Chapter 131

Adrian

“Married?” I ask, stuttering over the word as I fail to properly process the words that Clara has just said to me. I blink at her excited nod, the way she grabs my hands as if it is second nature to her. “We can’t get married—”

“We can! It’s the perfect timing for us! We always said that we wanted to, so what’s stopping us?” Clara asks with hope filled in her voice.

Her entire demeanor has shifted in a split second. She has gone from a medically induced coma, asleep, unaware of the world around her as she recovers from her suicide attempt, to a conscious and aware, woman that is now planning a wedding inside of her head. The mood of the room gives me whiplash, knocking the air from my lungs as I struggle to breathe.

“Adrian,” Clara begins. She takes my hands and hers, giving them a squeeze. “Do you remember that night we spent together? The one where we stayed up all weekend with a bottle of wine cracked open, just us and the stars above us?”

I nod my head and swallow, the lump that forms in my throat.

I remember that night all too well. We stayed up and stared at the night sky, pointing out constellations and shooting stars that passed by. We remained close to each other, tucked away underneath a blanket, holding hands as the night passed us by.

We spoke of many things that night. We talked about a venue and where to get married, the type of cake that we would want, and even the choice for our first dance song. To me, it felt like it was just a fun time, a glimpse into our shared future with one another, something fun and lighthearted, not to be taken seriously.

I suppose, though, that things have changed. With Clara, putting her life on the line, she is most likely hanging on to this desperation, the last lifeline in her life, to keep herself sane. That our marriage will somehow be a Band-Aid over a bullet hole after she has tried so many times to destroy the one woman in my life that I love with all of my heart… Stella.

“I have a wedding dress picked out already,” the woman in bed sheepishly admits. She text her golden hair behind her ear. “I really do think you would love it. It's very pretty. I have been saving it for us.”

I do not focus on Clara. My mind wanders back to Stella and our marriage with one another. She wore a beautiful floor length dress, the white fabric complementing her skin so well. She wore avail over her head and I remember how slowly I removed it, revealing her perfect makeup and girlish smile that made my heart a beat. Hell, my heart skips a beat now thinking about it.

Oh, how I would go back in time and redo my marriage with Stella instead of marrying Clara. I would give anything in the world to turn back the clock, to undo all of the mistakes that I have made when it comes to the love of my life and make her the most important person in my life instead of someone who wishes to use me.

Am I really contemplating getting married to Clara right now? As I look at her, laying in bed, her teary eyes focused on me, there is a small part of my mind that thinks marrying Clara will avoid so many problems for me in the future.

If I say no, and she continues to torment me and my life, to ruin everything good that I have created because she cannot regulate a single emotion, then I will inevitably lose everything, including Stella. If I do choose to go along with the marriage to Clara, then I would have successfully “tamed” her, keeping her happy and sedated while Stella and I move our separate ways in life.

No matter what situation I find myself in. No matter what choice I decide to make… In the end, I am bound to lose Stella. The thought chills me to my core, making my blood, feel so cold, despite the heat that flares up in my chest at the thought of never being able to see her again.

I stand up from the chair. It drags against the ground, tumbling backwards as it falls. I look down at her, shaking my head, unable to wrap my head around the fact that I am genuinely contemplating this and what choice to make.

If somebody were to ask me a week ago, if I would marry, Clara, I would say no. I would laugh in their face and tell them that the world would have to end and we had to be the last people on the planet for me to even think about going back to her. But now? Now, everything has changed.

“I need time to think about it,” I slowly nod my head, unable to bring myself to look at Clara in the eyes.

If I do, I may throw up and lose control of my emotions, to scream and shout and beg for life to finally release its chokehold on me. To allow myself the time to live life and love those who I want to love. I cannot keep putting my life on the back burner because of a single choice, one that is sure to ruin me no matter what I choose.

Just as I am about to turn away, Clara takes my hand in hers, draw me back to her. I looked down at the woman in the bed. I raise an eyebrow, unsure what it is she's about to say. My heart goes still.

“I want you to make the right choice here, Adrian,” Clara lowers her voice. There is a hint of danger in it, a silent threat that is now hanging over my head.

What could she possibly mean by this? Why does it feel like I'm being led to my death right now? The guillotine sits right up ahead, the blade shining underneath the morning sun on the day of my death.

If I choose a life without Clara, am I condemning myself with having her blood on my hands? Will it be me who is responsible for Clara killing herself? Is that the threat she is posing to me right now?

It feels as if my head has been stuck into the guillotine. All I can do is wait, feeling the tension settle into my bones, my muscles and nerve endings feeling like they're on fire as I squirm in my spot. At any moment, the blade will drop. My life will be over in a matter of seconds and person in charge of my life is the one who holds all of the power.

“What will happen if I don’t?” I boldly ask, unable to contain my curiosity. Or, perhaps, I need to realize just how messy of a situation I find myself in.

“If you don’t make the right choice,” Clara’s grip on my hand tightens, gaze sharpening like a knife, “then you will be attending a funeral instead of a wedding.”