered for a brief moment before he regained his composure. "Oh, him? Just some lost tourist, I'm sure. Don't worry about it, Rochelle."

Rochelle sensed a slight evasion in Steven's tone, but she decided to let it slide for now. She turned the conversation towards the fire dancing lessons she'd been wanting to take. "Hey, Steven, I've been thinking... when can we start my fire dancing training? I've been interested in learning."

Steven's response was lukewarm, his gaze drifting away from hers. "Ah, yeah, fire dancing. I'll get to it, Rochelle. Just been busy with work and stuff."

Rochelle detected a hint of disinterest in Steven's tone, but before she could press the issue, Ulvaeus, the Swedish god, strolled into the bar, his chiseled features and striking blue eyes drawing everyone's attention. Steven's eyes widened, and his pupils dilated as he took in Ulvaeus's athletic build, clad in fitted jeans and a crisp white shirt.

"Steven, isn't that...?" Rochelle started to say, but Steven cut her off, his voice laced with a mix of excitement and desperation.

"Rochelle, why don't you go talk to Ulvaeus for a bit? I need to... uh, get some fresh air." Steven's excuse was flimsy, and Rochelle knew it, but she decided to let him have his way.

As Rochelle watched Steven's hasty retreat, Ulvaeus sauntered over, a charming smile spreading across his face. "Hey, beautiful. Mind if I join you?"

Rochelle smiled, feeling a pang of empathy towards Steven, who was smitten with Ulvaeus but struggling to come to terms with his desires. "Not at all, Ulvaeus. Please do."

As Ulvaeus settled in next to her, Rochelle couldn't help but think that Steven's awkwardness was a result of his internal conflict. She sensed that Steven was trying to fight his attraction towards men, and it broke her heart to see him struggling.

Meanwhile, Steven stepped outside into the chilly night air, his mind racing with thoughts of Ulvaeus. He couldn't help but steal glances at the Swedish god, his heart pounding in his chest. Why did he have to be so damn attracted to men? Why couldn't he just be normal, like everyone else?

Steven's inner monologue was a mix of self-doubt and frustration, a constant battle he'd been fighting for years. He couldn't bring himself to admit his true feelings, even to Rochelle, who was, in many ways, his closest friend.

As he stood outside, lost in thought, Steven didn't notice Ulvaeus approach him, a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Steven. You okay?"

Steven spun around, his eyes locking onto Ulvaeus's, a spark of electricity running between them. For a fleeting moment, Steven allowed himself to be drawn to the Swedish god, to let his guard down and admit his desires. But it was a moment too brief, and he quickly regained his composure, his mask of heterosexuality firmly in place.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Ulvaeus. Just... needed some fresh air."

As Ulvaeus returned to the bar, Steven couldn't help but notice the way the Swedish god's eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, or the way his hair fell across his forehead in perfectly tousled waves. Steven felt a pang in his chest, a mix of longing and frustration. Why did he have to be so drawn to Ulvaeus? Why couldn't he just be attracted to women like everyone else?

Rochelle, sensing something amiss, turned to Ulvaeus and asked, "So, what brings you here tonight?"

Ulvaeus leaned in, his elbows resting on the bar, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Just enjoying the evening, beautiful. Although I have to say, I'm intrigued by your... fiery friend over there." Ulvaeus nodded towards Steven, who was still standing outside, lost in thought.

Rochelle followed Ulvaeus's gaze, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in Steven's brooding expression. "Ah, yeah. Steven's just being his usual... intense self." She chuckled, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Ulvaeus raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Intense, huh? I like intense. Maybe I'll go see what's bothering him." Ulvaeus pushed off from the bar, his long strides carrying him towards Steven.

Rochelle watched as Ulvaeus approached Steven, a flutter in her chest. She knew Steven was struggling with his desires, and she worried about the consequences of Ulvaeus's attention. But before she could intervene, Steven turned around, a look of determination etched on his face.

"Hey, Ulvaeus. You know, I think I'm going to head home. Early morning at the golf course tomorrow," Steven said, his voice firm, but his eyes betraying a hint of desperation.

Ulvaeus's eyes narrowed, his gaze piercing. "You sure, Steven? You seem a little... troubled."

Steven's throat tightened, his pulse racing. He knew he couldn't admit the truth to Ulvaeus, not yet. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just need some rest, that's all."

Ulvaeus nodded, his eyes lingering on Steven's face before turning to Rochelle. "It was nice meeting you, beautiful. Maybe I'll see you around." With a wink, Ulvaeus sauntered off into the night, leaving Steven feeling both relieved and bereft.

As Ulvaeus disappeared into the darkness, Rochelle turned to Steven, her expression soft with concern. "Steven, are you okay? You know you can talk to me, right?"

Steven's eyes locked onto Rochelle's, a mix of gratitude and fear swirling in his chest. He knew he couldn't reveal his true feelings to her, not yet. But he knew he needed someone to talk to, someone who wouldn't judge him.

"Yeah, Rochelle. I'm fine. Just... appreciate you being here for me, okay?"

Rochelle nodded, her hand reaching out to touch Steven's arm. "I'm always here for you, Steven. No matter what."

As they stood there, the silence between them was heavy with unspoken words, secrets waiting to be uncovered. They got up and moved to the patio bar, as the center bar was closing. Ulvaeus followed.

