Married at First Sight – Episode 10
Grandma Norton stood before the nearly untouched closet, her question hanging in the air like a judge’s verdict. Summer glanced at Christian, but the man who negotiated billion-dollar contracts offered no immediate rescue. One side of the closet held immaculate suits arranged by color; the other contained empty hangers and none of the disorder a newly arrived wife should create.
Summer stepped forward before suspicion hardened into certainty. She explained that her clothes were still in the suitcase because she had only moved in that evening. Work had been overwhelming, and Christian had insisted she come home rather than spend another night alone after a difficult week. The last detail emerged without planning, yet it softened Grandma Norton’s expression.
Christian recovered and placed an arm around Summer’s shoulders. He confirmed that the move had been delayed by her professional obligations, adding that his wife was far too independent to let him organize her life. The affectionate complaint sounded natural because it was true. Summer leaned against him just enough to complete the picture.
Grandma Norton accepted the explanation, though a spark of calculation remained in her eyes. She offered to help unpack after dinner, a threat disguised as generosity. Summer thanked her and promised everything would be arranged before bedtime. If the older woman returned tomorrow, the apartment would need to tell a far more convincing story.
Dinner became an interrogation served with excellent food. Grandma Norton asked how they met, who proposed, and what Summer first admired about Christian. Each invented detail risked contradicting the other, so Summer anchored their answers in truth. She said he had appeared when her life was changing and asked for trust before either of them had earned it.
Christian watched her across the table. When asked what drew him to Summer, he said she saw a person in trouble and helped without knowing what he could offer in return. Grandma Norton called the answer romantic. Summer lowered her gaze because it was too honest to feel like part of their performance.
The questions grew more dangerous. Had they discussed children? Where would they spend holidays? Did Summer know Christian snored after exhausting days? Christian smoothly redirected the conversation, but his grandmother seemed delighted by every flush that rose in Summer’s cheeks.
After dessert, Grandma Norton announced that a married couple should not work constantly. She invited them to a family charity gala in three days and warned that refusal might bring back her mysterious heart condition. Christian agreed before Summer could invent an obligation. The gala would introduce her to a world where every gesture carried public meaning.
When the elevator finally closed behind Grandma Norton, Summer released a breath she felt she had held for hours. Christian complimented her performance. She reminded him that the interrogation existed because he had dragged a stranger into his lie. He corrected her: they had moved well beyond a lie once the certificate became legal.
Summer began unpacking into the empty side of his closet. Her inexpensive clothes looked fragile beside his tailored wardrobe, but Christian made no comparison. He removed several suit boxes to create more space and asked whether she needed additional shelves. The ordinary question felt more intimate than his teasing.
They agreed on practical boundaries. Summer would keep the guest suite as a private workspace but sleep in the master bedroom whenever Grandma Norton might visit unexpectedly. Christian would use the couch on those nights. Neither would enter the other’s personal belongings, and the marriage would not create romantic obligations.
Christian accepted every rule, then asked for one of his own: if Summer faced another threat like Penny’s, she would tell him the full truth rather than hiding it out of pride. She objected that he was not responsible for solving her problems. He said partnership was not the same as rescue.
The distinction unsettled her. Vincent had called dependence love while taking everything she gave. Christian described partnership as the freedom to ask and the freedom to refuse. Summer agreed cautiously, aware that trusting his definition required more courage than distrusting everyone.
Near midnight, the apartment’s automated system malfunctioned after Grandma Norton remotely activated a newlywed security setting she had arranged as a “gift.” The guest suite locked for maintenance, leaving only the master bedroom accessible until morning. Christian stared at the control panel and muttered that his grandmother’s talents were wasted outside corporate espionage.
Summer tried not to laugh. Christian offered her the bed and prepared to take the bedroom sofa, but it was too short for his height. Watching the feared billionaire fold himself onto it stirred guilty amusement. She suggested placing pillows down the center of the mattress and sharing the bed without crossing the boundary.
Christian agreed, though his expression became unreadable. They lay on opposite sides beneath the dim city light, separated by a ridiculous wall of pillows. Summer had imagined wealth would make his life louder, yet the silence around him seemed practiced. She wondered how many nights he had returned to these rooms with no one waiting.
He asked whether she regretted marrying him. Summer admitted she had not had enough time to decide. Then she asked the same question. Christian turned his head toward her and said he regretted only that she still expected him to disappear the moment the arrangement became inconvenient.
Before Summer could answer, the lights shut off automatically. In the darkness, her hand shifted across the sheets and brushed Christian’s. Neither moved away. The pillow barrier remained intact, but their fingers rested together in the narrow space between them as sleep slowly erased the distance they had promised to maintain.
