Rejected: A love story-Chapter 60: The plan

HGot it. Straightforward prose, **no poetic fluff**, no "lights dancing," no metaphors

Natasha drove off the main road and turned onto a narrow stretch hidden by tall trees on both sides. The road wasn’t paved properly, just smooth enough for a car to pass without drawing attention. Anyone unfamiliar with the area would assume it led nowhere.

She slowed down as the trees thickened, then stopped in front of a medium-sized house tucked deep into the land. It was neat. Too neat for somewhere this isolated. Clean walls, a well-kept lawn, warm lights glowing behind drawn curtains. It didn’t look abandoned, and it didn’t look like a family lived there either.

Natasha stepped out of the car.

She was dressed gracefully —black fitted trousers, a cream blouse tucked in, and a low heels. Along with a designer handbag hung from her shoulder. She wore dark shades which covered her eyes even though the sun was already fading. She looked composed as she walked up to the door and rang the bell once.

It didn’t take long for the door opened to open, revealing a woman in her late thirties. She wore a short silk robe that barely reached her mid-thigh, loose enough to show some skin without trying too hard. Her hair was styled, she had her makeup done, and wore lips glossy. She looked like someone who paid attention to how she appeared, even in private.

She smiled when she saw Natasha.

"Natasha," she said warmly.

Natasha smiled back, genuine this time.

They leaned in, exchanging quick kisses on both cheeks like old friends. The woman wrapped her arms around Natasha in a tight hug.

"You look stressed," she murmured.

"You have no idea," Natasha replied, pulling back.

"Come in."

The living room was clean a modern house furnished with intention. Nothing personal on display, no family photos. The woman closed the door and locked it.

"have a sit," she said, already walking toward a small bar area.

Natasha removed her shades and placed them on the table before sitting down. Her face looked tired up close. Not physically—emotionally.

The woman poured wine into two glasses and handed one to her before sitting across from her.

"You look exhausted emotionally," the woman said calmly.

Natasha scoffed. "I didn’t come here to be analyzed." 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

"So," the woman said sipping her wine. "Tell me. How’s my favorite mess doing?"

Natasha laughed bitterly and took a long sip.

"My life is a joke."

The woman sat across from her, crossing her legs slowly. "Is this about Nathan?"

"When is it not?"

Natasha took a slow sip of the wine, then set the glass down harder than necessary.

"She’s disrupting everything," Natasha said. "Everything I’ve been trying to fix."

The woman didn’t interrupt, she let her speak.

"That girl," Natasha continued, irritation rising, "Fiona. She’s everywhere. Nathan listens to her. Looks at her like she’s the only thing that matters."

"And Leo?" the woman asked quietly.

Natasha’s lips pressed together. "That’s the worst part. The boy likes her."

The woman leaned back slightly. "Likes her how?"

"He listens to her, smiles around her. Talks to her." Natasha shook her head. "He doesn’t even do that with me."

The woman took a sip of her wine. "That was predictable."

Natasha looked up sharply. "What?"

"You brought a stranger into a fragile structure and expected loyalty," the woman said. "Children attach quickly. Especially to softness."

Natasha frowned. "Don’t make it sound like this is my fault."

"It is," the woman replied flatly. "But that’s not the problem."

"The problem," the woman continued, "is that you’re reacting instead of taking control."

Natasha’s fingers tightened around her glass. "I’m losing him."

"No," the woman corrected. "You’re losing control over him. There’s a difference."

Silence stretched between them.

"You don’t need to get rid of the girl yet," the woman said finally.

Natasha exhaled sharply. "Then what do I do? Watch her settle into my house like she belongs there?"

"You let her," the woman replied. "Comfort makes people careless."

Natasha’s eyes narrowed. "Explain."

"She’s young," the woman said. "She thinks love protects her. She’ll speak too freely. Trust too much. All you have to do is give her room."

Natasha shook her head. "Nathan won’t let that happen."

