Chapter 4 - The Version Oliver Knew

Oliver arrived at Sofia’s flat carrying no flowers, no wine, and no apology gift.

She noticed immediately.

“Good,” she said.

He removed his wet coat.

“What?”

“You didn’t bring anything.”

“I almost did.”

“What stopped you?”

“I thought you might accuse me of turning guilt into shopping.”

Sofia stared at him.

“My father said that.”

“I know.”

“You spoke to him?”

“No. You told me.”

“Oh.”

They stood awkwardly in the hall of the flat they were supposed to move out of after the wedding.

Two weeks ago they had spent an entire Sunday arguing cheerfully about whether they needed a second bedroom in their next place.

Now marriage felt less like a date on a calendar and more like a series of questions nobody had asked properly.

Oliver sat at the kitchen counter.

Sofia remained standing.

“Tell me exactly why you called Mateo.”

He nodded.

“After you told me about the twelve thousand, I started thinking about the wedding budget.”

Sofia’s eyebrows rose.

“That sounds terrible already.”

“I know.”

“Continue.”

“My parents are paying for most of the venue. You and I are covering the rest. I thought if your father was still struggling with debt from your education, maybe spending thirty thousand pounds on a wedding was—”

“Thirty?”

Oliver stopped.

Sofia stared at him.

“Our wedding costs thirty thousand pounds?”

“Closer to thirty-two.”

She sat down.

“How did I not know that?”

“You do know.”

“No. I know individual numbers. Venue. Food. Flowers. Photographer. I never added them.”

“I did.”

“And you were fine with it?”

“I thought we were.”

Sofia rubbed her forehead.

“Dad owes eight thousand four hundred to the bank and two thousand to his brother.”

Oliver said nothing.

“The wedding costs three times that.”

“Yes.”

“And my father is doing evening deliveries.”

“Yes.”

She stood again.

“I feel sick.”

Oliver watched her.

“This is exactly why I called Mateo. Not because I wanted to secretly pay him. I wanted to know whether your father’s family debt was urgent before we committed more money to the wedding.”

“You still went around me.”

“Yes.”

“And around Dad.”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you ask me first?”

Oliver leaned his elbows on the counter.

“Because every conversation about your father was exploding.”

“That’s not an excuse.”

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

“A bad decision made for a reason.”

Sofia stared at him.

He continued.

“You were crying every night. Your father was hurt. My parents were trying not to make anything worse. I thought one quiet phone call could tell me whether there was a practical emergency.”

“And then?”

“And Mateo told me to mind my business.”

“Good.”

Oliver almost smiled.

“He was more elegant than that.”

“What exactly did he say?”

“He said, ‘If Luis needs help, Luis can ask. If Sofia needs help, Sofia can ask. If you want to marry into this family, learn the difference between support and trespassing.’”

Sofia blinked.

“That sounds exactly like him.”

“It was effective.”

She sat again.

Oliver took out his phone.

“I also want to show you something.”

Sofia tensed.

“What?”

“Our wedding spreadsheet.”

“Please don’t tell me there’s another secret.”

“There isn’t.”

He opened the file and turned the screen toward her.

For the first time Sofia looked at the total.

£32,680.

Her stomach tightened.

“That is obscene.”

“It is expensive.”

“No, Oliver. It is obscene.”

“My parents offered.”

“That doesn’t make it normal.”

“It is normal for my family.”

She looked at him.

The words landed quietly.

There it was.

Not cruelty.

Not arrogance.

Difference.

Oliver saw her reaction.

“I’m not saying it has to be normal for us.”

“But you didn’t question it.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I grew up with weddings like this.”

Sofia laughed without humor.

“And I grew up turning the heating off before bed to save money.”

“I know that now.”

She looked at the spreadsheet.

“No. You know the sentence.”

Oliver leaned back.

“What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then don’t make me guess.”

The firmness surprised her.

Sofia looked up.

Oliver continued.

“You’re angry because I made a decision without you. Fair. But if we’re going to fix that, you cannot expect me to read your mind now.”

She took a breath.

“I want to cut the wedding.”

“How much?”

“A lot.”

“Because of your father?”

“Because I don’t want to spend thirty-two thousand on one day.”

“That answer came quickly.”

“Because I should have asked myself months ago.”

Oliver was quiet.

Sofia looked at him.

“Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Want a thirty-two-thousand-pound wedding?”

He thought for several seconds.

“No.”

Her eyes widened.

“Then why are we having one?”

“My mother likes the venue.”

Sofia stared.

Oliver laughed once.

“That sounds worse out loud.”

“Much worse.”

“And you liked the photographs.”

“I did.”

“And we kept saying yes to things.”

Sofia looked again at the spreadsheet.

“We built a wedding the same way I built the lie about Dad.”

Oliver frowned.

“How?”

“One adjustment at a time.”

He understood.

She continued.

“I didn’t wake up one day and decide to invent an entire successful father. I changed one description. Then another. Then I avoided correcting people because correction was uncomfortable.”

Oliver tapped the spreadsheet.

“And we added one expense at a time until thirty thousand felt like a reasonable total.”

“Yes.”

He closed the file.

“What do you want instead?”

Sofia pictured the engagement dinner.

A table.

Too many flowers.

An empty chair.

“I want everyone there.”

Oliver nodded.

“Good start.”

