The Other Appointment

Liza and her parents returned home cloaked in silence. Their heads remained low, avoiding neighbors’ glances as if shame clung to their skin. The embarrassment was sharp, fresh—but under the surface, a different truth pulsed quietly: their daughter had just married into a wealthy family.

A family unknown in the city, yes—but powerful enough that by morning, their faces would be plastered across newspapers and lit up on every screen.

Meanwhile, Kedrick and Alisha had already left for their honeymoon. Perhaps it was easier for them. Maybe being friends made falling in love simpler—or maybe they had been in love all along and hadn’t dared speak it until now.

A week later, Stanley called early in the morning. I wasn’t working that day, and I knew from his voice the moment I answered—he wanted something.

“Hi, Ethan. How’s it, bro?” he said, casual but with that familiar charm. “By the way… would you mind doing me a big favor? I’m heading to the department store with my girlfriend today—and you know how it goes. Ladies can spend hours shopping, man. I need backup,” he laughed. “She’s bringing a friend too, from abroad. Maybe she needs company while they shop?”

His voice dipped into a softer tone, playful and persuasive. I could almost picture the smirk on his face as he waited for my answer.

“Mmmmm.” I let the pause linger—long enough to make him sweat—then finally said, “Okay, you win. But just this once. No more favors after this, alright?”

“Yes! Thanks, bro!” he said, practically shouting into the phone. I could hear the grin in his voice. “What time?” I asked.

“Now. Come pick us up at my place. And bring one of your fancy cars. I know my girl would love that,” he replied, clearly already picturing the look on her face.

“Alright then, see you soon.”

I threw on something casual and headed out the door. As I locked up, a familiar unease crept into my chest. You're probably wondering what happened between me and my family after the wedding. Truth is—I haven’t faced them yet. I’ve been keeping to myself. Knowing my dad, it’s probably better if I show up after two weeks... maybe more.

Ten minutes later, I pulled up at Stanley’s house. He and his girlfriend were waiting outside, both buzzing with excitement. What they didn’t know was that the department store we were headed to—flashy, five floors, chandelier-lit—is owned by my father.

But I didn’t say a word. Some things are better left unsaid. At least for now. I parked and walked over to Stanley while his girlfriend, Shalom, stood nearby, half-laughing into a phone call—probably chatting with her friend Samantha.

“That’s my man,” Stanley mumbled with a grin.

I rolled my eyes. “Come on, man. Why drag me into this? This could’ve been a proper date with your girlfriend—just the two of you.”

Stanley shot me a look, his brows raised. Then he laughed, loud and unapologetic. “Wow. That’s what you think I should’ve done? Okay, then—consider it a double date.”

I froze. A double date? That’s what this was? I blinked, slowly processing. Of course it was his plan. Stanley had been trying to nudge me out of my emotional hole for days now. But this? This wasn’t going to work. At least... that’s what I told myself.

We drove through a few quiet turns before pulling up in front of Samantha’s gate. To my surprise, she was already outside—waiting, glowing.

She stood poised in a sleek blue pencil dress that hugged her figure just right, the kind of outfit that didn’t shout for attention but still stole every glance. Her skin, especially her face, seemed to glow naturally beneath the morning light. When she smiled, I caught a glimpse of dimples—and her teeth, white like fresh snow, flashed with the kind of ease that made you forget what you were thinking.

I stared longer than I meant to. Somewhere between the flutter in my chest and the lump in my throat, I felt something shift. The heavy ache of marrying a stranger—the confusion, the weight—it all faded, like fog burning off under the sun.

Thank you, Stanley, I thought. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea. I turned toward him. He was already grinning, clearly enjoying the show. He snapped his fingers in front of my face like he was waking me from a dream.

“What a beauty,” he said, soft and teasing. “I can see you’re smiling.”

We both laughed—quick, low, and awkwardly honest. Then we straightened up, just in time as the girls walked up to the car, their voices and perfume carrying with them the promise of something new.

Shalom knocked on Stanley's window and gestured for him to lower it. “You and me in the back. Come on—quick,” she said with a mischievous smile.

I blinked. That caught me off guard. I watched as Stanley gave her a look—half surprised, half amused—and then glanced at me. He didn’t say a word. Just opened the door and jumped into the back seat like it had all been rehearsed.

That’s when it clicked. They’d planned this. Why else would Shalom insist on switching places? Weren’t girls supposed to sit together, chatting away in the back while the guys did the driving?

I hesitated, then stepped around the car and opened the front passenger door for her without thinking. A gentleman’s reflex. She smiled, murmured a soft “thank you,” and slid in gracefully.

They laughed behind me—Stanley, Shalom both—clearly entertained by my newfound manners. I even laughed with them, quietly amazed. What is happening to me? This isn’t how I usually behave. At least not with women who aren’t clients or business partners.

We pulled off, headed for the department store. The drive was steady—well, almost. My eyes kept betraying me. I tried to focus on the road, but every few seconds they flicked to her. Just a glance. A curious glimpse. It felt like an involuntary habit, like something magnetic was pulling at my attention.

Then she caught me. Without turning her head, she smiled and said, in a calm, velvet-soft voice, “Can you at least watch the road?”

She laughed gently. Stanley and Shalom burst out laughing behind us, teasing me like we were kids again. I smiled too, sheepish. But inside—I was unraveling.

The city blurred around us—silver buildings, bold billboards, streaks of morning light cutting across the windshield. Stanley and Shalom were laughing over a playlist. Samantha sat quiet beside me, scrolling absently through her phone.

Then my phone rang. My heart lurched when I saw the caller ID: Dad.

I tapped the speaker button.

“Yes, Dad.”

His voice was clipped. Measured. “Ethan, you need to come home tonight. We have to talk. Oh—and one more thing. You have a blind date tonight.”

Then he hung up. The car fell silent. Even the music paused itself. And just like that, my breath caught.

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