My bride

Chapter 2

Tethered heart

The hospital room was quiet except for the steady drip of the IV and the soft hum of machines. London’s evening rain tapped gently against the window, as though the city itself had paused to listen.

Jackson didn’t leave Summer’s side.

He watched her breathe, counted the rise and fall of her chest, memorized the faint curve of her lashes as they fluttered in sleep. The wedding ring sat heavy in his pocket, a silent promise waiting for the right moment.

When Summer finally stirred, her fingers brushed against his.

“You’re still here,” she whispered, her voice fragile.

“Where else would I be?” Jackson replied, leaning closer. “I told you—I’m not going anywhere.”

Her lips curved into a weak smile, then faltered. “I ruined everything.”

Jackson shook his head immediately. “No. You scared me. There’s a difference.” He paused, swallowing. “And I can’t lose you, Summer. Not to a ceremony. Not to pride. Not to time.”

Tears gathered in her eyes. “I didn’t want to be the sick bride everyone pitied.”

“You’re not sick,” he said firmly. “You’re fighting. And I’ll fight with you.”

That night, Jackson learned what love truly demanded—patience, fear, and courage all braided into one.

The days that followed were slower than either of them liked.

Summer’s strength returned in fragments: a laugh here, a longer walk there. Jackson rearranged his entire life around hospital visits, medication schedules, and quiet afternoons where they spoke about everything except the illness hovering between them.

But love has a way of making silence loud.

One evening, as golden light spilled through the ward windows, Summer finally asked the question she’d been holding back.

“What if I don’t get better?”

Jackson didn’t pretend.

“Then I’ll still marry you,” he said. “In a hospital room if I have to. Or in your childhood bedroom. Or under the sky with no witnesses at all.”

Her breath caught. “You deserve someone… whole.”

He took her hand and pressed it against his chest. “This heart decided a long time ago. You’re it. Outside those walls, however, the world was less kind. Whispers crept in—friends questioning his choice, family worried about his future, strangers offering pity disguised as advice. Jackson heard them all and ignored every word.

But Summer heard them too.

And doubt, once planted, began to bloom.

Late one night, while Jackson slept beside her chair, Summer stared at the ceiling and made a decision—one she believed was born of love.

If Jackson wouldn’t let her go, She would find a way to protect him from herself. Some bonds feel like heaven. Others feel like hell. And sometimes, love is both.

Morning came with a fragile kind of hope.

Summer watched the pale light creep through the window, her heart heavy with thoughts she could no longer outrun. Loving Jackson felt like heaven when he smiled at her, when his hand found hers without asking. But it felt like hell knowing she might one day be the reason his world shattered.

When Jackson woke, he found her already staring at him. “You look like you’re planning something dangerous,” he said softly. She forced a smile. “Maybe I am.” He reached for her hand. “Whatever it is, don’t shut me out. I can survive a lot of things, Summer. Just not losing you without a fight.”

Her throat tightened. She turned her face away so he wouldn’t see the tears she could no longer control. Because the truth was simple and cruel:

Jackson was ready to face hell for her. And Summer was afraid she might become the hell he never deserved.

Summer wiped her cheeks quickly, but Jackson had already seen.

He always saw.

He moved from the chair to sit on the edge of her bed, close enough that she could feel the warmth of him, the steadiness he carried like armor.

“Talk to me,” he said gently.

She wanted to.

God, she wanted to.

But how could she explain the terror of loving someone so much that losing them felt inevitable? How could she confess that every heartbeat she owned seemed borrowed, temporary, fragile?

“I’m tired,” she whispered instead.

Jackson nodded, though he knew that wasn’t the truth. “Then rest. I’ll be here.”

He brushed his thumb beneath her eye, catching a tear before it could fall.

Outside, thunder rolled softly across the London sky.

Inside, Summer made another promise she hoped she would never have to keep.

If the day comes, she thought, I’ll walk away first.

Because leaving him alive would hurt less than watching him break beside her hospital bed.

By afternoon, the doctor returned with polite smiles and careful optimism. More tests. More monitoring. Words wrapped in hope but stitched with uncertainty.

Jackson listened to everything, memorizing instructions, asking questions, writing notes on his phone like a man studying for an exam he could not afford to fail.

Summer watched him from the bed.

He looked exhausted.

Dark circles framed his eyes. His jaw carried days of tension. Yet when he turned toward her, he still managed to smile like she was the only good thing left in the world.

It terrified her.

When the doctor left, she spoke softly. “You should go home and rest.”

Jackson laughed under his breath. “Nice try.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“You can’t keep pausing your life because of me.”

He leaned closer, voice low but unwavering. “My life isn’t paused. It’s right here.”

Her chest tightened again.

How was she supposed to leave a man who loved her like this?

Later, when visiting hours ended, Jackson reluctantly stepped into the hallway to take a call from Michael. He promised he would be right back.

Summer nodded.

And waited.

The moment the door clicked shut, the strength she had been pretending to have drained from her body. She stared at the window, at her pale reflection staring back.

“You’re selfish,” she whispered to herself.

Keeping him.

Letting him hope.

Letting him build dreams around someone who might not survive them.

Her hand slid to the hospital table beside her bed where Jackson had placed the small velvet ring box earlier, thinking she hadn’t noticed.

But she had.

Every time.

She picked it up.

Her fingers trembled as she opened it just slightly, enough to see the quiet sparkle inside.

A forever she wasn’t sure she could give.

Footsteps passed in the corridor.

Nurses talking.

A trolley rolling.

Life moving forward.

Summer closed the box and held it to her chest.

“I love you,” she breathed.

Which was exactly why she might have to destroy him.

Out in the hallway, Michael’s voice came fast through the phone.

“How is she?”

“She’s trying to be strong,” Jackson answered, rubbing his face. “Too strong.”

Michael was quiet for a moment. “And you?”

Jackson looked through the small glass panel in the door, watching Summer’s silhouette on the bed.

“I’m terrified,” he admitted.

It was the first time he had said it out loud.

Michael exhaled slowly. “We’ll find something. A treatment. A specialist. Don’t lose hope yet.”

“I won’t,” Jackson said. “I can’t.”

Because hope was the only thing holding him upright.

They ended the call.

Jackson reached for the door handle.

Ready to go back to her.

Ready to keep loving her loudly.

Ready to fight whatever future dared to come.

Inside the room, Summer quickly wiped her face and placed the ring box back where she had found it.

She practiced a smile.

By the time Jackson walked in, she looked almost calm.

Almost.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

She nodded.

Lie.

He sat beside her again, their hands finding each other like magnets that refused separation.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

The quiet felt heavier now.

Different.

Like a goodbye neither of them wanted to name.

Jackson lifted her hand and kissed it. “Whatever you’re thinking,” he murmured, “don’t decide it alone.”

Her heart nearly stopped.

Did he know?

Could he feel the plan forming behind her ribs?

“I would never,” she said.

Another lie.

Because the decision was already taking shape.

Tonight.

While he slept.

She would make the call.

The one that would change everything.

Jackson rested his forehead against her fingers, unaware.

Trusting.

Loving.

And Summer closed her eyes, memorizing the feel of him—

just in case it was the last night she was allowed to.

Her gaze drifted toward her phone on the table.

Waiting.

Silent.

But not for long.