Chapter 19

Helena’s POV

My heart skipped a beat as his words forced themselves down my ears and mind.

They hovered between us, heavy, uncertain… dangerous.

I haven't seen my grandfather this serious too often, especially in this kind of situation he is in.

Whatever he had to say must be gold.

I stared at my grandfather as my fingers were still wrapped around his and my heart tried desperately to recover from everything he had already said.

For a moment, I didn’t respond, I didn’t move, I didn’t breathe properly. Cause something in his tone had shifted.

This wasn’t the usual argument, this wasn’t him trying to force me back home out of stubborn pride.

This felt… different, slower, heavier, like he had some sort of confession lined up.

And after what felt like forever, I spoke up.

“What is it, grandpa?” I asked quietly with my voice far softer than I intended.

He didn’t answer immediately as his gaze drifted away from me and towards the ceiling, like he was gathering strength or courage to say them.

The machines beside him continued their steady rhythm.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

And I never knew the beeping of a machine could be so scary till it felt like a timer.

“I didn’t push you away just because I wanted control,” he finally said, and I let out a small, humorless breath without knowing. 

“That’s exactly what it felt like, grandpa,” I cut in.

“I know,” he replied weakly, and that alone made me pause.

He didn’t argue, he didn’t defend himself, he didn’t correct me. That wasn’t like him.

My grip on his hand tightened slightly. “Then what was it?” I pressed.

He swallowed slowly with his throat moving slowly like it took more than just a gulp.

Then his eyes came back to mine. “I’m sick,” he started in the simplest of manners.

He was stating the obvious, but for some reason, they didn't feel that obvious any longer. 

My brows pulled together. “Yeah, heard you collapsed, I know that but—”

“No,” he interrupted weakly. “Not just that.”

Something cold slid down my spine. “What do you mean?” I asked with my voice barely above a whisper now.

He took a slow breath, like even speaking was taking a lot from him.

“The doctors found it months ago,” he started again.

Months? My chest tightened. Found what exactly? And it's been that long?

“You’ve known for months?” I asked in shock. “Found what though?”

He nodded slightly before forming a thin line with his lips. “A tumor,” he replied weakly.

I felt my tummy drop to base. “A… tumor?” I repeated.

“Yeah, in my brain,” he added.

Everything inside me went still, like completely dead.

I stood, not necessarily knowing how I hadn't fallen yet as the world around me seemed to have fallen since.

My fingers loosened slightly from his hand.

“How bad is it?” I asked, though a part of me already knew I wouldn’t like the answer.

He didn’t respond immediately, and that silence told me everything.

“It’s growing,” he finally said. “And fast.”

My throat tightened painfully. “And…?” I pushed, even though I didn’t want to.

“They can remove it,” he said. “But the surgery… it’s expensive.”

There it was, the missing piece. The thing that connected everything.

The collapse.

The secrecy.

The pressure.

They all led to this.

My chest rose and fell slowly. “How expensive?” I asked.

He let out a weak breath. “More than both of us can afford together,” he muttered and had to accept it.

I just started working and I can imagine the face Barron would keep if I walk into his office and ask for an early pay after a day of work.

That would probably be my last moment in his office.

I swallowed hard, trying to process everything at once. “You could’ve told me,” I said quietly.

“I didn’t want to burden you,” he replied.

A bitter laugh almost escaped my lips. “Instead, you pushed me out?” I said.

His gaze dropped to the other side. “I thought I could handle it,” he admitted. “I thought I had a solution.”

Something in the way he said that made my chest tighten again. “A solution?” I repeated slowly.

His eyes lifted back to mine in a way I hadn't seen in a while. “There’s someone willing to help,” he said.

My stomach twisted and I nearly shifted his bed as I stepped forward. “Who?” I asked immediately.

He hesitated for the slightest of seconds.

Then—

“The man I asked you to marry,” he dropped…

I went blank, didn't know how to react, didn't know how to think, didn't know what to say.

