Erased From His Past, Bound As His Wife

I stood at the edge of the narrow bed, fingers curled tightly around the metal rail as if letting go would send everything crashing down. The rhythmic beeping of the monitor was steady, but it did nothing to calm the storm inside her chest. Her mother looked smaller than the woman who had held her family together. I swallowed hard. “Did you eat?” mom asked weakly, her voice barely above a whisper. I forced a smile. “Of course I did.” A lie. One of many. Wren’s eyes lingered on her for a moment longer than usual, as if she could see straight through it. Then she sighed softly and closed her eyes again. “You shouldn’t stay here all day… go home and rest.” Home. The word felt almost ironic now. I nodded anyway. “I will. Just… get some rest, okay?” Dahlia waited until her mother’s breathing deepened before stepping back carefully. Wren Kade had always carried herself with a quiet grace, soft-spoken, composed and unshaken even in the face of hardship. But illness had stripped her down to something fragile. The oxygen tube beneath her nose, the pale tint of her skin, the tremor in her fingers, it all felt wrong. The doctor had been clear that morning. The medication keeping her mother stable wasn’t optional, it was necessary. Without it, her condition would spiral. And the cost… My grip tightened around my bag. Outside the hospital, cars passed. People laughed. Life continued. I stood still on the sidewalk, lost to my inner thoughts, numbers, deadlines, consequences. Three days. That was all the loan company had given me. Three days before they took the house. The only property we had left from father. My chest tightened at the thought of him. Herrin Kade had been a careful man, meticulous, thoughtful. The kind of man who planned ten steps ahead. Which was why none of this made sense. The will. The sudden transfer of assets. Uncle Damon stepping in too quickly after his death. It all seemed fishy and all attempts in getting to the root of it proved futile “Dahlia!” I turned at the sound of my name. Erlim jogged towards me, slightly out of breath, his worn sneakers scraping against the pavement. He was trying to look older than he was, shoulders squared, expression steady but he was still just a kid. “Why didn’t you tell me the landlord came again?” he asked, his voice tight. I frowned. “Who told you?” “That doesn’t matter.” Erlim ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident. “I can take more shifts at the garage.” “No.” The word came out sharper than I intended. He blinked. I softened my tone. “You’re already doing enough.” “It’s not enough,” he shot back quietly. “You’re the one carrying everything.” Silence settled between us. I focused my gaze on him. At the exhaustion he tried to hide. “I’ll fix it,” I said finally. Erlim let out a breath that sounded more like disbelief than relief. “How?” I didn’t answer because the truth was, I didn’t know. Later that evening, I sat by the small table in our dimly lit living room, papers spread out before her. Bills. Medical receipts. Loan statements. Numbers that refused to change no matter how long she stared at them. I leaned back in my chair, and closed my eyes briefly. Think. There had to be something I haven’t considered. Something I must have missed. But every option led to the same dead end. Until, my gaze shifted. A flyer sat half-crumpled at the edge of the table, something I had picked up days ago without much thought. She reached for it slowly. The paper was thick. The kind of material used for people who didn’t worry about cost. “Velour Private Club” My fingers stilled. At the bottom, in smaller print: “Thorough screening before selection, come prepared” I stared at the words. My first instinct was to throw it away. My second… to pretend I hadn’t read it. But now, with three days left and nothing else in front of her It didn’t feel so easy to ignore. My grip tightened around the paper. I didn’t belong in places like that. Did I? Her father would have hated the idea. The thought came uninvited and sharp. Her jaw clenched. Her father wasn’t here anymore. Her mother was in a hospital bed. Her brother had given up school. And in three days, they would lose everything. Slowly, she exhaled. "Dignity didn’t keep people alive. Decisions did".