Chương 2
He was fighting sleep.
Fighting his own body.
Like he had something he needed to say.
The nurse looked at me.
"Tomorrow."
I nodded.
I wanted to ask a hundred questions.
Why my voice?
How much did he hear?
What did he remember?
Why did he wake up now?
Instead, I walked out.
Because a part of me was afraid of the answers.
The next morning, the entire house felt different.
Not better.
Different.
The servants moved faster.
The lawyers arrived.
The doctors held private meetings.
Everyone was preparing for the return of Ethan Thornton.
Everyone except Ethan himself.
When I entered his room, he was sitting upright for the first time.
A physical therapist stood nearby.
His hair was messy.
His expression was irritated.
It was the first normal thing I had seen about him.
"You look disappointed," I said.
He looked at me.
"I expected..."
His voice stopped.
The therapist waited.
Ethan tried again.
"I expected my body to work."
I almost smiled.
Not because it was funny.
Because it sounded human.
"I think your body is allowed to be angry with you."
His eyebrow lifted slightly.
"Angry?"
"You disappeared for nine months."
He stared at me.
Then, unexpectedly, he laughed.
It was quiet and rough, like the sound had not been used in a long time.
The moment disappeared quickly.
The door opened.
Vivian entered with two lawyers behind her.
Ethan's expression changed immediately.
The warmth left.
The walls returned.
I noticed.
And so did he.
"Grandmother," he said.
His voice was stronger today.
Vivian stopped.
For the first time since I met her, she looked emotional.
Only for a second.
Then it vanished.
"You're awake."
"Apparently."
The lawyer stepped forward.
"There are matters regarding the trust that require immediate attention."
Ethan looked at him.
"Of course there are."
The bitterness surprised me.
Vivian looked at me.
"Leave us."
I started moving.
Then Ethan spoke.
"No."
Everyone stopped.
His hand rested on the blanket.
"She stays."
Vivian's eyes narrowed.
"She is not involved in family business."
Ethan looked at me.
Then back at his grandmother.
"She is my wife."
The words sounded strange.
Not because they were false.
Because they were true.
And for the first time, Ethan Thornton said them like they meant something.
The words sounded strange because neither of us had expected them to matter.
Ethan looked at me as if he was trying to understand why saying them had changed the room.
The lawyers exchanged a glance.
Vivian noticed it too.
She noticed everything.
"Your condition does not change the requirements of the trust," the older lawyer said carefully.
Ethan's jaw tightened.
"My condition?"
The lawyer shifted his papers.
"The board needs confirmation that you are capable of resuming control."
"I was unconscious," Ethan said.
"Yes."
"That does not mean I was incapable."
Nobody answered.
The silence told me more than their words would have.
This family had spent nine months planning for a world where Ethan never returned.
Now that he had, everyone needed time to rearrange their plans.
Vivian sat in the chair near the window.
For the first time, she looked tired.
Not weak.
Never weak.
But tired in a way that made her seem older than she wanted anyone to see.
"Ethan," she said, "you need rest."
He looked away.
"You mean you need time."
Her expression hardened.
"Be careful."
The warning was quiet.
Almost gentle.
But it carried years behind it.
I stood there feeling like I had walked into a conversation that began long before I existed.
The lawyers left after making several appointments.
Vivian followed them.
Before she reached the door, Ethan spoke.
"Grandmother."
She stopped.
"Why did you let this happen?"
The question changed her face.
Only briefly.
Then the control returned.
"I don't know what you mean."
"Don't do that."
Her fingers tightened around her handbag.
"I was protecting the company."
"No."
His voice was calm.
That made it sharper.
"You were protecting the company from me."
Vivian looked at him for a long moment.
Then she walked out.
The door closed softly.
I remained near the wall, unsure if I should leave.
Ethan noticed.
"You can sit."
I hesitated.
"You remember me?"
His eyes moved toward mine.
"Not everything."
The answer disappointed me even though I had not admitted to myself that I wanted one.
"What do you remember?"
He looked toward the ceiling.
The effort of searching his own mind seemed exhausting.
"Pieces."
"Like what?"
"A hallway."
His breathing slowed.
"A car."
I waited.
"A voice."
My hands went still.
"Mine?"
He nodded slightly.
"Why?"
He closed his eyes.
"I don't know."
That was the first honest answer anyone in this house had given me.
It felt strangely comforting.
Later that afternoon, Ethan's doctors explained that his recovery would not be simple.
He could speak.
He could move.
He could recognize people.
But there were gaps.
Missing hours.
Missing conversations.
Missing pieces of the person he had been before the accident.
I listened from the corner of the room while the doctor explained rehabilitation.
Ethan listened too.
He looked angry when they talked about him as if he were a damaged machine.
"I can hear you," he finally said.
The doctor paused.
"I know."
"Then talk to me."
The doctor nodded.
"You're right."
That small apology changed something.
Ethan relaxed slightly.
After the medical team left, I found him staring at the city through the window.
The estate overlooked the river, but from that height the world below looked distant and harmless.
It wasn't.
I knew that better than most.
"Do you hate me?" he asked.
The question caught me off guard.
"What?"
"For marrying you."
I swallowed.
"I don't know."
He looked at me.
"That's fair."
I expected arrogance.
I expected anger.
I expected the kind of man I had imagined when my father told me about the arrangement.
Instead, I saw someone who was scared of an answer.
"I didn't choose this either," I said.
May you like
His eyes lowered.
"I know."
