The word “wife” exploded like a bomb. The
room buzzed.
“Wife?” Mark stammered.
“Yes. Ashley is my wife, Mrs. Blackwood.”
My mother, as if waking from a trance, rushed forward and grabbed my arm. “Ashley, darling!
Such wonderful news! Why didn’t you tell us?”
I pushed her away. “Mrs. Miller, I’m not a Miller
anymore.”
“Nonsense, dear! There’s no such thing as a
permanent rift between mother and
daughter…”
“There’s nothing to discuss. I have no
connection to the Millers. The family register
proves it.”
My mother, panicked, turned to Ethan. “Mr. Blackwood, you see? She’s just being childish…”
“I defer to my wife,” Ethan said coolly, his arm tightening around me. “If Ashley says she has no connection to the Millers, then she has no connection to the Millers.”
“Mr. Blackwood…” My mother looked
devastated.
“Mrs. Miller,” Ethan continued, “I understand
the Millers haven’t donated a single penny to
charity in the last decade.”
My mother paled, struggling to speak.
“Never donated a dime? Then why do they
bother showing up to these events?” someone
muttered.
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く
“Social climbing, obviously.”
“Disgusting.”
Humiliated, my mother dragged Amelia away.
Ethan turned to me. “Let’s go home, Ashley.”
“We haven’t made our donation yet…” I
whispered.
He kissed my forehead. “My assistant’s taking
care of it.”
- 23.
Later that night, back at Ethan’s, dizziness
washed over me. “Ethan… my heart…” The
familiar tightness in my chest returned. I gasped
for breath.
He knelt beside me, his forehead touching
mine “Ashley ” I could feel his concern his
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mine. “Ashley.” I could feel his concern, his
frustration. I hated that my body was failing me again.
“Ethan, maybe you should marry someone… healthy…”
“Ashley,” he said, his eyes serious, “There’s no shortage of healthy women in the world.”
“But I’m…”
“You’re what?” He brushed the damp hair off my forehead. “Ashley, you’re perfect.”
“Ethan…”
“We’ll take care of your health. We’ll find the
best doctors, here, in New York, anywhere in
the world.”
“What if it can’t be fixed?”
く
He kissed me gently. “Then I’ll embrace
celibacy. It’ll give me more time to focus on my
work.”
- 24.
Around New Year’s, Ethan finally had some free
time. He took me to Boston, where the best
cardiac specialists were. I was nervous about
the tests.
“We’ll do what we can,” I said.
He smoothed my hair. “Go on. I’ll be right here.”
After a battery of tests, the doctor, a white-
haired man, looked at me sadly. “Your condition
isn’t as severe as we sometimes see. With early
intervention, surgery could have corrected it
completely.”
I stared at him, shaking my head. “Are you
sure? My family always told me it was
incurable. They took me to so many doctors.
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and they all said the same thing. I gave up hope. They said all they could do was manage
it, keep me alive. They made it sound like a
miracle that I even lived to adulthood.”
Ethan pulled me into a hug. Tears streamed down my face.
“They lied, didn’t they?” I sobbed. “Why? If they didn’t want to treat me, they could have… abandoned me, given me away… Why lie? Why lie for so many years?”
“Ashley, don’t think about it now. You can get
better. That’s all that matters.”
“But I don’t understand…”
He held me tighter. “Don’t dwell on it. We’ll
move forward, together.”
- 25.
Ethan came to pick me up in the spring. I’d had
<
the surgery and was recovering well. His grandfather had taken a turn for the worse a
few weeks earlier, and Ethan had rushed back to LA. He’d only returned when the old man had
stabilized. We hadn’t seen each other in two
weeks.
He got out of the car but didn’t come towards
- me. We had a pact. The next time we saw each
other, I would run to him, like any healthy girl
could.
He opened his arms.
I lifted my skirt and ran down the steps, through
the garden, the spring breeze warm against my face. It was the first time I’d ever run freely. I
threw myself into his arms and reached up to
kiss him. I was wearing flats, and he was so tall,
I had to stand on my tiptoes. He bent down,
meeting my kiss.
