The Promise

Adrain's POV

“What is it!” I mumbled under my breath, as my phone vibrated in my pocket for the third time in the last few minutes.

I usually ensure that I silence all calls when in meetings, and only a few people were able to bypass the DND feature on my phone.

“Excuse me.” I said as I brought my phone out of my pocket.

It was Doctor Rowan, my mother's doctor. I frowned at the screen. That morning, my mother had gone for her check up. I had dropped her at the hospital to ensure she does not come up with an excuse to avoid it.

“I have to take this,” I remarked, and stood up.

The directors nodded their heads. I walked out of the meeting room and responded. “Hello, doctor Rowan, what happened? How is my mother?”

“Good day Mr Adrian. “I hate to inform you but your mother has been admitted. “ Doctor Rowan said.

My stomach tightened. "Admitted? She was there for a checkup. Whats wrong with her?”

There was a short pause. “It would be better to talk about it in person.” Doctor Rowan replied.

That was never a good sign.

“I will be there in twenty minutes.” I said before I hung up and I called my driver. As I went back to the conference room, everybody stared at me.

“We will continue this meeting tomorrow,” I said. "Meeting adjourned."

No one argued. The hospital ride was the longest ride I have ever had. I entered the automatic doors and directly went to the front desk.

“Mr Vale.” A nurse called me. “Doctor Rowan said to meet him upstairs.”

“Thank you.” I mumbled as I made my way to my mother’s ward whilst I tried to convince myself it was nothing serious. Maybe high blood pressure. Maybe exhaustion. My mother was melodramatic at times.

However, as I saw Dr Rowan was standing outside my mother’s ward with a frown on his face, I knew that it was not all so easy.

"Mr. Vale," he greeted.

"What happened?" I asked, skipping the pleasantries.

He nodded slowly. “After Mrs Vale came in for check up, we noticed some oddities and hence we ran a few tests and found something. Cancer."

I could not understand the word initially.

Cancer?

I stared at him. "That's not possible. She was fine."

"It wasn't detected earlier. She ignored some symptoms. The disease had advanced by the time she accepted to undergo a complete screening.” He replied.

I ran a hand through my hair. "What stage?"

He hesitated. "Not beyond treatment."

This was the brightest section of the sentence.

"So there's hope?" I asked quickly.

"Yes. We will begin chemotherapy right now. We still have options. It is grave, Mr. Vale, but it is not at an end.” He said, honestly.

I exhaled slowly. My brain was already going forward, best hospitals, experts, global consultations, clinical trials. Money wasn't a problem. I would pay whatever it took.

Dr. Howard examined me closely. “She will require emotional support. Stress will make this harder. Be strong for her.”

"I understand."

He gave me a small smile. "She's asking for you."

As I walked into her room, she sat up on her bed. Not used to seeing her hooked up to so many machines, it broke my heart.

When she saw me, she gave me a small smile. “Adrian…”

I forced a smile, and walked to her bed. "You scared me today."

She tried to smile back. "So they told you."

"Yes." I pulled a chair closer. "Why didn't you say anything?”

"It’s nothing." She waved a weak hand. "I didn't want to worry you."

“That is not your decision to make.” I said, kissing her hand which had a drip attached to it.

She looked at my face. "You're angry."

"I'm concerned.”

“DR Rowan told me it’s not too late to begin treatment.” She paused. But also they said time is uncertain. I may not make it.”

I did not like the direction this was taking.

“Don’t say that,” I said sternly.

She shook her head slowly. "Adrian... listen to me."

I stayed silent.

“I am not scared of dying,” she said. "I have lived well. I built something. I raised you."

"You're not dying." I corrected.

She ignored that. “ But there is one thing I am scared of.”

I closed my eyes briefly. I knew.

"Mother--"

“Before I die , I want to have my grandchild in my arms.” She said.

There it was.

I got up and moved towards the window. "This isn't the time for this."

"It is exactly the time." She argued.

“I do not even have a lady in my life.” I tried to explain.

She offered me a glance which I had seen too frequently. "There is Cassandra."

I nearly laughed, but it was not funny. “She is not even my friend.”

"She is perfect for you." She argued. “She is a good family girl, educated, elegant.“

"I don't love her."

"Love grows." She persuaded.

I shook my head. "This isn't the 1950s."

She sighed. “I have seen you seek a shelter behind your job all these years. You avoid relationships. You have them all pushed away.”

"That's not true." I lied.

"Adrian." Her eyes filled with tears. "Please. I want to see you married. I would like to know that you will not be left alone when I go. I want to hold your child. I want to see my baby have his own baby.”

I felt cornered.

Cassandra Whitmore.

She was beautiful, polite, well-mannered. My mother adored her. She had been dropping hints of how perfect Cassandra was months earlier. Family dinners. Charity events. Coincidental invitations.

I knew this was coming.

“Please Adrain, do this for me. It after some time, it turns out she is not the one for you, you can end it. Please Adrain.” She begged, tears dropping from her eyes to her cheeks.

I ran a hand down my face. It was not a matter of compatibility. It was about guilt.

She appeared weak on that hospital bed. Tubes in her arm. Machines around her.

And she was requesting me of something easy.

Marriage.

A child.

A future which she may not live to see.

“Mother….”

She cut me off. “It’s fine. I am no one after all. You can live your life how you want. I’ll soon be removed from it anyways.”

Her words hit deeper than they should.

This was blackmailing emotionally.

And she knew it.

I let out a long breath. "You're not being fair."

“I carried you in my womb for nine months,” she said. “I brought you up single-handedly after your father passed away. Is this too much to ask?"

I closed my eyes.

This was the reason why I did not want to engage in such conversations. She was able to do this because she understood how to appeal to the side of me that was still a son before a CEO.

“How… how do I even start telling Cassandra I lo- want to get married to her?” I asked.

“I will speak to Margaret, “ she went on. “We will talk over dinner. She wants this too. I know it.”

I looked at her again. All over her face was written hope.

She actually thought that this was the right thing.

For me.

For her.

For the family name.

“I do not want to force Cassandra into this,” I tried to argue.

"It’s not a trap.” She replied.

I stood there for a long time.

Control was the foundation of my whole life. Negotiations. Calculated risks. Logical decisions.

This was none of those things.

This was emotional.

Personal.

Messy.

"Adrian," she whispered. "Please."

Silence filled the room.

I thought about refusing. About walking away. Of telling her that I would think about it.

But then the doctor had ruled out stress and anything that would lead to it.

My refusal would only increase it.

Worsening her already frail condition.

And I couldn't do it.

I walked back to her bed.

“Yes,” I said, “ but under one condition, you concentrate on treatment. “No stress. No drama."

Her eyes widened slightly. "Does that mean--?"

“Yes, I said. "I'll marry Cassandra."