Chapter 5: Bargains and Broken Hearts

A chill ran down my neck. “Don’t move. Let me see the wound.”

His touch was gentle, almost tender. I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the ache in my chest.

Suddenly, I felt a sharp ache inside.

It wasn’t just the wound—it was everything. The loneliness, the disappointment, the endless pretending.

The hospital was chaos that day—shouting, crying, the sharp tang of antiseptic. I’d barely had time to process what happened before Harrison showed up, insisting on treating me himself.

After he finished treating me, Harrison pressed a finger to my lips.

It was his way of asking for silence, for patience. I pulled away, not trusting myself to speak.

I knew what he meant. Honestly, for Harrison, this was as low as he knew how to go.

He wasn’t the kind of man who begged. This was as close as he’d ever come to asking for forgiveness.

My lack of cooperation made him angry. But he didn’t say anything.

“What are you mad about? The twenty-minute meals? That I didn’t comfort you when you got hurt? Or that I had my mom spend more time with you?”

His questions came out in a rush, frustration bleeding through. For once, he sounded almost desperate.

Looking at Harrison, I wondered—did I love him?

I searched his face for something—anything—that would tell me how he really felt. But all I saw was exhaustion.

Maybe I did. Otherwise, seeing Vanessa would never have made me resent him.

The jealousy was real, no matter how hard I tried to deny it.

“Harrison, in these three years, have you ever cheated on me?”

My voice was barely more than a whisper.

“No.”

He tipped my chin up. “Autumn, I will never cross that line with anyone else.”

His eyes were fierce, almost pleading. For the first time, I almost believed him.

We rode in silence the rest of the way.

The city lights blurred past the window, casting shadows on the leather seats. I pressed my forehead to the glass, trying to steady my breathing.

When we got home, Harrison showered and came out, frowning at the empty nightstand.

He looked around, confusion flickering across his face. I’d cleared away the clutter, trying to make the room feel less like a hotel and more like a home.

He came home once a week and always texted me in advance.

His messages were always the same—short, to the point. I never knew what to expect until he walked through the door.

If he got drunk, I’d have chicken soup ready for him.

It was a small thing, but it made him smile. Sometimes, I caught him watching me, a soft look in his eyes.

He didn’t like anyone else in the house, so I handled everything.

Cleaning, cooking, laundry—I did it all, just to keep the peace. It was easier than letting strangers in.

“What happened to your face?”

I’d tied all my hair up. Harrison traced the scab on my ear. “Who hit you?”

His touch was gentle, but his voice was tight with anger.

“Savannah.”

He loosened my hair tie. “Don’t provoke her.”

He sounded tired, like he’d given up trying to change anything.

He turned off the lights, hugged me from behind, and kissed my neck. “Can I?”

His breath was warm against my skin. I nodded, more out of habit than desire.

He undid my pajama buttons, his kisses moving lower, but I felt nothing. Harrison’s frustration was barely contained.

His hands trembled, just a little. I wondered if he noticed.

“Autumn, I don’t get it. What exactly are you mad about?”

His voice cracked, just a little. I almost felt sorry for him.

“Harrison, do you love me?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and unspoken for too long.

“You’re a very good wife.”

It wasn’t the answer I wanted, but it was all he could give.

“There are plenty of women who’d love to be your wife. I just don’t get why you won’t let me go.”

I tried to keep my voice steady, but it shook anyway.

Harrison turned on the light, leaned against the headboard, and lit a cigarette, his sharp features blurred by the smoke.

He took a long drag, exhaled slowly. The room filled with the scent of tobacco and frustration.

“I need an heir. Give me a son, and I’ll let you go.”

His words were cold, transactional. I felt something inside me break.

“Will you love him?”

He looked puzzled. “Can’t he grow up without love?”

His answer stunned me. I stared at him, realizing just how different we really were.

He pressed down on me again. I laughed silently. “I don’t want to.”

My laughter was bitter, empty. I pushed him away, turning my face to the wall.

“Then I won’t agree to a divorce either.” Harrison lay down beside me. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

He closed his eyes, shutting me out. I stared at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the plaster.