Chapter 5

The Weight I Carried

Julian 

I drove faster than I should have, but I could not slow down. My hands were tight on the steering wheel, and my mind kept replaying what had just happened at home. Emilia’s voice when she said she wanted a divorce stayed in my head. I did not understand what had come over her. She had been emotional lately, but this felt different. I kept my eyes on the road, but my mind was not steady. I had walked away from her without answering her question. She asked if I had ever loved her, and I said nothing. I told myself that I would explain everything when I got back. But at that moment, all I could think about was the call from the hospital. They said Cassandra was in pain and that it was serious.

Still, as much as I wanted to turn the car around, my worry for Cassandra’s baby would not let me think about anything else. All I could focus on was getting to the hospital on time.

I knew Emilia thought I chosed Cassandra over her. Maybe from the outside it looked that way but she did not know the full truth. As I drove, I let out a long breath and tried to steady myself. I owed my life to that baby. I owed everything to Tristan. 

Two years ago, when my kidneys failed, I was ready to give up. I still remembered lying in that hospital bed, weak and scared. Tristan had walked in and said, “You’re not dying before me. I won’t allow it.” I had laughed at him then, but he was serious. He gave me his kidney without hesitation. He signed the papers and told me, “Live well, Julian. That’s all I ask.”

After the surgery, when I tried to thank him, he said, “If anything ever happens to me, take care of my family.” At the time, I told him nothing would happen. But I was wrong. Few months after, he died from kidney failure. His body could not fight anymore. The day he passed, I stood beside his bed, and he held my hand. “Promise me,” he whispered. “Take care of Cassandra. Take care of my baby.” I nodded. “I promise.” Those were the last words I ever said to him.

After rehab and therapy, I had tried to rebuild myself. When my father became ill, he told me he would give the company to charity if I did not settle down and show stability. That was when I approached Emilia. She was the top student in her class. Smart. Disciplined. And focused. I knew she needed money to clear her student loans and support her sister. So, I offered her a contract marriage. I would pay her debts and provide for her sister. In return, she would marry me so my father would see I was serious about life and hand me the company. It was a business arrangement. With clear terms and expectations of love.

I did not expect her to become important to me. I did not expect myself to notice the way she worked late without complaining or how she remembered small details about my meetings. I kept my distance because I did not think I deserved her. I was afraid I would ruin her the way I ruined Liliana. I wanted to be better before I touched her heart fully. That was why I held back. And that was why our marriage stayed distant.

When I arrived at the hospital, I hurried inside and went straight to Cassandra’s room. She was lying on the bed, crying. Her face was pale, and her hands were shaking. The moment she saw me, she reached out. “Julian,” she said softly, with her voice breaking. “You came.”

“Of course I came,” I replied, stepping closer. “What happened?”

She held my arm tightly. “The pain started suddenly. I was so scared. I thought something was wrong with the baby.”

I felt fear rise in my chest. “Did the doctor say anything?”

As if on cue, the doctor walked in. He looked at both of us and said, “She is experiencing serious pregnancy pain due to stress. The baby is stable for now, but she needs rest and proper care.”

“Is the baby really okay?” I asked, my voice low.

“For now, yes,” the doctor answered. “But she must avoid stress completely.”

Cassandra wiped her tears. “I try not to stress,” she said, “but it’s hard doing everything alone.”

I stayed with her for hours. I sat beside her bed and made sure she ate something. When she winced in pain, I called the nurse immediately. “It’s okay,” I told her quietly more than once. “You’re not alone. I’m here.”

Late in the evening, when she finally looked calmer, she turned to me. “Julian,” she said gently, “can I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

“My house feels so empty,” she admitted. “Every corner reminds me of Tristan. I can’t sleep there anymore. It feels lonely. Could I stay at your place for a while? Just until I feel better?”

I hesitated as Emilia’s angry face flashed in my mind. The way she shouted. The way she asked if I ever loved her. I knew bringing Cassandra into the mansion without talking to Emilia would only make things worse.

“I need to speak with Emilia first,” I said carefully.

Cassandra looked down. “Is she upset with me?”

“No,” I replied quickly, even though I was not sure that was true. “She’s just… stressed.”

“I don’t want to cause problems,” Cassandra said quietly.

“You’re not a problem,” I answered. “Let me talk to her. I’ll handle it.”

After Cassandra’s condition became stable, I left the hospital and drove home. This time I drove slower as Emilia’s words kept replaying in my mind. I had not answered her question. Did I ever love her? I did not know how to answer that. I respected her. I admired her strength. But love was something I had never allowed myself to think about. My life had been filled with responsibilities and promises.

When I got home, the house felt too quiet. I went straight to our bedroom. “Emilia?” I called. But there was no response. I walked inside and looked around. Something felt wrong. The room looked empty in a way I could not explain at first. Then I opened the wardrobe and her clothes were gone.

My heart started beating faster. “Emilia?” I called again, louder this time. I checked the bathroom. It was empty. I walked back into the bedroom and looked at the dresser. That was when I saw it. A set of papers lay neatly on top.

I stepped closer and picked them up. My hands felt cold as I read the heading, Divorce papers. 

For a moment, I could not breathe. She had not been speaking out of anger earlier. She had already made up her mind. I stood there, staring at her signature at the bottom of the page.