She wore a crisp white blouse, paired with a fitted white skirt and heels, her platinum hair styled in loose waves. Steven, on the other hand, wore his signature golf attire - a navy blue polo shirt and khaki pants, his rugged looks complemented by a strong jawline and piercing blue eyes.

"Hey, Steven, can I ask you something?" Rochelle said, her voice low and curious. "Who was that guy who showed up at the stadium earlier? You know, when I was running late?"

Steven's expression faltered for a brief moment before he regained his composure. "Oh, him? Just some lost tourist, I'm sure. Don't worry about it, Rochelle."

Steven's response was lukewarm, his gaze drifting away from hers. "Ah, yeah, fire dancing. I'll get to it, Rochelle. Just been busy with work and stuff."

Just then, the music changed, and a lively beat filled the air. Suddenly, Steven turned to Rochelle, his eyes sparkling with a newfound enthusiasm. "Hey, want to dance?" he asked, his voice a little too loud, a little too forced.

Rochelle's eyebrows rose in surprise, but she nodded, intrigued by the sudden change in Steven's demeanor. "Sure, why not?"

As they made their way to the dance floor, Steven caught Ulvaeus's eye, his gaze lingering for a fraction of a second before he looked away. Rochelle noticed the exchange, her eyes darting between the two men, a mix of concern and curiosity etched on her face.

"Hey, Ulvaeus!" Steven called out, his voice a little too loud, a little too nervous. "Want to join us on the dance floor?"

Ulvaeus's eyes locked onto Steven's, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Love to," he said, his voice low and smooth.

As the three of them danced together, Rochelle couldn't help but notice the tension between Steven and Ulvaeus. It was palpable, electric, and she wondered what secrets lay hidden beneath the surface of their interactions.

After the dance, Steven went home. Nothing had happened between them after Rochelle left. She seemed confused. Steven was expectant. He had Ulvaeus' number. He took a shower, put his clothes in the laundry hamper, dried off, and went to bed.

The Stalker

Abunai stood in front of the mirror, adjusting her bright yellow sundress with a white cherry blossoms print. She had chosen it specifically to stand out in a crowd, yet not too flashy for a casual encounter with Steven. Her aunt, Yumi, had given her a strange look when she came downstairs, but Abunai just smiled and said she was going for a walk.

As she applied a light layer of makeup, her mind wandered back to her grandmother's words: "You bring shame to our family, Abunai. You must leave." The sting of those words still lingered, but she pushed the emotions aside, focusing on her goal: securing a visa and a better life for herself and her child.

Abunai slipped on her white sandals and grabbed a small purse. She took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself for the encounter. She had been watching Steven's social media, knew his favorite coffee shop, and had even seen him jogging in the park a few times. Today, she would "accidentally" bump into him, and hopefully, start a conversation.

Later that morning, Steven received a phone call from Rochelle.

Steven groggily reached for his phone, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Hey, Rochelle. What's up?" He yawned, still feeling the effects of the late night out dancing with Rochelle and Ulvaeus.

"Hey, sleepyhead. I just wanted to check in and make sure you're still alive after last night," Rochelle said, her voice teasing.

Steven chuckled, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Barely. I think I left my dancing shoes on the dance floor."

As he talked to Rochelle, he glanced around his room, noticing nothing out of the ordinary. He had been feeling a bit uneasy lately like someone was watching him. He had seen a dark-haired girl a few times at the rugby game, but he hadn't thought much of it. Maybe he was just being paranoid.

After the call, Steven got ready for the day, unaware that Abunai had snuck into his residence, hiding behind a large fern in the living room. She had been watching him for weeks, getting to know his schedule and habits. Her gymnastics training allowed her to move quietly and easily, and her hosting skills helped her blend in with the surroundings.

Abunai held her breath, listening in on Steven's conversation. She recognized the name Rochelle - the same woman she had seen with Steven at the coffee shop a few days ago. A spark of anger flared up, but she pushed it aside, focusing on her goal.

As Steven finished getting ready, Abunai carefully moved out from behind the fern, her eyes fixed on him. She knew she had to be careful not to be seen, but she couldn't help feeling drawn to him. Maybe it was the way he laughed or the way his hair curled slightly at the nape of his neck.

Abunai's mind started racing as she watched Steven. There was something off about him, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. He didn't seem interested in women, at least not in the way men usually were. And Rochelle... Abunai's eyes narrowed as she thought about Rochelle's behavior. It was almost as if she was trying to push Steven into a relationship, but Steven didn't seem receptive.

Abunai's stalker instincts kicked in, and she knew she had to keep watching Steven. She had to figure out what was going on, and how she could use it to her advantage.

As Steven headed out the door, Abunai slipped back behind the fern, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew she was taking a risk, stalking Steven like this. But she was in too deep to turn back now.

Abunai took a deep breath, her mind racing with possibilities. She had to get closer to Steven, had to find a way to make him notice her. And she knew just the way to do it.

She waited until Steven was out of sight, then slipped out from behind the fern. She took a glance around the room, committing every detail to memory. She knew she would be back, and next time, she would be ready.

Abunai's thoughts were a jumble of emotions as she walked out of the house. She knew she was playing with fire, stalking Steven like this. But she was in too deep to turn back now. And besides, she had a goal to achieve: securing a visa and a better life for herself and her child.

