The Proposal

Silence had lingered throughout Asher and Dahlia’s interaction, but this moment was heavier and unrelenting than all the others combined. Asher hesitated, unsure of how to respond. For once, words seemed useless. Dahlia had opened up a piece of herself, something raw and painful, and now he was stuck, afraid that saying the wrong thing might make it worse.

He didn’t want to say something inappropriate or intrusive. This was a vulnerable moment for Dahlia, and he wanted to comfort her, but only in the right way.

Dahlia’s gaze lingered on him, softening bit by bit as she searched his face for something—understanding, maybe, or validation. She was assessing his expression for a sign of what he thought about her through her words. 

But his hesitation lasted too long, and her expression shifted. Doubt crept into her mind. Regret began to cloud her features. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and her eyes turned distant, like she was pulling herself back together.

A tear slipped down her cheek. Asher moved without thinking, reaching out to wipe it away, but she turned her head quickly. She brushed the tear away herself, her hand trembling slightly as she straightened up, rising to her feet as if to put distance between them.

“Well, It's getting late, sir,” she said, her voice shaky but attempting to sound casual. “You should probably be go. I wouldn’t want Chloe to worry about you.”

Her attempt to change the subject came with a forced, uneven smile as she turned to him. She was trying so hard to act like it didn’t matter, like none of it had happened, trying to steer the conversation away from her own pain. But her effort to brush things aside only made Asher’s resolve harden. This wasn’t over. Not yet. Too much had been left unsaid.

Asher stayed frozen in place, his chest tightening. Seeing her cover her pain with politeness—it made something inside him ache. How could he walk away now, knowing that the words she’d said had cost her so much to share?

Dahlia turned away, her back to Asher as she spoke, her voice low and steady, despite how sad she felt. “I’ll be in the kitchen. You can see yourself out. But… thank you. For coming over. For talking to me. I appreciate it.”

She took a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling, and was just about to take a step when Asher's voice stopped her.

“Why?”

It wasn’t loud, but it carried a weight that made her pause. His tone was high yet gentle, pleading, and full of passionate sincerity.

The words almost came out like a whisper but it wasn't.

Slowly, Dahlia turned to face him. She found him on his feet, his expression unreadable but his eyes filled with something she couldn’t quite place. “What?” she asked quietly, her voice strained and hoarse from crying.

Her face was still streaked with tears, exhaustion and confusion.

“Why did you never cry about him?” Asher repeated, his tone calmer now, softer, yet laced with an understanding that strangely eased Dahlia’s aching heart, as if he understood how fragile this moment was.

In calculated strides, Asher approached her, stopping at a respectful distance—one that felt safe, neutral, and carried no intentions beyond friendship.

He was neither too close nor too far, just enough to make her feel at ease.

“When… Amelia died, I was a mess,” he began, his voice tight with emotion. “It was impossible to hide.” He paused, as if debating whether to continue, then took a deep breath and pressed on. “Catherine… she was the one who pulled me through. No matter how much I buried myself in work, the pain never went away. It consumed me.”

He paused, his gaze steady on her, searching her expression. “It was loss, and it was unbearable. That’s what grief does. It demands to be felt.”

Asher swallowed hard, his voice dipping into something quieter, almost reverent. “So why, Dahlia? Why did you never let yourself mourn him?”

Dahlia’s mouth parted, but the words had a hard time coming out. “I guess I just… I… I don’t know,” she admitted softly, her voice barely audible.

Asher nodded, understanding without judgment.

He stepped closer, throwing caution to the wind and hesitating for only a moment before speaking in a voice that was low and soothing. “Maybe the tears are just the words you couldn’t say to him.”

Dahlia blinked, her brows furrowing in surprise. His words struck a chord deep within her, making her feel seen and validated in a way she hadn’t experienced before. Slowly, her hand moved to rest over her heart.

“You’re right,” she whispered, her voice a mix of awe and vulnerability. “Every word you just said… it’s the truth my heart has been searching for. It’s strange, isn’t it? How loss can feel like something you’re only just starting to understand?”

She took a small step forward, narrowing the distance between them.

“It definitely is strange,” Asher replied, taking the final step that erased the space between them. “Would you like to sit and talk about it? I want to understand you.”

His tone softened even further, filled with sincerity. “I’m sorry if this feels intrusive or like I’m opening scars you’d rather keep hidden. But you’re important—not just to my daughter, but to me as well. I want to be better, to show you the kindness and support you’ve shown Chloe. I admit I’ve been harsh, and I want to do, to you and everyone I work with. Because, I’ve learned that sometimes… rainy days last longer than we expect, and everyone needs an umbrella.”

