Contract Marriage: I Will Never Love You-Chapter 97: Remember Me

Sarah

They are finally letting me go home.

It has been three days since I’ve been stuck in this hospital bed, and if I had to stay here one more day, I would go crazy.

"Got everything packed and ready to go?" Matthew asks as I grab my purse.

"Yup!" I chirp. "I can’t wait to go home. I need to catch up with work and the nursery..."

"Hold on there, missy," Matthew interrupts me. "Not so fast."

I raise my eyebrow. "What?"

"Just because you’re going home doesn’t mean you’re back to normal," Matthew says, his expression stern. "Doctor Reynolds was very clear. You need at least another week to take it easy. No late nights at the office, no painting the nursery, no rearranging furniture."

I roll my eyes. "Matthew, I’m pregnant, not invalid. I just had a little fainting spell."

"A ’little fainting spell’ that landed you in the hospital for three days with severe dehydration and high blood pressure," he counters, taking my overnight bag from my hand. "Sarah, you have to take this seriously."

The firmness in his voice makes me pause. I’ve never seen Matthew this worried before.

"Fine," I sigh reluctantly. "I’ll work from home."

"No, not ’work from home.’ Rest at home. There’s a difference." He places his hand gently on my baby bump.

The softness in his voice makes my inside warm. "Alright, fine. I will rest."

"Thank you," he says.

A nurse wheels in a wheelchair, and I start to protest.

"Hospital policy," she says before I can argue.

The ride down to the parking garage is quiet. Matthew walks beside the wheelchair, occasionally squeezing my shoulder. I know he’s right, but the thought of sitting around doing nothing makes me anxious.

As Matthew helps me into the car, I catch him watching me with that same worried expression.

"What?" I ask.

"I know what you’re thinking," he says, buckling my seatbelt for me despite my protests. "You’re mentally organizing all the work you’re going to do the minute I leave for the office tomorrow."

I feel my cheeks flush. "Am not."

He chuckles and kisses my forehead before closing the door and walking around to the driver’s side.

~-~

The next day, Matthew leaves for work, so I am alone in the house.

And bored.

Well, I guess not entirely alone since Marishka is here, but she went to the grocery store and has been gone for hours. I tried to convince her to take me with her, but she wouldn’t listen!

Maybe I will call Rebecca to see if she wants to come over.

I reach for my phone on the coffee table, but before I can even pull up Rebecca’s contact, it buzzes in my hand with an incoming call. An unknown number flashes across the screen.

I hesitate before clicking the answer button. "Hello?"

"Sarah. This is Rodrigo."

The familiar feeling of fear and nausea creeps up my body and I quickly press the end call button.

What the hell? Why is he calling me?

The phone starts to ring again.

I should ignore the call, I know, but what good would it do? I have a feeling Rodrigo is not planning on leaving me alone, and I can’t run away from this fear forever. I want to know why I am so scared of him.

So I answer.

"Hello, Rodrigo." I keep my voice steady and casual, as if I’m talking to an old acquaintance rather than someone who makes my heart race with dread.

"Sarah! I’m so glad you picked up. I am glad you are out of the hospital. Are you okay?" he says.

I take a deep breath, settling deeper into the couch cushions. "How do you know about that?" I twist a strand of hair around my finger, trying to appear relaxed even though no one can see me.

"I have my resources," Rodrigo says silkenly.

My throat tightens, but I maintain my composure. "Why are you calling me?"

"We never got to finish talking at the party. I’ve been wanting to see you, Sarah. We should meet," he says.

I gulp. "There is no reason for us to meet, Rodrigo. Like I told you, I don’t know you, nor do I remember you."

"That’s not entirely true now, is it, princess?"

My blood turns to ice.

The way he says princess, so familiar, so intimate, sends a shiver up my spine.

Suddenly, I’m not in my living room anymore. I’m small, tiny hands clutching a stuffed rabbit with a missing eye. The smell of cigar smoke hangs in the air.

"Come here, princess," Rodrigo says, patting his knee. His voice is sticky-sweet, like honey that’s been left out too long. "Come sit with Uncle Rodrigo."

I’m six years old, wearing a blue dress with white polka dots.

"Sarah," he coaxes, "don’t you want to be a good girl? Good girls do what they’re told."

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. Those eyes, dark and intense, make my stomach hurt. I shake my head, backing away until I bump into the bookshelf behind me. My rabbit dangles from my fingertips.

"Don’t be shy now," he says, reaching for me—

I gasp, jolting back to the present. My phone has slipped from my hand onto the couch. I can hear Rodrigo’s voice, tiny and distant, calling my name through the speaker.

"Sarah? Sarah, are you still there?"

My hands tremble as I pick up the phone again. "Don’t call me again," I whisper. "Stay away from me." My voice sounds stronger than I feel. "I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to talk to you."

He laughs, a sound that makes my skin crawl. "Don’t be like this."

"I’m hanging up."

"I’ll be seeing you soon," he says, just before I end the call.

I drop the phone like it’s burned me and wrap my arms around myself, shaking.

I need to tell Matthew. But what would I say? That I remembered sitting on someone’s lap when I was six? That doesn’t sound traumatic on its own. But the feeling...the dread, the wrongness of it all, that’s what I can’t explain.

I need a distraction, I think to myself and stride to the nursery.

I walk over to the crib Matthew made for our baby and trail my finger over the railing. And soon, I am smiling to myself.

I remember how proud Matthew looked the day he finished it.

Our baby hasn’t even arrived yet, but I already feel the love this little room holds.

Here, I feel safe and happy. I won’t let Rodrigo ruin my chance at happiness with Matthew.