"He doesn’t have to," the woman said. "You’re not fighting Nathan. You’re shaping what he sees."

Natasha leaned forward. "How?"

"You introduce doubt," the woman said calmly. "Not accusations."

Natasha considered this. "He’s obsessed with her."

"Obsessions crack, Natasha," the woman replied. "Especially when jealousy is involved."

Natasha went still.

"There are already pictures," the woman continued. "People are watching. Moments like that can be misunderstood."

Natasha’s eyes flickered. "You know about that?"

The woman smiled slightly. "You don’t live a life like yours without being observed."

Natasha looked away.

"You don’t expose anything directly," the woman said. "You let him discover them piece by piece. You let him question her honesty."

"How about Leo?" Natasha asked quietly.

The woman’s gaze sharpened. "You stop competing with her over the child."

Natasha frowned. "I can’t."

"You must," the woman said. "You push too hard, you lose him completely. Let the boy drift.... let him compare."

Natasha swallowed. "And if he chooses her?"

The woman leaned forward, voice firm. "Then you remind him who built the world he lives in."

Natasha looked at her, breathing shallow.

"You’re not powerless," the woman said. "You’re impatient."

Natasha stared into her wine, then nodded slowly.

"What’s the first move?" she asked.

The woman smiled, finally as she set her glass down and leaned forward.

"You’re approaching this the wrong way," she said. "You keep trying to block instead of redirect."

Natasha crossed her arms. "I’m listening."

"For the boy," the woman continued, "you stop being distant. Completely."

Natasha frowned. "That’s not—"

"You buy what children love," the woman cut in. "Chocolates, Ice cream, small toys. Nothing expensive. You pick him up from school sometimes, you smile at him. You ask about his day. You listen."

Natasha scoffed. "He barely talks to me."

"That’s because you don’t make him feel safe," the woman replied. "Children trust consistency. You show up. Again and again. You don’t interrogate him. You don’t compete with anyone. You just exist for him."

Natasha was quiet.

"You earn his trust slowly," the woman said. "Once he trusts you, you don’t need to fight for his loyalty. It will come naturally."

"And Fiona?" Natasha asked, her tone sharp.

The woman didn’t hesitate. "You stop treating her like an enemy."

Natasha laughed bitterly. "You’re joking."

"I’m not," the woman said calmly. "You smile at her. You compliment her. You invite her into conversations. You act like you’ve accepted her completely."

Natasha’s face hardened. "That’s impossible."

"You don’t have to mean it," the woman replied. "You just have to make them buy it."

Natasha stood up and started pacing. "You’re asking me to sit back and watch her take over my life."

"No," the woman corrected. "I’m asking you to change how she’s perceived."

Natasha stopped pacing.

"You gather everyone with warmth," the woman continued. "Family dinners, engage in polite conversations. Supportive gestures.... you let them see a different version of you."

Natasha turned back to her. "And Nathan?"

"That’s the point," the woman said. "If you’re convincing enough, Nathan will start trusting you again."

Natasha shook her head slowly. "I can’t do that. It feels like stabbing myself."

The woman stood up too now, meeting her eye level.

"Then you can keep losing," she said bluntly. "Because right now, your anger is making you predictable."

Natasha clenched her jaw. "I hate her."

"I know," the woman replied. "That’s why you’re failing."

Silence filled the room for a moment.

"You don’t fight love with force," the woman continued. "You fight it with comfort. With patience. With the illusion of peace."

Natasha exhaled sharply. "And when everyone lets their guard down?"

The woman smiled faintly. "Then you decide your next move."

Natasha looked away, then back again. "This better work."

"It will," the woman said. "If you put your emotions aside."

Natasha picked up her bag, her expression tight but determined.

"I’ll try," she said.

"You won’t try," the woman corrected. "You’ll follow through."

Natasha hesitated, then nodded once, without another word, she walked toward the door and left.

The woman remained standing, watching the door close.

Her expression didn’t change, she already knew Natasha would do exactly as she was told.