Breaking Up

The car moved in an eerie kind of silence.

Not the comforting kind.

But the kind that made you want to jump out the window just to make sure you were still alive.

Silvia sat frozen in the passenger seat, hands clenched tightly around the hem of her school skirt, as cold as the leather seat pressing against her skin. Her eyes flicked toward the man driving-her father-jaw tight as stone, fingers gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white.

Usually, by now, the car would be filled with his complaints.

Sharp, cutting words, like bullets:

"You're too slow. You can't think like a normal person. Why do you always embarrass this family?"

But today? Nothing.

And that was worse.

Way worse.

"Why isn't he saying anything?" Silvia's heart started to race, thudding faster than the steady hum of the engine.

"Dad..." Her voice came out like a trapped mouse. Small. Barely there.

Before she could say more, he interrupted her. Quiet voice. Razor-sharp edge.

"We're not going home."

Silvia blinked. "What?"

"We're going to the hospital."

Three words. Flat. Cold.

But they landed like a grenade.

She sat up straighter. "What do you mean?"

"You need help," he said, eyes still fixed on the road. "And I've let this go on for too long. You're not a child anymore, Silvia. I can't keep cleaning up after your mistakes. I won't let this destroy my reputation."

His reputation.

Of course. This wasn't about her.

It was about him.

"I'm not sick..." she whispered, the words trembling on her lips.

"That's not what I meant."

He looked at her-finally.

Just for a second.

His gaze was like a laser cutting straight through her.

"Your brain. The way you think. It's not normal."

It didn't sound like an insult.

It sounded like a diagnosis. Like a scientific fact.

Your eyes are brown.

The sky is cloudy.

Your mind isn't normal.

The car turned down a road she didn't recognize. The pavement was still slick with rain, reflecting the streetlights in dull, golden puddles. Silvia leaned her head against the window and bit back tears.

Her hand curled into a fist against her lap, brushing the faint, still-healing scar on her wrist.

She wanted to scream.

She wanted to argue.

But she said nothing.

Maybe out of fear.

The hospital loomed like a prison painted white. Too clean to feel human.

Tests. So many tests.

Blood pressure. Temperature. Neurological scans.

No explanations.

No conversation.

She wasn't a person to them. Just data. A subject.

Afterwards, she sat in a quiet waiting room, staring at a tank full of fish swimming behind glass. Their world looked... peaceful. Like they knew something she didn't.

Then the door opened. A nurse called, "Silvia Avislana, please come in."

One last look at the fish. Then she stood and followed.

The doctor's office was a sea of white. Floor to ceiling. Like even the walls didn't dare be anything else.

The doctor was young. Professional. Glasses, clipboard, tense energy.

She flipped through the test results, then looked up.

"Mr. Nolan," she began, eyes flicking between father and daughter. "We've completed all examinations. And... we found something interesting."

Silvia's heart pounded.

"Physically and mentally, your daughter is healthy. However..."

She hesitated.

"What?" her father snapped.

"We found that her brain processes information... at a highly abnormal speed. Each neural cell transmits signals about seven times faster than average. It's extremely rare. Comparable to the way flies perceive time-they move so quickly, they experience the world in slow motion. Silvia's brain functions in a similar way."

Her father's face darkened. "So she's... broken?"

"No," the doctor said firmly. "She's a genius. A very specific, very intense kind of genius. But the kind that can be... terrifying. She thinks too fast. It's not a disease. It's not something to cure. It's not even something we know how to cure. The only way to slow her down would be to dumb her down. And once someone's been this smart... they forget what it's like to be anything else."

"If that's true," her father said with a bitter sneer, "you'd be surprised how many dumb decisions she's made."

"That's a matter of perspective," the doctor replied calmly. "You know her best. And maybe you're the only one who can help her adjust to a world that moves so much slower than she does."

Silvia turned toward the doctor. "So... there's nothing wrong with me?"

The doctor offered a gentle smile. "No, Silvia. There's more right with you than anyone's ready for."

Her father said nothing.

He looked like he'd been slapped by the truth.

