Chapter 5: The Proposal
1270 Words
Marie stood in front of the small bathroom mirror, smoothing the front of her navy-blue dress for the third time. It wasn’t anything extravagant, just a simple, neat outfit. It wasn’t new; she’d owned it since her cousin’s graduation party, but the simple, fitted cut made her look like someone who had plans beyond the sterile walls of Robert Fraser Hospital and the aisles of the grocery store. Her hair, loosely pinned back, framed her face in soft waves. For once, she looked like a woman stepping into a life she didn’t recognize.
From the hallway, Martha's voice floated in, filled with playfulness.
“Heading out, Nurse Nightingale?”
Marie peeked her head out, a corner of her lips twitching in amusement. “Just going to dinner.”
Martha lay curled on the couch under a blanket, a heating pad resting against her abdomen. She raised a brow, her tone dripping with mock suspicion. “Since when do we ‘just go to dinner’ in a dress?”
Marie rolled her eyes. “It’s not a date.”
“Hmm,” Martha mused. “So, not a date with that tall, brooding, blue-eyed hospital heir, huh?”
Marie felt her cheeks heat up. “You’ve been keeping tabs on him?”
“I looked him up. Sue me.” Martha grinned. Alex Whitaker. Attractive. Wealthy. Probably has a tragic backstory. And you’re going to dinner with him. It’s a date.”
“It’s not,” Marie insisted firmly. “He wants to discuss something. He mentioned it’s important.”
Martha examined her sister's expression, and her smile transformed into something more gentle. “Are you okay?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Marie confessed. "But I’ll return before 10. Don’t stay up for me.”
“Too late,” Martha replied softly. “I’m already coming up with our wedding hashtag.”
Marie laughed despite herself, tossing a throw pillow in Martha’s direction before grabbing her bag and heading out.
The restaurant was located at the outskirts of town, nestled among a row of ancient oak trees and facing a serene stretch of roadway. The interior was bathed in warm light, featuring polished wooden beams and the gentle flicker of candles nestled in small glass holders. The ambiance felt too personal for a discussion, and Marie's anxiety tingled just beneath her skin.
Alex was already there, propped against the hostess stand in a sharp charcoal suit. His gaze, intense and strikingly blue, softened a bit when it met hers. He acknowledged the hostess by name, and without saying anything, they were guided to a secluded booth that appeared to be set aside just for them.
Once seated, Marie crossed her arms. “Alright, mystery man. What’s your proposal?”
Alex reclined slightly, allowing a short silence to linger before responding.
“I need to get married.”
Marie blinked in surprise. “Pardon me?”
He clasped his hands together. “To access my inheritance, my complete inheritance, I must be legally married for at least one year.”
Marie looked at him in shock. “Okay… and how does this involve me?”
“I would like you to marry me. For one year. In return, I’ll cover your sister’s treatment. Every penny.”
The proposal struck her like a blow. She leaned back slowly, her mouth agape.
“You’re out of your mind.”
“Perhaps,” Alex replied lightly. “But I’m also quite serious.”
“Is this some kind of prank? A twisted joke?”
“No prank. No cameras. No tricks.”
Marie rose. “Absolutely not.”
“Wait! Marie! just listen to me.”
“No. You barely know me. We’ve talked three times. And now you want to marry me?”
“It’s a contract,” he explained calmly. “Not a genuine marriage. No feelings. No attachments. One year. After that, we’ll divorce, and you can leave with a healthy sister and a fresh start.”
She shook her head. “This is appalling.”
“Is it?” Alex tilted his head. “You’re in financial trouble. Your sister’s time is running out. And I’m presenting a solution. One that’s advantageous for us both.”
Marie felt her heart racing, her skin hot. “You don’t understand what it’s like. Watching someone you care about suffer every day. Fearing that you’ll wake up and she’ll be..”
Her voice broke. She turned away, swallowing the lump forming in her throat.
Alex’s expression softened. “You’re right. I can’t comprehend that. But I do know the feeling of being helpless.”
Marie sat down slowly. Her mind was spinning.
“This inheritance,” she questioned, “how much are we talking?”
“Several hundred million. My grandfather locked most of the assets under absurd moral conditions. Marriage is one of them.”
“Why not marry your girlfriend?”
Alex fell silent.
Marie narrowed her eyes. “There is someone else involved, isn’t there?”
“There was,” he confessed. “But she’s... complicated. And not precisely who my grandfather approves of.”
“So I’m just a convenient loophole.”
“No. You’re intelligent, independent, low profile. No drama. No hazard.”
“And emotionally expendable?”
He didn’t respond to that.
Marie focused on the candle on the table, observing the flame dance.
“You would genuinely fund everything?” she asked softly. “All of Martha’s treatment?”
“Yes.”
“And then we part ways after one year?”
“Precisely.”
Marie shook her head once more. “I need time to consider this.”
Alex nodded. “Of course. Take as long as you require. But don’t delay too much. The longer you wait… the more dangerous it becomes for your sister.”
That last statement pierced like a knife. And he was aware of it.
As he drove her home in silence, Marie gazed out the window, her thoughts racing. It felt wrong. Unethical. Insane. Yet it might be the only option to save Martha.
Upon arriving home, Marie found Martha dozing on the couch, the heating pad glowing red. She carefully draped a blanket over her and sat down at the kitchen table, her hands tangled in her hair. She felt the urge to scream. To cry. To do something. Anything. But fatigue dulled her emotions. That night, she barely managed to sleep.
The following afternoon, while Marie was at the hospital replenishing the supply cart, her phone buzzed. It was a nurse from Pediatrics, where Martha underwent her transfusions.
“Marie? This is Hannah. You must come to the ER, Martha collapsed during her check-up.” Marie's heart raced violently in her chest.
She dashed down the hall. By the time she arrived at the ER, Martha appeared pale and was connected to a monitor.
Her breathing was strained. Dr. Leigh hovered over her, assessing her vitals.
“What happened?” Marie panted. “She experienced a rapid decline in her hemoglobin and oxygen levels. We’re stabilizing her now, but this marks the second significant episode in two months, Marie. Her condition is worsening.”
Frozen beside the bed, Marie stared at her sister’s unconscious face. “She needs the transplant soon,” Dr. Leigh said softly. “If not... we might run out of time.”
Later that night, Marie sat by Martha’s bedside, lightly touching her sister’s delicate hand. The monitors emitted quiet beeping sounds beside them. Alex’s proposition reverberated in her mind like a tempest.
A year of her life.
In exchange for Martha’s.
- Writer
