Chapter 2: The Miracle Groom Wakes

There was only one master in the Whitaker household—Jackson. The place was eerily quiet, the kind of hush that feels like it’s waiting for something to happen.

Since he hadn’t woken up, after bowing to Jackson’s photo instead of an actual groom, I was sent to the bridal suite alone. The room smelled faintly of cedar and old books.

Under my veil, I could faintly hear whispers from the hallway. “She’s so young and already a widow…” “As long as Captain Whitaker doesn’t wake up, the county won’t be at peace.” “Heard she’s cold-hearted, obsessed with money?” “Always chasing after Marcus, it’s disgraceful…”

I’d heard such talk every day for the first eighteen years of my life. I was numb to it, the words bouncing off like rain on a tin roof.

Because of my status, no one came to play pranks on my wedding night. Instead, the staff tiptoed around me, eyes averted, as if I might break.

After sunset, I took off my veil, ate two plates of cake, and drank a pot of coffee. I sat at the vanity, the taste of sugar and caffeine lingering on my tongue, my reflection a stranger in white lace.

Only after feeling full did I remember my husband, Jackson, lying in bed. The thought made me snort—what a fairy tale.

So I sat beside him, watching with interest. Sharp brows, tanned skin, thin lips pressed tight. Even in a coma, his brows were furrowed, sweat beading on his forehead in the summer heat.

I took out a handkerchief, ready to wipe his sweat. My hand hovered over his face, unsure.

Suddenly, his head jerked. “No, no… no!”

To my surprise, he shook his head and woke up, eyes wild and unfocused. For a moment, he looked right through me, like he was searching for a memory he couldn’t quite reach.

Since I was supposed to spend my life with him, I figured I should try to get along, so I reached out to wipe his sweat. But before I could, he grabbed my wrist in a vise grip—so tight I thought he’d crush me. His strength surprised me.

“Captain Whitaker, it’s our wedding night. That’s not exactly appropriate.” I shook my trapped wrist, trying to keep my voice light.

His confusion cleared in an instant, and his grip loosened. “I… I’m married?” He blinked, then called out, “Savannah…”

“Wrong,” I said with a smile that didn’t reach my eyes.

“Autumn? Why is it you?!”

“Yeah, why isn’t it my sister? Sorry to disappoint you.”

I shrugged, feeling oddly triumphant. It was the first time I’d ever surprised him.

Jackson—a real man, through and through. The moment he realized he’d married me instead of the beloved Savannah, he showed incredible determination and a passion for recovery. That very night, he sat up in bed, refusing to be cowed by fate.

The next day, he was walking with a cane, stubborn as a mule. By the fifth day, he was striding around like nothing had happened! The staff watched him with awe and a little fear.

Love—or maybe pride—makes people do crazy things. Before the wedding, he’d never openly expressed any feelings for Savannah. So when news of his recovery spread, everyone thought it was thanks to me.

The eldest Ashford daughter shows up, the captain wakes up—just like a storybook! Folks in town started calling us the miracle couple, and I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony.

Jackson’s awakening became a stabilizing force. Word reached the county line, and the troublemakers, sensing the shift, backed down. The town exhaled, the sense of doom lifting like fog after rain.

Suddenly, we became the most talked-about couple in the county. The stone lions at the Whitaker mansion gate gleamed again, and the threshold was replaced three times in five days. It was the kind of spectacle folks would gossip about for years.

Dad used the grandest wedding procession ever seen to satisfy my vanity and, in a way, severed our father-daughter bond. The message was clear: I was on my own now.

So on the day I was supposed to return to the Ashford estate, a senior aide delivered a letter: only Jackson was to enter city hall. The bride should stay home and learn to be a proper lady of the house. “Don’t come to city hall unless necessary.”

That final line, stamped in bright red, stung my eyes. For some reason, the red looked like burning autumn leaves, searing my eyes in an instant. It was as if Dad was erasing me from his life, one official memo at a time.

Eighteen years raising the daughter of a disgraced woman—was that enough? I crumpled the letter in my fist, the paper soft from the pressure.

Fine. Fine.

I took a small wooden box from beside the wall and stuffed the letter inside, closing it tight. It joined a hundred other secrets I’d locked away.

That afternoon, Jackson returned from city hall, beaming. When he saw me, the smile never left his face. It was so out of character, I almost didn’t recognize him.

I was surprised—since that night, he hadn’t spoken to me, let alone smiled. I wondered what had changed.

“Sis!” A bright, innocent face popped out from behind him. Of course—his beloved was by his side.

Savannah bounced in, her energy filling the room. “I didn’t see you at city hall today, Sis, only my brother-in-law. I was worried you’d be lonely, so I came with him. You don’t mind, do you?”

I forced a smile, masking the pang in my chest. “You’re always so considerate. If you want to visit, just come. Why would I mind? Right, Jackson?”

I looked at Jackson. His face was pale—clearly, Savannah’s “brother-in-law” reminded him their future together was impossible. He looked like he wanted to say something but swallowed it.

But he didn’t dare get angry at Savannah. She was delicate, like a willow in the wind, and he was afraid even a harsh word would break her. So his face twitched, and he tried to press his lips together, but stopped himself.

He lowered his head and said to me in a low voice, “Mrs. Whitaker, please call me ‘Captain.’ We’re not that close.”

He didn’t look at Savannah, just stormed off, face tense. He scolded me in the gentlest tone—overbearing and humble all at once. It was almost comical.

I found it funny and actually laughed out loud. The sound surprised even me.

“Sis, what’s so funny?” Savannah asked, confused.

I wiped a tear from my eye and didn’t answer. Some things were better left unsaid.

After Savannah left, I returned to my room, calm and unhurried. The silence was a relief.