The faint sound of birds chirping filtered through the half-open window as Ethan Blake stood behind his camera, framing the perfect shot. His fingers hovered over the camera button, the world around him silent except for nature's gentle whispers.
Click.
He lowered the camera, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Moments like these made him feel alive — capturing raw, unfiltered beauty in its most vulnerable state. But even this peace was short-lived. His phone buzzed in his back pocket.
With a sigh, Ethan checked the screen. Mom.
He ignored it, focusing on the sunflower again. Moments later, it buzzed again. And again.
"Persistent as always," he muttered, pocketing the phone and returning to his shot. But his peace was gone. He knew his mother well enough to know that ignoring her would only make things worse.
By the time he arrived at the Blake family estate, the sun had begun to set. His parents were waiting for him in the dining room. His mother, Eleanor Blake, sat with perfect posture, her hands clasped neatly on the table. His father, Henry Blake, leaned back in his chair, watching Ethan with quiet calculation.
"Nice of you to join us, son," Henry said.
"Wasn't aware it was mandatory," Ethan replied, his tone light but his face set in stone. He grabbed a glass of water from the counter and sat at the table, already bracing for the inevitable lecture.
Eleanor wasted no time. "We've been discussing your future, Ethan."
He took a sip, his eyes narrowing. "I have a future, Mom. I don't recall asking you to plan it for me."
"You need a wife," Eleanor said bluntly.
Ethan nearly choked on his water. "I need a what?"
"A wife," Henry repeated, his voice firmer than his wife's. "It's time, Ethan. You're 30, and it's time to think about legacy."
"I'm thinking about my career," Ethan replied. "Isn't that enough?"
"No," Eleanor snapped. "Careers fade. Families don't." She folded her hands neatly. "We've spoken to the Reeds. Their daughter, Amelia, is a respectable young woman with her own business. No scandals, no issues, just a good match for you."
Ethan let out a bitter laugh. "Did you hear yourself just now? I'm not picking a horse at an auction, Mom. I'm a person. I love Claire, remember?"
Eleanor's expression hardened. "Claire Bennett is a sweet girl, but she is not your future."
"Eleanor," Henry cut in, his voice sharp but calm. "This is not a negotiation. We've already spoken with the Reeds, and they've agreed. You'll meet Amelia soon. The wedding will be arranged accordingly."
Ethan felt his chest tighten. "You can't force me into this."
Henry stood, towering over him. "You're my son. I can and will do what's best for you. Love isn't required, Ethan. Legacy is."
Ethan's fists clenched. His father's words echoed in his head long after he left the room.
---
Alone in his apartment later that night, Ethan stood by his window, gazing at the city lights. His phone buzzed again. It was a message from Claire Bennett: "Can't wait to see you tomorrow."
Claire has been part of his life, he can not imagine his self choosing another woman.
His heart ached with guilt. His eyes stayed on her name for a long time. Then, slowly, he turned off his phone and stared into the night.
"Legacy, huh?" he muttered. "What a joke."