As she walked away from the house, Abunai's eyes fixed on the horizon. She knew she would do whatever it took to get what she wanted. And if that meant stalking Steven, then so be it.

Abunai took a deep breath, her mind racing with possibilities. She had to get closer to Steven, had to find a way to make him notice her. And she knew just the way to do it.

As she walked around the house, Abunai's eyes fixed on the horizon. She knew she would do whatever it took to get what she wanted. And if that meant stalking Steven, then so be it.

Abunai took a deep breath, her mind racing with possibilities. She had to get closer to Steven, had to find a way to make him give her information on Wilhelm's account. And she knew just the way to do it.

She waited until Steven was out of sight as she watched him from the window. Her cell phone kept ringing. Nobody seemed to be around, not even any help. She hid behind the curtain, then slipped out from behind the blackout full-length drapes. She took a glance around the room, committing every detail to memory. She knew she would be back, and next time, she would be ready.

Abunai's thoughts were a jumble of emotions as she walked to the far wing of the house. She knew she was playing with fire, stalking Steven like this. But she was in too deep to turn back now. And besides, she had a goal to achieve: securing a visa and a better life for herself and her child. Wilhelm could help her do that, and their marriage did not have to be long.

As she wandered through the house, Abunai's eyes fixed on the horizon. She knew she would do whatever it took to get what she wanted. And if that meant stalking Steven, then so be it. Steven was now gone, so she was free to do what she wanted. She wanted to find out more about her future son-in-law.

"Oh, Abunai, be careful," Yumi said, her voice laced with concern. "You know you're not supposed to be walking around alone."

"I'll be fine, Aunt," Abunai said, rolling her eyes. "I just need some fresh air. Remember not to shame the family. This has happened once before. I am being generous by letting you stay here. They do not know."

Abunai's mind drifted back to her old days in Tokyo's suburbs before she left. Her child was still there with her grandmother. Since her husband had committed suicide after she filed for divorce, Abunai was wrongly blamed for his actions. Her family accused her of disgracing them.

She took out her compact and a pad. As she applied a light layer of makeup, her mind wandered back to her grandmother's words: "You bring shame to our family, Abunai. You must leave."

The sting of those words still lingered, but she pushed the emotions aside, focusing on her goal: securing a visa and a better life for herself and her child. She had taken out all of her savings for a one-way ticket to Canada, in hopes of a better way of life and a chance to make money.

Abunai slipped on her white sandals and grabbed a small purse. She took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself for the encounter. Her phone stopped ringing momentarily, so she loaded up Instagram.

She had been watching Steven's social media, knew his favorite coffee shop, and had even seen him jogging in the park a few times. Today, she would "accidentally" bump into him, and hopefully, start a conversation. He had met her once or twice in disguise, at one of Wilhelm's toxic masquerade parties. She had dressed as a French maid twice.

"I can do this," she whispered to herself, her heart racing with excitement. "I just need to get close to him, make him notice me to get that account information."

She hid in the basement, waiting for his return. Abunai suspected she should leave, but her car was parked behind the property and she was nonchalant when she came to the neighborhood earlier. Disguised as a delivery driver with packages, nobody had questioned her. Security had let her through the gate. She knew she couldn't pass them. Nobody seemed to notice that the delivery driver had never returned.

Out and about, Steven got himself a latte and went for a walk in the park. He watched boats for a while and thought of his empty day. Usually, he was busy as Wilhelm's account representative but business had been slow.

Later that morning, Steven received a phone call from Rochelle. Steven groggily reached for his phone, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Like a homeless person, he had dozed off on the bench. He took out his Motorola flip phone and answered.

"Hey, Rochelle. What's up?" He yawned, still feeling the effects of the late night out dancing with Rochelle and Ulvaeus.

"Hey, sleepyhead. I just wanted to check in and make sure you're still alive after last night," Rochelle said, her voice teasing.

Steven chuckled, swinging his legs over the side of the bench. "Barely. I think I left my dancing shoes on the dance floor."

As he talked to Rochelle, he glanced around the park, noticing nothing out of the ordinary. He had been feeling a bit uneasy lately like someone was watching him back home. He had seen a dark-haired girl a few times at the rugby game, but he hadn't thought much of it. Maybe he was just being paranoid. Nobody was in his house that he knew of. There had been a drop-off by a delivery driver. He found three parcels addressed to the business outside, probably some tax paperwork he had to work on.

After the call, Steven got ready for a late lunch. He thought of returning home and eating a sandwich since he his maid-cook had the day off. He relented. The seafood restaurant and food trucks in the park had plenty of options. A vegetarian wrap sounded good to him or he could stop for a bowl of clam chowder.

Unaware that Abunai had snuck into his residence, hiding behind a large fern in the living room, he had completely missed her. She was small and good at deception. She had been watching him for weeks, getting to know his schedule and habits. Her gymnastics training allowed her to move quietly and easily, and her hosting skills helped her blend in with the surroundings. Once a radio show host, it had been her dream to be a news announcer. Lately, she has signed up for some free introductory audio advertising and engineering courses. The full course was free from the government if she only had a work-student visa.

