Three Days
1133 Words
Harriet couldn’t get much sleep.
The card was still there in the kitchen when morning came.
Lucien Vale.
Those elegant, black letters appeared to be watching her in the darkness.
She hated them.
She hated the fact that this unbelievable offer had come with her.
But most of all, she hated herself for even considering it.
She woke up before dawn.
The kettle steamed in the small kitchen, and raindrops pattered against the windows of the apartment.
Everything seemed to be exactly the same.
Yet somehow, nothing was the same anymore.
Her phone buzzed.
Message from the hospital.
You’re requested to visit Dr. Morrison concerning your mother’s treatment program.
Her guts twisted.
Immediately.
Everything had to be done immediately.
She put on her coat and rushed out.
It was still chilly in the morning.
Harriet got to St. George Hospital at around eight.
Dr. Morrison was waiting for her.
His face alone made her feel desperate.
"I’ve managed to contact some specialists," Dr. Morrison spoke in a gentle voice. "Your mother’s treatment program is possible, but we should start as soon as we can."
Harriet sat down in a chair.
"How long do we have?"
The doctor paused for a moment.
"A few days, maybe."
His words cut Harriet deeply.
"And the price?"
There was a pause.
Just long enough.
Harriet knew the price of everything.
"Twelve thousand pounds for the first course of treatment."
The very number she had wanted to avoid.
Her hands tightened on her bag.
"Understand that it's quite a substantial sum," said Dr. Morrison.
Substantial.
Harriet nearly burst out laughing.
Impossibly so.
Impossible.
It couldn't be.
"Not substantial," she thought to herself, "impossible."
The doctor leaned forward.
"Miss Virelle, you have a chance to help your mother live. But you need to be quick about it."
Harriet just nodded.
Because she understood perfectly well.
There wasn't any way to save her.
As soon as she entered her mother's room, a small smile appeared on the older woman's face.
"Hi, my little bird."
Harriet smiled.
"Good morning, mom."
"You look exhausted."
"I didn't sleep well."
Her mother tried to take her hand.
"You worry too much."
Harriet sat down next to her mother's bed.
Their silence was comfortable.
And painful.
At last, the older woman spoke.
"He said that my condition isn't improving."
Harriet went rigid.
"That wasn't his place to say."
"You asked."
Her mother was soft-spoken.
The kind of softness which always made Harriet's heart break.
There was a pause.
Then—
"Harriet..."
She looked up.
"If the treatment is too expensive..."
"No."
The reply came right away.
"But—"
"No."
Her mother sighed through her smile.
"My child, you've sacrificed enough already."
Tears welled up in Harriet's eyes.
"I can work more."
"You work too hard already."
"I'll get another job."
Her mother squeezed her hand.
"And what about living your life?"
Harriet averted her gaze.
Living.
That was luxury that belonged to other people.
"All I need is for you to get better."
Her mother fell silent.
Then she said softly,
"Promise me one thing."
Harriet felt a knot tighten in her chest.
"What?"
"If that day ever comes when you have to choose between your future and me..."
The older woman smiled.
"Choose yourself."
Harriet could feel her tears welling up.
"I wouldn't."
"My stubborn little girl."
Harriet bowed her head.
Because deep down—
She knew what her decision would be.
But there was worse yet to come.
That evening when she got back to the apartment, an envelope was waiting for her underneath the door.
An eviction notice.
Two months behind on her rent.
Rent must be paid in fourteen days.
Harriet sat down on the couch.
She looked at the document.
Then at the electricity bill next to it.
Then at the near-empty purse.
Twenty-three pounds.
That's all she had left.
Then her phone rang again.
It was the coffee shop she worked at in the evenings.
Harriet, we need someone who can commit more. I am sorry, but I must ask you not to come in anymore.
For several moments she just looked at the message.
No tears were coming.
She was too drained to even cry.
Everything was falling apart.
Bit by bit.
Very slowly.
Mercilessly.
And nothing she could do about it.
The flat now seemed very small.
And the silence was deafening.
Unthinkingly, Harriet reached into the drawer in the kitchen.
There it was.
Lucien Vale.
The name she'd struggled so hard not to acknowledge.
She clenched it tightly.
No.
She could not.
Marriage would never be the answer.
It was insane.
Paradise masquerading as jail.
Knocking brought her out of her thoughts.
She felt her heart beat.
No one came to visit her.
She opened the door.
Luzio Romano stood there.
Dressed perfectly, as always.
Seemingly unaffected even by the rain.
"Evening, Miss Virelle."
Harriet steeled her face.
"Why are you here?"
"It was rude of me to intrude."
He held out a folder of leather towards her.
"Signor Vale wanted me to bring this to you."
She did not accept it.
"What is it?"
"The marriage contract."
She felt as though she might be sick.
"I never said I would marry."
"That is quite true."
His tone was still polite.
"The decision is completely yours."
Harriet crossed her arms.
"Why should you bring this to me then?"
Luzio met her eyes calmly.
"Because time is something you and your mother do not have."
The words cut because they were the truth.
Finally, she took the folder.
It weighed more than it should.
Inside, everything had been prepared already.
Her name.
Lucien’s name.
Legally.
Financially.
Medically.
Everything.
As if Lucien had always known she would have no choice.
She was mad.
“He prepared all of this.”
Luzio said nothing.
The fact that he didn’t speak was an answer.
Harriet shut the file.
“I need some time.”
Luzio nodded.
“Of course.”
She breathed easier.
Until he spoke.
“Signor Vale has three days for you.”
She stopped breathing.
“What?”
“Three days.”
A hint of softness crept into his expression.
“After that, the proposal is canceled.”
Harriet looked at him.
Three days.
Three days to decide between her future.
Three days to save her mother.
Three days to marry a man she barely knew.
Luzio pulled his gloves closer.
"All you need to do is dial the number on the card, if you wish."
Then he waited for a moment.
"Evening, Miss Virelle."
And he was gone, out into the rain.
Leaving Harriet alone.
Three days.
Just three days.
But for the first time in her life—
Harriet realized that sometimes, having a choice could be more terrifying than having none at all.
- Writer