Finally, he stood. "Let's go."

The rain had gotten heavier by the time they got in the car again.

But this time, Silvia's silence wasn't fearful.

It was charged. Like lightning just waiting for somewhere to strike.

"Silvia," her father said suddenly, "I'm glad you're not sick. But that doesn't excuse what you did yesterday. I'm not going to keep getting calls from your professors."

She didn't answer.

"From now on, think before you act. Be normal."

That word again.

Normal.

"I understand," she said quietly.

"There's a guest at the house. A business partner. I need you to join the meeting."

She frowned. "Why?"

"Because it involves you."

The driveway was lit with dim, golden light. Rain pooled on the concrete, reflecting shadows of swaying trees.

A white luxury car sat parked at the gate. Sleek. Expensive. So out of place it looked like a swan in a swamp.

Silvia stepped out into the rain, tilting her face upward. The drops felt like cold needles on her skin.

She took a breath and walked inside.

A tall man in a white suit sat sipping tea on the sofa like he owned the world. Beside him, a boy sat with messy black hair half-covering his face.

Silvia froze in the doorway. "Waksi?"

The boy looked up in shock. "Silvia? What are you doing here?"

"This is my house."

"Wait, what?" His eyes darted to the man beside him. "You're... Mr. Nolan's daughter?"

Footsteps echoed from the hallway. Her father entered, having swapped his blazer for a dark sweater. He looked more relaxed-but his gaze was sharp as ever.

"So you two already know each other," he said. "Good. That will make this easier."

Waksi stood. "Dad, what is this? Why are we even here?"

His father answered calmly but firmly, "This isn't just business. This is a deal."

"A deal about what?" Silvia asked, unease crawling up her spine.

The two men exchanged a look.

"You and Waksi," the man in white said. "You're getting engaged."

Silence.

Then a crack of thunder outside. As if the sky itself had gasped.

"What?!" Silvia and Waksi said at the same time.

Silvia took a step forward, face pale. "This is a joke... right?"

"This is business," her father said. "Our companies are merging. And we're sealing the agreement the traditional way. Through marriage."

"This is insane!" Waksi barked. "We're not even compatible! We argue every week! Silvia's-she's weird. She says things that make zero sense. I don't even like her."

"And you're not exactly easy to be around either!" Silvia snapped. "You're stubborn, antisocial, impossible to work with. Dad, please-don't do this. I don't like him."

Her father stood. Calm but deadly. "This isn't about like or dislike. This is about your future. You just need to pretend. Until the time is right."

"Pretend?" Waksi laughed bitterly. "So we're actors in your corporate drama now?"

"Pretend to date. After graduation, you'll marry. If the relationship fails, the deal falls apart. And we lose control of everything we've built."

"You people are insane," Silvia muttered. "Why not use something else for your little agreement? Like... a goat. If the goat dies, whoever caused it loses the company."

Everyone stared at her.

Blank expressions.

Even Waksi stopped thinking for a second.

Mr. Nolan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose like this sort of comment was normal.

"Silvia!" he barked. "I told you-say nothing! You're making it worse."

She fell quiet.

She wanted to yell. To throw the teacup at the wall.

But her father's eyes-flat, cold, warning-told her she had no choice.

"Sign it," said Waksi's father, handing them a crisp contract and a sleek black pen.

"No!" Waksi shouted. "You can't force this-"

"If you don't sign, leave this house. And don't come back," his father said, voice low and deadly.

Waksi clenched his jaw.

He looked at Silvia.

His eyes said run.

But she didn't move.

And so, with a shaking hand, Waksi signed.

Then Silvia, her fingers stiff and cold.

"Good," her father said. He clapped twice. "You're officially a couple. Starting tomorrow, show the world you're in love. Photos. Smiles. Sweet nicknames. Play the part."

Silvia wanted to vomit.

That night, she sat alone, staring at the contract copy in her lap. Outside, rain still fell, thick and endless, like even the sky was mourning.

She traced her eyes over one final line, the one that made her entire body tremble:

"If either party breaks the engagement, full company control transfers to the opposing family."