Abunai held her breath, listening in on Steven's guest's conversation. She was unaware a man was sleeping in his bedroom. She wondered why that was. Surely, he could have stayed in the guest house. It wasn't Ulvaeus. He spoke to someone on the phone, possibly another family member. She recognized the name Rochelle - the same woman she had seen with Steven at the coffee shop a few days ago. A spark of anger flared up, but she pushed it aside, focusing on her goal. She had been a careful study in both of them.

"I'm so close," she whispered to herself, her heart pounding in her chest. "I just need to get closer to him, make him speak within earshot. He knows something about Rochelle. Maybe he talks to her regularly."

As his lover finished getting ready, Abunai carefully moved out from behind the fern, her eyes fixed on him. She snuck out without him noticing. Now she just had to get past security. Fortunately, some barking dogs distracted them, and she quickly ran past and around the open gate before they caught sight of her.

The Lover

Abunai drove out from the back of the house, her heart racing with excitement and a hint of worry. She had almost blown her cover, but her quick thinking allowed her to escape undetected. Concerned, she hoped that nobody had noticed that she had never left the property after she arrived, claiming to be a delivery driver.

As she drove away, she couldn't shake off the feeling that Steven's security might be onto her fake delivery driver ruse. She decided not to use it again and felt she needed some new outfits. An appointment with her custom designer was paramount.

"I think it's time for a new disguise," she muttered to herself. "I don't want to get caught. I need to access Steven's computer, but he never leaves it around. He keeps it in the safe and I don't know the passcode."

As she drove, she became nervous. Abunai was rarely nervous. She took a right turn at the intersection,

her eyes scanning the road ahead. She had access to the costume design world, and she knew just the person to call. Her mind flashed back to the months she spent working as a radio host, where she met all sorts of creatives, including the enigmatic designer, Mr. Beach. He had a Japanese collection one time, and she had seen his show. She interviewed him for a segment on her show, and it was also featured in a podcast online.

Meanwhile, back at the compound, Steven walked in to find his lover, The lover, lounging on the couch, looking relaxed in a pair of worn jeans and a faded band t-shirt.

"I see you came back, Steven. I was planning on leaving earlier," The lover said, smiling, but his eyes betrayed a hint of anxiety.

"I wish you had left earlier," Steven replied, dropping his bag on the floor. "What are you still doing here? I thought you had to go."

The lover shrugged, his dark hair tousled from sleep. "I was feeling a bit under the weather, so I thought I'd stick around. But," he added, his voice dropping to a whisper, "I did hear someone walking around the house while you were out."

Steven's instincts prickled, but he pushed the feeling aside. "Must've been the wind or the maid, Juanita," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "Is she around? She said she had to go shopping and visit her granddaughter. I expect her to be back now."

The lover's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. He knew better than to push Steven when he was distracted or angry. He knew he had overstayed his welcome. Steven could be cold outside of bed. His lover wanted to know where he stood.

As The lover gathered his things to leave, Steven's gaze followed him, his mind already drifting to Ulvaeus. He was surprised by how much he missed his friend's easy smile and carefree laughter.

"I don't know, whatever," Steven said, his voice hesitant. "The door is right there. You can go now. I will call you later."

The lover's face fell, and for a moment, Steven saw a flash of hurt in his eyes.

"I don't know, Steven. You've been distant lately...I need some kind of commitment. Are you seeing someone else?" his lover said.

Steven nodded, feeling a pang of guilt. "I am not certain. No, I am not seeing someone else. It is just one of those things. It is not going anywhere. Yeah, I get it. You want a commitment. I am not ready. Work is taking up a lot of my time, and my father is getting married again. Mom is kind of butt-hurt about it. I have to deal with it. See you around."

As soon as his lover left, Steven's phone buzzed with a call from Rochelle. He let it go to voicemail, not feeling like dealing with her cheerfulness right now. He sat down and sipped on a glass of low-sugar iced tea. Perspiration dripped off his forehead. He took a deep breath and decided to think things through.

______________________________________________

Abunai, meanwhile, pulled up to a small, unassuming shop in the artsy part of town. The sign read 'Vibe Design', and Abunai knew she was in the right place. She had seen recent signs on the street of Mr. Beach's genius, how they could transform anyone into a completely new person. Abunai's fingers drummed against the steering wheel as she thought about her childhood, the Tokyo woman who dreamed of being a news anchor, only to end up stuck in a dead-end radio hosting job.

Inside, the shop was a treasure trove of colorful fabrics in every style imaginable. Abunai's eyes landed on Mr. Beach, who looked tired and suntanned. The designer's blonde hair gleamed under the soft lights, and his eyes glinted as they turned to face Abunai.

"Good afternoon, Abunai," Mr. Beach said, their voice a gentle purr. "Nice to see you. I just came back from Mexico and am dying to work. I have been catching up on my appointments, but I have some time this afternoon just for you. What can I create for you today?"

Abunai stepped forward, her athletic build and toned legs apparent even in her casual jeans. "I need a new look," she said, her voice low and determined. "Something that will help me blend in, disappear. Can you help me?"

The designers's eyes lit up with excitement. "Oh, honey, I can make you invisible. But first, tell me, what's the story behind this new persona of yours?"

Abunai hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. But something about Mr. Beach's kind, knowing gaze put her at ease.

