His accidental wife

Chapter three—- The first meeting

Chapter three—- The first

Isabelle’s world felt like it was crashing down in slow motion. Her mother’s condition was deteriorating.

It’s been two weeks since she was asked to pay her mother’s due bill. She has still not found a way to pay.

The hospital was not going to touch her mother until she had cleared the bill.

Holding a thin paper of drugs, drugs she had to beg the pharmacist to let her have on credit to sustain her mother till she’s able to pay the money for her treatment, she walked through the hospital lobby with only one thing in mind: keep pushing, no matter what it costs. Her mother’s life depended on it.

Her steps were quick, almost distraught with fear, but her mind was elsewhere, worrying, calculating, and breaking. So much so that she didn’t see him till it was too late.

The crash hit her like a wall.

She staggered backwards, the paper bag filled with medicine tore open. The medicine bottles fell to the polished floor, rolling in different directions. Isabelle felt distraught.

“I-I’m sorry!” she uttered immediately, dropping to her knees. Her hands shook as she hurriedly gathered the mess, the fear of losing even these drugs she bought on credit made her heart race.

Then she felt a shadow fall over her.

Black polished leather shoes appeared in front of her. Then a hand—large, steady, adorned with elegance —leaned down and picked up one of the bottles she had missed. She slowly raised her eyes, and the air around her changed the moment her eyes met his.

There was something about him that made him stand out from everyone else.

To her, he seemed to be carved out from an entirely different world. His suit was perfectly made, his aura was sharp and commanding, and his steady gaze seemed to bore into my soul. Despite his striking features, there was something about him that felt off, maybe it was because of his cold expression.

“Careless,” he said, his voice deep and firm, carrying an authority that made her stomach twist.

Isabelle’s lips parted, but no words came at first. She rushed to her feet, clutching the torn paper bag to her chest like a shield. “I—I wasn’t looking. I’m sorry.”

He extended the small medicine box toward her. For a brief second, their fingers brushed, and a weird shiver shot through her arm. His eyes hovered on her—taking in her tired face, the vibration of her hands, her worn-out appearance, and even the worn-out shoes she wore. It wasn’t pity in his gaze, but something sharper. Calculation. Interest.

Isabelle lowered her gaze immediately, wishing she could disappear. “Thank you,” she mumbled, her voice barely audible.

Without another word, he turned away, his long strides echoing against the polished floor. The crowd parted naturally for him, as though they sensed his importance. He walked toward the VIP ward, the wing reserved only for the rich and untouchable.

For a long moment, Isabelle stood frozen in the middle of the chaos, clutching her torn bag. She tried to remove him from her mind, telling herself he was just a stranger—one she’d never see again.

But deep inside, she knew better.

Because fate had a cruel way of bringing paths together. And the next time she saw him, it wouldn’t be as strangers in a hospital lobby. It would be across a table, with a contract that would change everything.