Dahlia looked at him, her expression softening as a small smile tugged at her lips. After a moment, she replied, “I think I’d prefer a raincoat.”

Asher chuckled softly, his demeanor warm and comforting. He gently took her hand in his and guided her back to the couch.

As they sat, he spoke with quiet reassurance. “Take your time. Whenever you’re ready.”

“You sound like a therapist,” Dahlia muttered with a small smile, earning a soft laugh from both of them.

She took a deep breath, her fingers lacing together nervously. Then, with a quiet resolve, she began.

“When I first got accepted into a university in London to study finance, my father was the happiest person in the world. But at the time, my family was at a crossroads. We had no money to fund my education. My mother suggested I defer my admission, work for a year, and then return, but my father wouldn’t hear of it. He took out his first big loan to see me through school. He made me promise to focus on my studies and become the first graduate in our family.”

Her voice faltered slightly, and she paused to collect herself. “I always dreamed of running to him, holding my certificate, shouting, ‘Dad, I did it! I’m a graduate! The first ever!’ But that… that never happened.”

Asher’s heart ached at the pain in her words. His voice was gentle, yet earnest. “I’m so sorry,” he said softly, his empathy evident in his tone.

Dahlia sucked her teeth, her tone detached as she replied, “It’s fine. I learned to live with it.”

“No one should have to learn to live with pain,” Asher said immediately, his voice firm yet empathetic.

“Sometimes pain becomes the only thing that makes sense once you’ve lived in it for too long,” Dahlia said solemnly, her gaze distant.

Asher shook his head gently. “Don’t think that way. It’s not healthy.”

Dahlia tilted her head slightly, a flicker of surprise in her expression. “I never expected you to be like this.”

“Like what?”

“I always saw you as a disciplinarian. A cold-hearted kind of boss. But underneath, you’re actually kind and… deeply understanding,” Dahlia admitted, her voice laced with unexpected admiration.

Asher let out a soft chuckle. “Well, you know what they say—‘don’t judge a book by its cover.’”

“That’s true,” Dahlia said, nodding thoughtfully.

After a brief pause, Asher’s tone softened as he asked, “Can you… carry on?”

Dahlia took a breath and nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

She exhaled slowly, steadying herself before continuing. “Well… I… I heard about my father’s death a day before my final exams. I didn’t know what to do. I was broken, completely shattered. I even thought about abandoning my exams and coming home, but my mother wouldn’t hear of it. She said my father wouldn’t have wanted me to give up.”

Her voice wavered, but she pressed on. “Somehow, I managed not to fail, even though my mind was elsewhere. I couldn’t cry. It was like my brain told me I had to be the eldest daughter now, had to be strong. Jonathan, my younger brother, tried to hold back his tears too. He kept saying, ‘I’m the man of the family now. I have to be tough.’”

Dahlia’s hands trembled slightly as she continued, her words heavy with emotion. “Mom buried herself in work to keep us afloat while dealing with her own grief. We were all so busy trying to survive, trying to hold everything together, that we barely had time for each other. I became consumed with clearing my father’s debts after graduation, and Jonathan threw himself into school.” She paused, her voice breaking. “We were so focused on everything else… we had no time for Lorelei.”

“Lorelei? Your younger sister?” Asher inquired gently.

“Yes,” Dahlia answered softly, her voice trembling. “She blamed herself for my father’s death. He was on his way to pick her up when the accident happened, so she carried the burden of it all. We weren’t there for her, and she turned to her friends. A few cigarettes—maybe more—and eventually, she was diagnosed with leukemia. We felt guilty, tried to be there for her, and thankfully, after a lot of treatment and expenses, she got better. Things were... not perfect, but they were fine. And now, her leukemia’s back. I can’t help but wonder if she’s gone back to smoking or if there’s something worse she’s hiding."

Dahlia paused, her words hanging in the air. She wiped away a tear, her breath shaky.

Asher sat in silence, weighing his next words, his expression unreadable.

Finally, he spoke, his voice steady but careful. “Dahlia, I have a proposal for you.”

She turned to him, her hand tightening around the pendant on her neck. a It seemed like a physical mantra that eased her. “What is it?” she asked, her voice edged with uncertainty.

“I’ll pay off your family’s debt. I’ll make sure your family is taken care of, if you agree to come back and stay with Chloe.” Asher’s words hung in the air, his offer raw and genuine.

Dahlia's brows shot up, perplexed by his words and obviously not happy.