"I'm trying to seduce a man I am interested in," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Someone with a lot of security. I need to be able to move undetected, to get them to trust me."

Mr. Beach nodded, their eyes sparkling with intrigue. "I see. And what's the endgame, sweetheart?"

Last he had heard, Abunai was secretly engaged to Wilhelm von der Paan, the fifty-something oil entrepreneur universally hated for his wealth, pretentiousness, and lack of respect for environmental regulations. He wondered who she was talking about. Wilhelm struck him as the type concerned about image and status, not sexuality.

Abunai grimaced, her eyes flashing with determination. "I need to uncover a secret. Something big."

Mr. Beach wondered if Abunai was getting it on the side. Perhaps Wilhelm was small for a large man. There was something about his gate and choice of pants that made him think so. Mr. Beach never went for older men; he had a long list of young men taking interest. None compared to his chef boyfriend from Thailand, though. His grin grew wider, his hands already moving to select fabrics and accessories.

"Well, in that case, let's create a masterpiece. Something that will make you the ultimate chameleon. Do you want something based on your French maid outfit, or do you want to go for something new?" Mr. Beach asked her.

Abunai peeled out of the store, her heart racing with fear and enticement. His outfits were brilliant. She looked forward to her next fitting. Now, as she returned to her vehicle, a little worry came over her. She had almost gotten caught, but her quick thinking had gotten her out of there undetected. Or so she hoped. As she drove away, she couldn't shake off the feeling that Steven's security might be onto her fake delivery driver ruse.

"Time for a new disguise," she muttered to herself, eyes scanning the road ahead. She had a few contacts in the costume design world, and she knew just the person to call. Her mind flashed back to the months she spent working as a radio host, where she met all sorts of creatives, including the enigmatic designer, The Stranger.

Meanwhile, back at the compound, Steven walked in to find his lover, His lover, lounging on the couch, looking relaxed in a pair of worn jeans and a faded band t-shirt.

"Hey, babe," His lover said, smiling, but his eyes betrayed a hint of anxiety.

"Hey," Steven replied, dropping his bag on the floor. "What are you still doing here? I thought you had to go."

His lover shrugged, his dark hair tousled from sleep. "I was feeling a bit under the weather, so I thought I'd stick around. But," he added, his voice dropping to a whisper, "I did hear someone walking around the house while you were out."

Steven's instincts prickled, but he pushed the feeling aside. "Must've been the wind or the maid, Juanita," he said, waving his hand dismissively.

His lover's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. He knew better than to push Steven when he was in denial.

As His lover gathered his things to leave, Steven's gaze followed him, his mind already drifting to Ulvaeus. He was surprised by how much he missed his friend's easy smile and carefree laughter.

"I don't know, His lover," Steven said, his voice hesitant, as His lover paused at the door. "Can you come back?"

His lover's face fell, and for a moment, Steven saw a flash of hurt in his eyes. "I don't know, Steven. You've been distant lately...I need some space."

Steven nodded, "I would like you to go. Don't forget to take any of your belongings. I am not certain I will call you again."

As soon as his lover left, Steven's phone buzzed with a call from Rochelle. He let it go to voicemail, not feeling like dealing with her relentlessness. Slightly annoyed by his lover overstaying his welcome, he was glad his father had not seen him.

--------------------------------------

Abunai, meanwhile, pulled up to a small, unassuming shop in the artsy part of town. The sign read "Moonlit Masquerade," and Abunai knew she was in the right place. She had heard whispers about The stranger's genius, how they could transform anyone into a completely new person. Abunai's fingers drummed against the steering wheel as she thought about her backstory – the small-town girl who dreamed of being a news anchor, only to end up stuck in a dead-end radio hosting job.

Inside, the shop was a treasure trove of colorful fabrics, glittering beads, and rows of wigs in every style imaginable. Abunai's eyes landed on The stranger, who looked like a cross between David Bowie and a Kabuki performer. The designer's shaved head gleamed under the soft lights, and their hoop nose ring glinted as they turned to face Abunai.

"Hello, Mrs. Oyami. How can I assist you?" The stranger said, their voice a gentle purr. "What can I create for you today? You seem anxious for something new."

The stranger's eyes lit up with excitement. "Oh, honey, I can make you invisible. But first, tell me, what's the story behind this new persona of yours?"

Abunai hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. But something about The stranger's kind, knowing gaze put her at ease. "I'm trying to get close to someone," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Someone with a lot of security. I need to be able to move undetected, to get them to trust me."

The designer nodded, their eyes sparkling with intrigue. "I see. And what's the endgame, sweetheart?"

Abunai's jaw set, her eyes flashing with determination. "I need to uncover a secret. Something big."

Mr. Beach's grin grew wider, their hands already moving to select fabrics and accessories. "Well, in that case, let's create a masterpiece. Something that will make you the ultimate chameleon."

The Party

Abunai arrived at the party early, her heart racing with excitement and nerves. She had been planning this moment for weeks, carefully crafting her disguise and rehearsing her lines. She was determined to get access to Wilhelm's private accounts, and she knew that the key lay in getting close to him.

She made her way to the bathroom, where she quickly changed into her disguise - a black cocktail dress with a silver necklace and a pair of high heels. As she looked in the mirror, she couldn't help but feel a pang of embarrassment. Her outfit looked suspiciously like her old French maid costume, and she couldn't help but think of all the times she had worn it to please her clients.

