Contract Marriage: I Will Never Love You-Chapter 92: Flowers

Matthew

"I had a feeling this would happen," her mother says.

Sarah flinches as if she’s been slapped, and I feel a surge of anger rise up my spine.

"Mom," Sarah whispers, her voice small. "Please, not now."

"Evelyn," her father warns, giving his wife a sharp look.

But Sarah’s mother just smooths her immaculate skirt, her expression unmoved. "What? I’m simply stating facts. The way Sarah handles herself...sauntering around without a care in the world. No expecting mother should ever..."

I stand up so quickly that my chair nearly topples. "Evelyn, with all due respect, you should leave."

Sarah’s mother draws back. "Excuse me? I am her mother."

"Then act like it," I reply, my voice dangerously quiet. "Sarah doesn’t need this right now."

"How dare you?" Evelyn barks.

"Mom, please," Sarah pleads.

I clench my jaw.

Sarah’s father steps between us, hands raised placatingly. "He’s right, Evelyn. Sarah needs rest, not stress."

A doctor enters, eyebrows raised at the sudden crowd in the room. "Good morning. I need to check on my patient." She looks pointedly at everyone. "Perhaps we could limit visitors to one or two at a time?"

Evelyn sniffs but allows herself to be guided toward the door by her husband. "We’ll be right outside," Charles promises Sarah, who nods gratefully.

As they leave, I exhale slowly, unclenching my fists. Sarah reaches for my hand.

"Thank you," she whispers.

The doctor approaches the bed, clipboard in hand. "How are you feeling this morning, Sarah?"

"Better," Sarah says.

"That’s good." The doctor checks the monitors. "Your blood pressure has stabilized, and the bleeding has stopped completely. Those are excellent signs."

I squeeze Sarah’s hand. "And the baby?"

The doctor smiles. "Let’s check."

~-~

"I never understood why she hates me so much," Sarah tells me later that evening.

"Hmm? Who are you talking about?" I ask and move to sit next to her.

"My mother. At least it made sense to me when you hated me. But with my mother...I just don’t know," she whispers.

I hate hearing the tremor in her voice as if she is about to burst into tears.

"I don’t know," I say, brushing my thumb along her shoulder. "I am sure she doesn’t actually hate you. You are her daughter. How can a mother genuinely hate her own daughter?"

"She told me once that having me ruined her life," Sarah whispers. "I was sixteen. She said it like she was talking about a stain she couldn’t get out of a dress."

My chest tightens. I don’t even realize how tightly I’m holding her until she winces, and I quickly loosen my grip.

I try to think of what to say. Anything to make her feel better, but I draw a blank.

Right then, the door opens and a nurse walks in with a large bouquet of roses. "These came in for you," she says with a smile.

I raise my eyebrows. "Roses? Is Josh trying to one-up me again?"

Sarah giggles. "Stop that."

"Well, he sent you roses before," I remind her.

"Yes, and you gave me a lecture about how he doesn’t know roses aren’t my favorite and how he needs to do better to get inside my pants." Sarah rolls her eyes.

I wince. "I never said he needs to do better. He better not try because I will break his legs."

Sarah groans. "Will you please bring them to me?"

I stand and cross the room, lifting the bouquet from the nurse’s hands with a polite smile before she quietly slips out. The roses are deep red, fresh, and arranged in a way that looks like someone put real effort into them. I narrow my eyes, inspecting the card tucked between the blooms.

"Who are they from?" Sarah asks, propped up on her pillows.

I hand her the bouquet, but keep the card in my hand. "Let me check. Just in case Josh is trying something."

She laughs softly. "You’re so possessive."

"I prefer ’appropriately territorial,’" I mutter, opening the envelope.

I read the name on the car and wrinkle my forehead.

"It’s not Josh," I say slowly.

Sarah blinks. "Then who?"

I glance at her, my voice neutral but guarded. "Rodrigo."

Sarah freezes. "What?"

"He wishes you well," I reply.

"Wh-why would he send me flowers? How does he know I am in the hospital?" Her voice is shaking, her eyes lighting up with fear.

I set the flowers down on a chair. "I don’t know," I say, looking worriedly at her. Her face is pale, and I can see beads of sweat forming on her temple. Does hearing Rodrigo’s name inflict that much fear in her?

Sarah doesn’t answer me right away. She’s gripping the sheets now, knuckles white, her breathing shallow.

"Sarah?" I move closer, cupping her face gently. "Hey, hey. Look at me. Breathe."

She finally meets my eyes, but hers are wide, almost wild with panic. "Take them out."

My stomach twists. "What?"

She shakes her head, biting her bottom lip so hard I’m afraid she’ll draw blood. "Take the flowers and throw them out, please," she breathes.

"Alright. I will do that," I say, pulling her to my chest. "Just calm down, okay? We can’t have you be stressed out again."

She nods against my chest and I feel her hot tears soaking my shirt.

That’s it...I need to find out what Rodrigo did to her. I can’t wait anymore. Not when just hearing his name made her like this.

Sarah trembles in my arms for a few more moments before her breathing finally steadies. I wait until her grip on my shirt loosens before gently pulling away to look at her face.

"Better?" I ask softly.

She nods, but her eyes still dart nervously to the flowers. "I’m sorry. I just—"

"Don’t apologize," I interrupt firmly. I stand and grab the bouquet, carrying it toward the door. "I’ll be right back."

In the hallway, I pause, staring down at the roses.

I walk to the nurses’ station. "Is there a place I can dispose of these?"

The nurse behind the counter gives me a puzzled look. "You want to throw away those beautiful flowers?"

"They’re from someone my wife doesn’t want to hear from," I say shortly.

Her expression shifts to understanding. "Oh. There’s a dumpster in the staff area, but—" She holds out her hands. "I can take care of it for you."

I hesitate, then hand them over. "Thank you."

When I walk back into the room, Sarah is sitting up straighter, trying to compose herself, but her eyes immediately search mine.

"They are gone," I assure her.

Relief floods her face. "Thank you."

I sit on the edge of the bed and take her hand. "You still don’t remember what happened with Rodrigo?"

She stiffens. "No. But I think he has something to do with my fear of darkness and...um...basements."