The first action I took was to step back, I slowly pulled my hand away from him, putting as much room as possible between us.

“You’re serious,” I said.

“I am,” he replied.

And finally, the reaction that I had in me burst out, a laugh escaped my lips.

“So this…” I gestured around the room. “This is why?”

“Yes,” he replied gravely.

“So you’re actually using me,” I said flatly.

His expression tightened. “That’s not what this is,” he defended.

“It is exactly what this is,” I snapped with my voice rising despite myself. “You’re asking me to marry a stranger so you can pay for your fucking surgery.”

“I’m asking you to help me live!” He yelled, lifting his body slightly before dropping heavily back down.

I went cold. I knew it wasn't good for him to have reacted that way, but I couldn't help but not care.

So after all these while, he was actually using me as I thought.

“You didn’t even ask,” I said with my voice shaking now. “You made the decision for me.”

“I didn’t have time!” He replied.

“And I didn’t have a choice!” I fired back.

Silence took over the room again.

The machine continued its steady beeping, like it was the only thing keeping everything from completely falling apart.

He looked at me differently now, not angry, not demanding. Just… tired.

“I was scared,” he said quietly, and that hit differently. “And I'm still scared,” he added.

My anger faltered slightly, just the slightest.

“You think I’m not?” I whispered.

And his eyes softened.

“For the first time in my life… I can’t control what happens to me,” he said. “And I hate it.”

I swallowed hard.

“I don’t want to die, Helena,” he whispered and I nearly broke down.

“And this man…” he continued, slower now, even weaker, “he can make sure that doesn’t happen.”

I closed my eyes briefly. “This isn’t right,” I whispered.

“He’s wealthy,” my grandfather continued. “Powerful. He can give you everything.”

“I don’t want everything!” I snapped. “I just want my life!” I added.

“And what about mine?” He asked softly. “Don't I deserve to keep my life?” He asked and that broke something.

Silence filled the room again, but this time it was crushing.

“He promised to take care of you,” my grandfather continued. “To give you a future.”

“I already have a future,” I said.

“With him, it will be better,” he muttered.

“At what cost?” I asked, and he didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he just looked at me, and for the first time in a while, he looked old, not strong, not commanding as usual, just old.

“You’re all I have,” he said quietly.

My chest tightened. 

“I already lost your grandmother,” he added.

That name alone made my throat close up.

“I can’t lose you too,” he muttered and I felt a tear slip out.

My vision blurred slightly.

“And if I die…” he continued, his voice breaking faintly, “you’ll lose me as well.”

Tears now slipped down my cheeks freely before I could stop them.

This wasn’t fair, none of this was fair.

“You’re asking me to give up my life,” I whispered.

“No, I’m asking you to save mine,” he replied, and the room felt too small again.

Too tight, too suffocating, like all the air had been punched out.

My thoughts tangled into each other.

Anger.

Pain.

Fear.

Guilt.

Everything at once.

“I can’t answer this right now,” I said finally.

He looked like he wanted to say more, like there was something else.

But the door suddenly opened and a man dressed in their doctor uniform stepped in.

He stood at the door, just staring at the both of us for a while before speaking.

“He needs to rest,” he said firmly, glancing between us and practically handing me my ticket outside.

My grandfather’s eyes lingered on mine as I pulled back. “We’ll talk,” he said weakly.

But I didn’t respond, cause I didn’t know how to.

The doctor gently guided me out of the room, closing the door behind me.

And just like that… I was alone again, alone with everything he had just said.

I leaned against the wall outside the room with my mind replaying everything again.

The tumor.

The money.

The marriage.

The choice.

The—ohh gawd. I let out a shaky breath. He needed me, but not in the way I wanted.

I felt… used, but I also felt… guilty.

Conflicted could be a better way to put it, maybe even lost.

What if this actually saved him?

What if this destroyed me?

I didn’t know, I really didn’t know.

I didn't have time to put any answer together as my phone rang loudly through my pocket.

I pulled it out and straightened immediately.