Ethan suddenly reacted.
He shoved Olivia aside without a second thought and bolted after her.
"Emily, don't go!"
"Ethan!"
"Ethan!" Behind him, his mother and Olivia called out at the same time.
Ethan sprinted to the community exit, only to watch the car slip into the flow of traffic and disappear.
"Emily!" He shouted at the empty road.
*****
Inside the car, Emily leaned back against the seat and slowly closed her eyes.
Images she hadn't touched in years surfaced without permission.
*"Emily, I'm going abroad. You won't be able to see me as often. You have to take care of yourself, okay?"*
*"Ethan, can you not leave? I don't want you to go."*
*"Does Emily want to be with me forever?"*
*"Yes."*
*"Then when you grow up… will you marry me? That way we'll never have to be apart."*
*"Okay!"*
*"Do you really mean it?"*
*"Yes. As long as I can be with you, I'm willing!"*
*"Then it's a promise. Emily will wait for me."*
Those words, once blurred by time, came rushing back now—sharp and vivid, every syllable intact.
She remembered the kiss he had pressed to her forehead.
*"I'm leaving my mark. Now you're mine."*
She had been ten years old. It had meant nothing then.
But as she grew older, it had quietly followed her through every season of her life.
She used to wonder what he had become.
Used to wonder if she would ever see him again.
Emily opened her eyes slowly, refusing to let herself stay buried in the past.
She and Ethan could not have anything between them now.
Those had been childhood games. Words spoken in innocence.
They couldn't be held as promises.
She thought of her mother—of the months of quiet suffering, the diagnosis, the bills, the sleepless nights—and every grief she had been holding back came crashing through at once.
The tears fell before she could stop them.
She raised her hand to wipe them away.
But the more she wiped, the more came.
She gave up.
She turned toward the window and let herself cry.
---
Roland drove without direction.
Every few seconds, his eyes flicked to the rearview mirror.
He didn't know what had happened inside that house.
He wished now that he had gone in with her.
He'd seen enough of the Carter family in just one visit.
Not a decent person among them.
*Young Madam… what did they put you through in there?*
A quiet fury settled in his chest.
He wanted nothing more than to turn the car around.
By the time Emily stopped crying, the sky had begun to dim.
"Young Madam," Roland said gently, "where would you like to go?"
"The hospital first," Emily replied, her voice steadier than she felt. "I need to sort out some arrangements. Then my apartment—I have to return the keys."
"Of course." Roland nodded and said nothing more.
By the time everything was done, evening had fallen.
At the hospital, Emily settled the outstanding balance and arranged for her mother to be moved into a private room. It wasn't much, but it was something.
Her mother had been managing alone through all of this.
As long as Emily fulfilled her end of the agreement with Mrs. Scott, her mother would be transferred to a top hospital in New York for surgery.
The money Mrs. Scott had given her made all of it possible.
Emily was grateful—more than she knew how to say.
She pulled her suitcase through the door of Kellan's room and stopped.
She blinked.
The room she had left that morning was gone.
In its place was something else entirely.
Red bedding. Red curtains. Balloons clustered near the window. A paper lantern swaying gently from the ceiling. And above the headboard, a large red character that meant *happiness*, its edges gold and glowing in the lamplight.
It was earthy. It was over the top.
And somehow, impossibly—it worked.
Emily stood in the doorway and stared.
On the side table sat a small arrangement of fruit—apples, red dates, peanuts—and two glasses beside two bottles of wine.
A wedding night.
Someone had given her a wedding night.
Despite everything—the exhaustion, the grief, the ache still raw behind her ribs—she felt the corner of her mouth pull upward.
*Knock knock knock.*
"Come in."
The door opened. The housekeeper stepped in with a polite bow.
"Young Madam, we took the liberty of decorating before we left. Tonight is a special night. Is there anything else you need?"
"No." Emily shook her head. "Thank you. This is more than enough."
"Your wardrobe has been stocked with clothes and shoes. The bathroom is fully prepared. Please don't hesitate to let us know if you need anything at all."
"I will."
"Have you eaten? I can prepare something before I go."
"I'm fine, truly."
"Then rest well, Young Madam."
The door clicked shut.
Emily exhaled.
She crossed to the wardrobe and pulled it open. A full row of clothes hung neatly inside—each piece clearly expensive, clearly chosen with care. Toward one end, three sets of sleepwear were folded on the shelf. One of them was red, trimmed with lace and sheer panels.
Her eyes drifted to Kellan.
He had been dressed in red pajamas too, the word *happiness* embroidered in gold at the cuff. Paired with hers, they were unmistakably a set.
Against the red, his skin didn't look quite so pale.
Emily took the red set and walked to the bathroom.
She stood under the hot water for a long time.
When she came out, she was wearing it.
The silk settled against her skin—cool at first, then warm. The cut was more fitted than she was used to, the neckline lower, the slit at the hem revealing the length of her legs when she moved. The chest pulled slightly; the waist was loose.
She looked at her reflection for a moment.
Then she padded barefoot to the sofa and sat down.
She hadn't eaten much all day. The hunger crept up on her now, unhurried. She reached for a red date and bit into it—just enough to take the edge off.
Her gaze wandered to the two glasses of wine on the table.
Something made her reach for the bottle.
She poured two glasses and carried them both to Kellan's bedside.
She pulled the stool close and sat down, leaning forward slightly.
A loose strand of hair slid off her shoulder and fell between them.
She looked at him for a moment—still, pale, breathing.
Then she lifted her glass.
"Kellan," she said quietly. "Let's start over. My name is Emily. I'm your wife now."
"Today is our wedding day."
She touched her glass gently to his.
"Cheers."