"Ugh, get it together, Abunai," she muttered to herself, trying to shake off the feeling of shame.

She took a deep breath and made her way to Wilhelm's room, hoping to find some information on his private accounts. But as she searched through his drawers and files, she realized that she was getting nowhere. And to make matters worse, she heard the sound of footsteps coming from outside the room.

Panic set in, and Abunai quickly hid behind the curtains, her heart pounding in her chest. She waited for what felt like an eternity, her ears straining to hear any sound. Finally, she heard Steven's voice, calling out to her.

"What are you doing? I thought I heard something. Did you break a vase? I'd like to know what is going on, Abunai," he commented.

Abunai took a deep breath and slowly emerged from behind the curtains, trying to composed herself. She picked herself up off the ground and dusted herself off. Quickly, she glanced in the full-length mirror and straightened out her outfit.

"It's nothing to worry about. I was just picking up something I dropped. It's part of the outfit, so really it doesn't matter. Y-yes, I'm fine," she stammered, trying to hide her embarrassment.

Steven looked at her with concern, but Wilhelm just smiled and opened his arms. He thought it was a family moment. A smile came over his overtanned, ageing face. He walked towards them with a look of delight. Both parties grimaced.

"Ah, Abunai, my dear, you look stunning," he said, his voice dripping with charm. "That is a fantastic outfit. So cute and yet, so sexy."

Abunai felt a blush rise to her cheeks as she hugged Wilhelm, trying to push aside her feelings of guilt and shame. She was against wearing an outfit more than once. Concern came over her as she feared Wilhelm would lean in with his tongue and give her one of his awful open-mouth kisses. He even did it to strangers, to the embarrassment to everyone. His sexual performance turned her off.

"Thank you, Wilhelm," she said, trying to sound confident. "You look quite dashing yourself. That's a great tan. That white outfit compliments you."

Wilhelm chuckled and patted her hand, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He was pleased with himself. After two hours scanning his wardrobe, his servant had picked out a suitable outfit. White really made him look puffy, but he thought he looked youthful and trim.

"I'm glad you approve," he said. "Now, shall we go downstairs and mingle with the guests? I can't wait for them to see this new outfit."

Abunai nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. Maybe, just maybe, this night wouldn't be a complete disaster after all. As they made their way downstairs, Abunai couldn't help but notice the way Steven looked at her - with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. She knew she had to be careful, that one misstep could blow her entire plan. But for now, she was determined to enjoy the party, and to get as close to Wilhelm as possible.

Nervously, Abunai glanced around the room, taking in the sights and sounds of the party. She spotted a group of people laughing and chatting, and she quickly made her way over to them. She wanted to disappear into the crowd before people started greeting her or taking photos.

"Hi, everyone," she said, trying to sound friendly and outgoing. "I'm Abunai, Wilhelm's fiancée. It's nice to meet all of you. I hope you are having a nice evening."

The group turned to her, their faces a blur of smiles and introductions. Abunai nodded and smiled, trying to keep up with the conversation. But as she talked, she couldn't help but think about her real goal - getting access to Wilhelm's private accounts.

As the night wore on, Abunai found herself growing more and more anxious. She knew she had to get to those accounts, but she didn't know how. And as she looked around the room, she realized that Steven was watching her, his eyes fixed on her with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

Abunai felt a shiver run down her spine as she met Steven's gaze. She knew she had to be careful, that one misstep could blow her entire plan. But for now, she was determined to enjoy the party, and to get as close to Wilhelm as possible.

As the night dragged, Abunai found herself growing more and more desperate. She knew she had to get to those accounts, and she knew she had to do it soon. But as she looked around the room, she realized that she was surrounded by people, and that her chances of getting to the accounts were slim to none.

Abunai took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down. She knew she had to think clearly, to come up with a new plan. And as she looked around the room, she spotted a small door that led to a private study.

"Excuse me, Wilhelm," she said, trying to sound casual. "I need to use the restroom. May I use the one in your study?"

Wilhelm nodded, and Abunai quickly made her way to the study. She closed the door behind her, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew she had to act fast, to find a way to get to those accounts before it was too late.

Curious, Abunai quickly searched the room, her eyes scanning the shelves and desks. She spotted a small safe in the corner, and her heart skipped a beat. She knew that was where Wilhelm kept his private accounts, and she was determined to get to them.

Frustrated, Abunai took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down. She knew she had to think clearly, to come up with a plan. And as she stood there, her eyes fixed on the safe, she knew that she was one step closer to getting what she wanted.

Then, Abunai smiled to herself, feeling a sense of determination wash over her. She knew she could do this, that she could get access to Wilhelm's private accounts. And as she stood there, her eyes fixed on the safe, she knew that she was ready to take the next step.

Abunai glanced around the room, taking in the sights and sounds of the study. She spotted a small note on the desk, and she wanted to read it when Steven came in.

"That was a great performance," he said, as she turned to him. "I am impressed. I don't know if Wilhelm knows."

Before Abunai could say anything, he left.

The Phone Call at Home

Steven sat on his couch, phone still in hand, staring blankly at the wall as he processed the conversation with his father. The faint sound of his lover, whose name he still hadn't revealed to himself, let alone his family, was a gentle hum in the background, a reminder of the secrets he kept hidden.

