No one ever took the bet seriously. No one that was, except Maximus Sharp.

The pair had been inseperable for their entire 17 years of childhood, born a week apart to parents who were best friends.

They were 12 when they made the deal, still single by 30 and they would get married to each other. Today was Peony's 30th birthday; she was spending it alone in her tiny apartment with a single cupcake because that was all she could afford. After going to different universities, she and Maximus had grown apart and now, with their deal almost entirely forgotten, she doubted he even remembered her birthday. At the very most he had no idea where she lived, not in a studio in the dimly lit side of the city with mould growing from the walls and a fridge that only worked half of the time.

Peony had kept tabs on her childhood best friend over the last thirteen years, partner at his law firm, adopted a daughter three years before, holidays around the world every few months. A far cry from her own work in sales for a company that didn't seem to remeber that bonuses and livable wages existed.

She blew out the single candle on the tiny cupcake, hands numb from the December cold and broken heating.

That was when she heard the letter falling through the mail slot in the door, watched as it floated across the floor and into her kitchen before coming to a graceless stop on the cracked linoleum.

Partially because she was intrigued, mostly because she had nothing else to do, she grabbed it from the floor and tore open the envelope. There was a single piece of paper inside, written in fancy lettering on good quality paper she couldn't afford.

'Mr Maximus Sharp cordially invites you to his residence (enclosed below) at 10am on the 29th December to enact the marriage contract discussed prior. We hope this letter finds you well.'

She almost fainted.

Peony wondered if it was a trick. But no one except her and Maximus knew about the pact they had made in his backyard treehouse, whispered and pinky-sworn and sealed with spit.

There was a time, when she was sixteen, that she had hoped he would see her as more than a friend. But after he went to university, she had put that aside as they grew farther apart. Now she felt it all coming back like a long-buried dam breaking.

He had always been cute, with those baby blue eyes that no one could say no to, but when they were kids, he had always been a bit of a self-centered slob. Now, as she looked at his picture on the note, he looked the picture of perfection. Professional. Kind. Caring. Did he really see her the same way?

She quickly turned the paper over to see the address. December 29th didn't give her much time to get there. She looked at the train schedules for the next few days. All fully booked with travelers going home from the Christmas holidays. Next, she looked at buses. These were also mostly booked, but she could chain a few trips together to get there in time. A labyrinthine path, with some tight connections, but it was theoretically possible.

Taking a piece of scratch paper from her file shelf, she wrote a return letter to him and put it in her mailbox.

"I'm coming, Max."