Getting Away From Fake Marriage, I Met True Love

When I walked out of the hospital, it started raining heavily in New York.

I didn't use an umbrella, letting the cold rain soak through my body.

Just as determined as I was four years ago when I knelt at the entrance of the family manor in the rain at night to be with Killian, begging my father to sever ties.

Back then, I was a full scholarship winner at a famous Ivy League school and the heir the family had high hopes for.

But for Killian Smith, for this illegitimate son who was then rejected by his family and had nothing, I gave up my studies, turned my back on my family, and even became a joke in the upper-class circles.

I thought we were true love sharing weal and woe.

Until I sat in the stretch Lincoln sent by Killian.

Watching this man I loved recklessly looking at me with that familiar, gentle yet helpless gaze.

"Halen, don't get caught in the rain, you'll catch a cold."

Killian took off his expensive custom suit jacket and considerately draped it over me, his movements impeccably gentlemanly.

He was always like this, emotionally stable and elegant, even when stabbing me in the back.

"You know?"

He asked, his tone as calm as if discussing tomorrow's weather.

"Why is it Elena?"

I asked tremblingly.

"Why is our marriage legally invalid? Why is she your wife?"

Killian sighed, reached out to pull me into his arms, his fingers gently running through my soaked long hair.

"Halen, you are always so serious."

He lowered his head and kissed my forehead, a coaxing tone in his voice.

"That's just a piece of paper. You know, the only person I love is you. My future, my children, everything I have is yours."

"Why bother arguing over a mere title with a dying person?"

I pushed him away in disbelief.

"A dying person?"

"Elena's brain cancer has relapsed."

A flash of grief and pity passed through Killian's eyes.

"The doctor said she has at most half a year left. She has had a hard life. Five years ago in the Alps, if she hadn't pushed you away and dug me out of the snow, carrying me for three days and three nights, we would have died long ago."

"Those legs that saved me were left disabled due to frostbite."

"Now she is dying, and her only wish is to leave this world decently as 'Mrs. Killian'."

Killian looked at me, a hint of blame actually in his gaze, as if looking at an ignorant child.

"Halen, she saved us. One must know gratitude."

"She just wants a title. Once she's gone in half a year, that position will naturally still be yours."

"You already have enough. Why can't you be a bit more generous and fulfill her final dignity?"

"So I fulfill her wish, who will fulfill mine?"

I looked at this affectionate man, suddenly feeling my stomach churning.

"For you, I betrayed my family and friends, gave up my degree, and followed you without any status for four years."

"Now I'm pregnant with your child, yet you tell me that to repay a debt of gratitude, I must be that shady mistress?"

Killian frowned, seemingly finding my words too harsh.

"No one says you are a mistress. In everyone's eyes, you are the mistress here."

He patiently held my hand again, his palm warm and dry, but unable to warm my heart.

"Elena even promised that she wouldn't intervene in our lives. She just wants to close her eyes looking at the marriage certificate."

"Halen, don't be so cold-blooded. If I refuse her, I will carry a debt of conscience for a lifetime."

"You also don't want your husband to be an ungrateful person, right?"

I looked at him.

Watching him take it for granted, even with a bit of self-righteousness.

He really felt he was doing the right thing.

He really felt that hurting me to repay another woman's kindness was a gentleman's character.

But I knew better the means of that woman named Elena.

Five years ago in the Alps, Killian was in a coma due to altitude sickness and didn't remember what happened at all.

But after waking up, everyone said it was Elena who saved Killian.

For these five years, Elena always appeared weak, forbearing, and undisputed.

Whenever Killian and I argued, she was always the first to stand up as a "peacemaker", saying "It's all my fault, don't hurt your relationship because of me".

Just like now.

Killian's phone rang. It was Elena calling.

He pressed the speakerphone, and the carriage immediately filled with that woman's weak and sensible voice:

"Killian, are you explaining to Halen?"

"If she minds... then forget it."

"I don't want to destroy your relationship because of my last willful wish. It doesn't matter if I die alone in the hospital..."

Listen, what a perfect victim.

Killian's gaze instantly softened, carrying a hint of protectiveness for the weak.

He spoke gently to the phone:

"Don't overthink, focus on recuperating. Halen isn't such an unreasonable person, she has already agreed."

After speaking, he hung up the phone and turned to look at me.

There was unquestionable pressure in his eyes, and a hint of encouragement expecting me to be "sensible".

"See, she is always thinking of you like this."

Killian said.

"Halen, just this half year. When she's gone, I will give you a grand wedding, okay?"

I looked at the retreating scenery outside the car window, at this bustling and indifferent city.

The place in my heart felt like it was being sawed open bit by bit by a rusty dull knife.

For him, I abandoned my dignity, abandoned myself.

In exchange, for the sake of repaying kindness, he handed over the position of wife that belonged to me to someone else.

And I still had to smile and say "it's okay", otherwise I would be cold-blooded, ignorant.

I touched my still flat lower abdomen.

There was a little life there, coming at really the wrong time.

But I suddenly smiled, yet tears slid down the corners of my eyes.