“I want Dad to be able to come without feeling like he has to buy a new suit.”

“Agreed.”

“I want food people actually eat.”

“My father will fight you over the tiny vegetable things.”

“He can.”

Oliver smiled.

“And?”

“I want to pay for it ourselves.”

His smile faded.

“That changes things.”

“I know.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to build our marriage with money we never had to think about.”

Oliver sat back.

“My parents will think we’re rejecting them.”

“Are we?”

“No. But that is how my mother may hear it.”

Sofia nodded.

“Then we explain.”

He studied her.

“You’ve changed a lot in four days.”

“No. I’ve become uncomfortable enough to notice things.”

“That sounds more accurate.”

Her phone rang.

Luis.

Sofia answered.

“Dad?”

“Mateo just left.”

“How did it go?”

“Long.”

“Good long or bad long?”

“Both.”

She looked at Oliver.

“Do you want me to come over?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

A pause.

Luis said, “You did not ask what we talked about.”

Sofia smiled.

“I’m growing.”

“Slowly.”

“Very.”

Luis’s voice softened.

“He said he will come for dinner next Sunday.”

Sofia’s eyes widened.

“At your place?”

“Yes.”

“With Aunt Elena?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good.”

“It is something.”

Sofia understood the distinction.

“Dad, can I ask you a different question?”

“You are already asking.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Would you be offended if Oliver and I changed the wedding?”

Luis was silent.

“Why would I be offended?”

“We might make it smaller.”

“That sounds sensible.”

“We might pay for it ourselves.”

“That sounds expensive.”

“Less expensive than now.”

“What is now?”

Sofia hesitated.

Oliver mouthed, Tell him.

“Thirty-two thousand.”

Silence.

Then Luis said, “For a wedding?”

“Yes.”

“Does the building become yours afterward?”

“No.”

“Then no.”

Sofia laughed.

Oliver covered his face.

Luis continued.

“That is not my decision.”

“I know.”

“And do not cancel things because of my loan.”

“I’m not.”

“Are you sure?”

Sofia looked at the spreadsheet.

“I’m canceling things because I finally added them up.”

“That is different.”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

She hesitated.

“Would you come to lunch with Oliver’s parents?”

Luis sighed.

“They are not the enemy, Sofia.”

“I know.”

“You keep talking as if there are two armies.”

“I’m trying to stop.”

“Then stop.”

Sofia smiled.

“Is that a yes?”

“When?”

“Saturday?”

“I work until one.”

“Two?”

“Fine.”

After the call, Oliver said, “Your father is terrifying.”

“He likes you.”

“How can you tell?”

“He hasn’t called you ‘that architect.’”

“I’m not an architect.”

“Exactly.”

Oliver laughed.

The tension eased.

Then Sofia became serious.

“We need to tell your parents we’re changing the wedding.”

“Yes.”

“Together.”

“Yes.”

“And no more calls to my relatives without asking.”

“Yes.”

“And I have to stop deciding how you’ll react before I tell you things.”

“Yes.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“You’re enjoying this.”

“A little.”

She threw a tea towel at him.

He caught it.

Then he placed it on the counter and looked at her carefully.

“There is one more thing.”

Sofia’s stomach tightened.

“Oliver.”

“It’s not a secret.”

“That phrase is now banned.”

He nodded.

“Fair.”

“What?”

“My mother called this morning.”

Sofia waited.

“She asked whether we were still getting married.”

The question hurt more than she expected.

“What did you say?”

“That I hoped so.”

Sofia looked down at her ring.

“Hoped?”

Oliver’s voice was gentle.

“I love you. I want to marry you. But I don’t want us to use the wedding as proof that everything is fine.”

She pressed her lips together.

“So the engagement is uncertain.”

“The engagement is honest.”

“That sounds like consultant language.”

“You are the consultant.”

“Don’t use my weapons against me.”

He reached across the counter.

She looked at his hand before taking it.

Oliver said, “I need to trust that when something is ugly or embarrassing, you will tell me before I discover it at a side entrance.”

Sofia nodded.

“And I need to trust that you won’t investigate my life behind my back because you think you’re being practical.”

He nodded.

“Agreed.”

For the first time since the restaurant, the word marriage did not feel like something they were losing.

It felt like something they had not yet earned.

That evening they went through the wedding spreadsheet line by line.

They cut the flower wall.

The champagne tower.

The vintage car.

The personalized napkins neither could remember choosing.

They kept the photographer.

They kept the food.

They kept the small band because Sofia loved dancing and Oliver loved watching her forget to be self-conscious.

At midnight the new total was £11,940.

Sofia stared at the screen.

“That is still ridiculous.”

Oliver nodded.

“But less ridiculous.”

She laughed.

Then she pointed at a line.

“Why are there four hundred pounds of candles?”

Oliver frowned.

“I have no idea.”

They deleted them.

£11,540.

Sofia looked at him.

“Tomorrow we tell your parents.”

“And Saturday your father meets them properly.”

Her stomach tightened.

“Are you nervous?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“Why good?”

“Because if you weren’t nervous, I’d assume you were planning everyone’s conversation in advance.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder.

“I probably am.”

“Stop.”

“I’m trying.”

He kissed her hair.

On the laptop, the wedding total remained open.

For the first time, Sofia did not see a number that proved she belonged in Oliver’s world.

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