He shuddered at the thought of coming out to his dad, Wilhelm. The man was traditional, set in his ways, and Steven feared the repercussions of being open about his sexuality. His mind wandered to the times he'd seen his father's disapproving looks, the way he'd lecture about "proper" relationships and marriage.

Steven's eyes fell on the worn-out armchair in the corner, where he'd spent countless nights lost in thought, wondering how to break the news. The dim lighting in the room, courtesy of the early morning hour, cast long shadows, making the space feel even more suffocating.

As he mulled over his options, a sly smile spread across his face. Why not take Rochelle to the wedding and bring someone else along? It would be the perfect distraction, a temporary reprieve from his father's expectations. Maybe, just maybe, this was the universe's way of giving him an out.

His gaze drifted to the window, where the first hints of dawn crept over the Kelowna skyline. The sky was a deep shade of indigo, slowly lightening to a soft blue. The air was crisp, with a hint of winter's chill lingering.

Steven's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his lover, now standing in the doorway, dressed in a fitted white T-shirt and snug jeans, his dark hair mussed from sleep. Their eyes locked, and Steven felt a flutter in his chest. He wondered if he could ever introduce this person to his father, if he'd ever be brave enough to be open about their relationship.

The question hovering in his mind was: had Abunai put his father up to this? Was it all just a clever ploy to force Steven out of the closet? He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, and stood up to face the day ahead, unsure of what lay in store.

"Dad, I...I appreciate your efforts, but I don't know if this is the best idea," Steven said, stalling for time.

"Nonsense, son! Abunai thought it was a brilliant plan," his father replied, his voice booming through the phone. "He called me just yesterday, said it would be great for you to get out there and meet new people. He even mentioned you could use some...livening up."

Steven's eyes narrowed. Abunai, that meddling... "What did Abunai say exactly? I am sure she came up with the idea."

"Oh, just that she was worried about you, son. Said you've been stuck in a rut lately. And I have to agree, you do seem a bit withdrawn. This is exactly what you need – a push in the right direction," Wilhelm said, his tone dripping with certainty.

Steven felt a knot form in his stomach. What was Abunai's game? "I'll think about it, Dad. Thanks for calling. I will talk to Rochelle. Tell Abunai I can pick out my own dates."

"No problem, son. Just think about what I said. And don't be shy about introducing me to this Rochelle of yours. I'm looking forward to meeting her...and, of course, the person you'll be bringing along," Wilhelm added, his voice laced with curiosity.

Steven's grip on the phone tightened. How did his father always manage to get under his skin? "Yeah, sure, Dad. I'll...I'll take care of it."

As he hung up the phone, Steven's gaze drifted to the window, where the first hints of dawn crept over the skyline. The sky was a deep shade of indigo, slowly lightening to a soft blue. The air was crisp, with a hint of winter's chill lingering.

The room seemed to shrink around him, the secrets and lies piling up like weights on his shoulders. He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, and stood up to face the day ahead, unsure of what lay in store. Steven sat on his couch, phone still in hand, staring blankly at the wall as he processed the conversation with his father. The faint sound of his lover, whose name he still hadn't revealed to himself, let alone his family, was a gentle hum in the background, a reminder of the secrets he kept hidden.

"Dad, I...I appreciate your efforts, but I don't know if this is the best idea," Steven said, stalling for time.

Steven's eyes narrowed. Abunai, that meddling... "What did Abunai say exactly?"

"Oh, just that he was worried about you, son. Said you've been stuck in a rut lately. And I have to agree, you do seem a bit withdrawn. This is exactly what you need – a push in the right direction," Wilhelm said, his tone dripping with certainty.

Steven felt a knot form in his stomach. What was Abunai's game? "I'll think about it, Dad. Thanks for calling."

Steven's grip on the phone tightened. How did his father always manage to get under his skin? "Yeah, sure, Dad. I'll...I'll take care of it."

"And Steven? There is something that I need to tell you, and I am about to get to it," his father said, just before hanging up.

"Yes? What is it? I am running out of time before I go for a shower, so what is it? I really want to get to bed now," Steven said.

"Don't be late for the wedding rehearsal. I expect to see you there, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. I want you to look and feel your best. Get a good night's sleep beforehand," Wilhelm stressed. "No go have a shower and get some sleep."

Steven rolled his eyes. "I'll be there, Dad. I am not certain about Rochelle, but she can come on her own if you want. Have a good evening."

As he hung up the phone, Steven's gaze drifted to the window, where the first hints of dawn crept over the Kelowna skyline. The sky was a deep shade of indigo, slowly lightening to a soft blue. The air was crisp, with a hint of winter's chill lingering.

"Hey," his lover said, taking a step closer. "Everything okay? You look a little shaken. I just dropped by to see if you wanted to go for dinner."

Steven forced a smile. "Yeah, just my dad being...himself. How did you get in here? I asked for your key back."

No answer was offered. The other man nodded sympathetically. "Want to talk about it?"

Steven hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. But something about the gentle concern in his lover's eyes made him open up. "He's trying to set me up with some woman, Rochelle. And I think Abunai might be behind it."