"Okay."

I heard myself say in a dry voice.

"Killian, since you want to repay kindness, then I will fulfill your righteousness."

Killian breathed a sigh of relief, his face showing that charming, doting smile again.

He leaned over to kiss my cheek, praising:

"I knew it, my Halen is the kindest, most sensible woman."

He didn't know.

At this moment, all my love for him thoroughly died in this heavy rain with that "okay".

---

Three days later, as the nominal mistress of the Smith family, I took Killian's arm and attended a charity dinner in Manhattan.

Even if that was a fake marriage certificate, in the eyes of outsiders, I was still Killian's only partner.

Or rather, the only trophy.

Halfway through the banquet, Killian let go of my hand.

"I'm going to see a partner, I'll be back soon."

He tucked the loose hair behind my ear for me, his movements gentle as if treating a fragile piece of porcelain.

"Wait for me here obediently, don't run around, and don't drink cold wine."

I watched his tall back disappear into the crowd, the corner of my mouth curling into an ironic arc.

Ten minutes passed.

Twenty minutes passed.

He didn't come back.

As if possessed, I avoided the noisy crowd and walked to the secluded terrace on the second floor.

The heavy velvet curtains were half-closed. Through the gap, I saw that figure that made me sick.

It was Elena.

She actually ran out of the hospital.

She was wearing a thin hospital gown, with only a black suit jacket belonging to a man draped over it—that was Killian's.

In the cold wind, she was shivering, that pale small face looking pitiful, like a little white flower about to wither.

And Killian stood in front of her, frowning, looking helpless.

"Killian... I can't make it..."

Elena cried and threw herself into his arms, her hands clutching his shirt collar tightly, her fingertips turning white from the force.

"My head hurts so much... it's so cold here..."

"Look into my eyes, Killian, I am your wife... how can you not want me..."

Killian didn't push her away.

He let her hold him, his voice low and forbearing: "Elena, you should go back to the hospital. The car is already downstairs."

"I won't go!"

Elena suddenly screamed, stood on tiptoe, and kissed Killian's lips almost crazily.

At that moment, I felt my heart stop beating.

Just when I thought Killian would fling her away like pushing away any offender.

He didn't.

He just reached out, held Elena's shoulders, not using much strength, even arguably gently, slowly pulling her away.

"Enough."

Killian said softly, "Stop making a scene."

My handbag slipped to the ground, making a muffled sound.

The two people on the terrace turned their heads at the same time.

The moment he saw me, a flash of panic finally crossed Killian's originally calm face.

But he quickly regained his composure.

He didn't even let go of the hand supporting Elena immediately, but first tightened the suit on her more before turning to look at me.

"Halen, why are you here?"

I stood in the wind, cold all over.

"Shouldn't I be here?" I pointed at the still sobbing Elena, "If I didn't come, how could I see such a wonderful scene?"

"In front of my face, is this what you said about 'not intervening in our lives'?"

Killian strode towards me, his tall body blocking my view of Elena.

His expression was serious, brows slightly furrowed, as if looking at an unreasonable child.

"Halen, keep your voice down."

He lowered his voice, with a warning of disapproval in his tone.

"This is a public place, don't let people see a joke."

"A joke?" I was shocked by his words, "The one being forcibly kissed is you, the one cheating is you, and now you think I'm a joke?"

"That wasn't a forced kiss, nor was it cheating."

Killian sighed, trying to take my hand, but I dodged.

His hand froze in mid-air, his gaze darkened, and he patiently explained:

"Elena is currently delirious. The doctor injected her with high doses of morphine and sedatives, these are side effects under the influence of drugs."

"She can't recognize people at all right now, she's just having an episode."

"She is a patient, Halen."

Killian looked at me, his eyes full of helplessness and blame, as if I were the cruel perpetrator.

"You are a healthy, rational normal person. You possess my complete love, possess a healthy body."

"Why bother arguing with a delirious dying person?"

"If your agitation causes her to have an episode and pass away here, you will bear a sense of guilt."

I looked at the man in front of me.

Even at this time, he still maintained that damn gentlemanly demeanor.

His logic was rigorous, impeccable.

He pushed all the dirty water onto "drugs" and "illness", picking himself clean.

And he stood on the moral high ground, accusing me of not being generous enough, not kind enough.

So, is this what it feels like to be loved by him?

Like arsenic wrapped in a layer of honey, sickly sweet and fatally toxic.

I took a deep breath, forcing back the tears about to burst forth.

I looked at Killian and suddenly revealed an extremely standard, fake smile.

"You're right, Killian."

"I shouldn't argue with a lunatic."

Killian's furrowed brows finally relaxed.

He touched my cheek with relief, his voice so gentle it could drip water:

"That's my good girl. I knew it, you are the most sensible."

"Go wait for me in the car, I'll come to keep you company after sending her into the ambulance."

Watching his back as he turned to support Elena, watching him carefully protect that woman's head from being blown by the wind.

I told myself in my heart, since Killian chose Elena.

Then I also had no reason to stay.