The other man's eyebrows shot up. "Abunai? What's her game? I think she is up to something. Do you know someone was here earlier when I was still waiting for you to return?"

Steven shrugged. "No idea, but I have a feeling it's not good. I have no idea. I will check the cameras in the morning."

The room fell silent, the only sound the soft hum of the city outside. Steven's lover took another step closer, his eyes locked on Steven's.

"Maybe we can figure it out together," he said, his voice low and gentle. "Would you like me to stay? We can order in."

Steven's heart skipped a beat. Maybe, just maybe, he didn't have to face this alone. But he thought better of it, and escorted his lover out the door, to his behest. He waved to him as he bitterly got into his car and left. Steven was not one to be had. He would use Rochelle for his own ends, and in the meantime, figure out what Abunai was up to.

The Wedding Plan

Abunai sat in her plush, cream-colored office, surrounded by wedding planning books and scattered papers. She was on a mission to make this wedding rehearsal a success, and it started with confirming the plans with Rochelle. She dialed Rochelle's number, her manicured nails tapping impatiently on the desk.

As she waited for Rochelle to answer, Abunai's eyes wandered to the clock on her wall. It was already 10 am, and she had a lot to accomplish today. She took a deep breath, letting her shoulders relax in her tailored, fitted blazer.

"Rochelle, darling!" Abunai exclaimed, as soon as Rochelle answered. "I'm so glad I caught you. I was thinking, would you like to be my maid of honor?"

Rochelle's squeal of excitement on the other end of the line was music to Abunai's ears. "Oh, I'd love to! Thank you so much for asking!"

Abunai beamed, her porcelain skin glowing with pride. "Wonderful! I'll send over the dress measurements, and we can finalize everything. You're going to look stunning, I just know it."

Rochelle asked, "How do you know my dress measurements? I haven't done a fitting. I mean, I haven't told you."

"Oh, I am good at guessing. I will send it over to finalize," she said. "Thanks so much. I will get back to you about tomorrow."

Next, Abunai dialed Steven's number, her pen poised over her notebook as she waited for him to answer. When he did, she launched into a cheerful, singsong tone. "Steven, sweetie! Just confirming you're coming with Rochelle, right?"

Steven's hesitant "yeah" was all she needed to hear. Abunai smiled to herself, calculating the possibilities. She quickly ended the call, her mind already racing ahead to the dress she would order online. She rummaged through her filing cabinet, producing a folder labeled "Rochelle's Measurements," which she had discreetly taken during one of their sleepovers.

Abunai's eyes scanned the folder, her lips pursed in concentration as she compared dress materials and prices on her laptop. She finally settled on a stunning, floor-length gown in ivory silk, and clicked "buy now" with a satisfied smile.

As she waited for the confirmation email, Abunai turned her attention to the florist's website, her eyes dancing over the different arrangements and bouquets. She was lost in the world of wedding planning when Wilhelm's voice interrupted her, echoing from the intercom on her desk.

"Abunai, darling, can I have a word with you?" Wilhelm's deep, resonant voice sent a shiver down her spine.

Abunai's head whipped up, her expression innocent. "Of course, Wilhelm! What's on your mind?"

Wilhelm's voice was laced with a hesitance Abunai didn't often hear. "I was thinking, perhaps we should discuss a prenuptial agreement...just to, you know, cover our bases."

Abunai's eyes widened in mock surprise, her internal dialogue screaming "What?! No! Absolutely not!" But her mask of composure never wavered. She forced a bright, toothy smile. "Oh, Wilhelm, I think that's a wonderful idea! I had no idea you were worried about that."

As Wilhelm launched into an explanation of his past divorce, complete with tales of lost houses and alimony payments, Abunai's thoughts strayed to Steven. Was he behind this sudden change of heart? She filed the suspicion away for later, her gaze fixed on Wilhelm's face as he spoke.

"...and I promise, Abunai, if we stay together for ten years, you'll receive $300,000. You can stay in the guest house for up to a year if we separate," Wilhelm concluded, his eyes hopeful.

Abunai's face was a picture of acquiescence, but her mind seethed with resentment. She gritted her teeth behind her practiced smile. "That sounds like a fair deal, Wilhelm. I'll meet with your lawyer and review the agreement."

"I knew you'd see it my way, Abunai," Wilhelm said, his voice dripping with relief. "I'll send over the documents, and we can finalize everything."

Abunai nodded, her smile never wavering. "Thank you, Wilhelm. I appreciate your transparency."

Wilhelm beamed, his face lighting up with satisfaction. "I'm glad we could have this conversation, Abunai. I'll let you get back to work. Oh, and one more thing – I'll recommend a lawyer for you to review the agreement. He's a good man, and I trust him implicitly."

Abunai's eyes narrowed, her mind racing with possibilities. She nodded sweetly, her voice dripping with honey. "Thank you, Wilhelm. That's so thoughtful of you."

With a satisfied smile, Wilhelm turned to leave, his eyes lingering on Abunai's face. "I'll let myself out, darling. I'll see you tonight for dinner."

As the door closed behind him, Abunai's mask dropped, her eyes flashing with anger. She ground her teeth, her mind seething with resentment. But she knew she had to keep playing the game, at least for now. She took a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing as she returned to her wedding planning, a smile fixed on her face.

(And this is the end of Part 1, to be continued next year)

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