The Rose Wilted, The Marriage Followed Chapter 01

The Rose Wilted, The Marriage Followed Chapter 01

Arthur Sterling became the youngest chief of cardiothoracic surgery in the hospital’s history.

He’d saved countless lives. Mine just never made his list.

For years, I told myself I understood.

Then our anniversary rolled around. I’d booked a restaurant a month in advance. I texted him three reminders.

All I got back was one word. [Okay.]

I sat there until the restaurant closed around me. The white roses had curled at the edges by the time I left.

He never came.

Long past midnight, I found him in the hospital corridor.

He was sitting on a bench next to a woman.

I recognized her. Clara Hayes.

Arthur had been her late husband’s surgeon.

Clara looked up, startled, and wiped at her tears.

“Eleanor, I’m sorry. It’s been a year since my husband passed. I just… I couldn’t be alone tonight. Arthur stayed with me.”

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, sounding drained.

“Go home, Eleanor. Clara’s in a bad place right now.”

My eyes dropped to the white rose tucked into his breast pocket.

“Do you even remember what day it is?”

He didn’t answer.

But Clara did.

“You and Arthur will have so many more anniversaries, Eleanor. But today… today is all I have left of him.”

Arthur said nothing.

He pulled the white rose from his pocket and set it in Clara’s hand.

Something in me went dead quiet. I didn’t want to remind him anymore.

…

Arthur came home just before dawn.

The lock clicked.

I was sitting at the dining table. The coffee in front of me had gone cold hours ago.

He slipped off his coat, carefully, quietly, like he was trying not to wake me.

He saw me sitting there and stopped.

“Why aren’t you in bed?”

I noticed a water spot on his cuff.

A splash of water. Probably from the hospital dispenser.

I could picture it perfectly. Last night, when Clara was crying too hard to stand, he’d held her up with one arm and reached for a cup of water with the other.

“I was waiting for you.”

Arthur hung his coat over the chair and rubbed his eyes.

“Last night was different. Clara completely fell apart. I couldn’t just leave her there alone.”

He said it like it was obvious.

The same tone he’d use to explain a routine delay in surgery.

I nodded.

“Is she okay now?”

Clearly, he hadn’t expected me to ask.

“She’s better. They gave her a sedative. She’s asleep.”

My eyes drifted to the glass vase at the center of the table. Three white roses.

I’d brought them home from the restaurant.

The waiter had offered them to me as I left. I’d said yes.

After hours of waiting, wilted roses were all I had to show for it.

Arthur’s eyes flicked to the flowers. He paused, then walked over and pushed the vase aside.

“They’re wilted. Throw them out.”

My fingers tightened around the vase.

“You gave yours to her last night.”

Arthur frowned.

“It’s just a flower, Eleanor. She was sobbing. I was just trying to calm her down.”

“Just trying.”

I let his words hang between us.

Something in my voice must have hit him. He lowered his tone.

“Eleanor, don’t make this into something it’s not. Her husband was my patient. Before he passed, he asked me to take care of her.”

“Take care of her? Is that why you spent our anniversary holding her hand?”

Arthur looked at me. The exhaustion in his eyes was real.

“Anniversaries happen every year.”

Clara had said the same thing last night.

Hearing it from him should have hurt more. It didn’t.

There was only a weight in my chest, pressing down, slow and suffocating.

I stood and pulled the roses from the vase.

The petals had gone yellow at the edges, crumbling the second I touched them.

Arthur caught my wrist.

“Eleanor, stop. I’ve got two surgeries this afternoon. I don’t have the energy to argue about flowers.”

His fingers were ice-cold.

I looked down at his hand around my wrist.

Three years ago, at the courthouse, he’d held my hand just like this.

He’d told me a surgeon’s hands were steady. That once he held on, he wouldn’t let go.

Turns out steady hands can still reach for the wrong person.

“I’m not trying to start a fight.”

I pulled free and grabbed my keys off the entryway table.

Arthur’s brow furrowed.

“Where are you going?”

“The hospital.”

“Are you feeling sick again?”

Instinctively, he stepped toward me.

For one second, I almost believed that still meant something.

Then his phone rang.

A ringtone I’d never heard before. One he’d set just for her.

Arthur glanced at the screen and answered without hesitating.

“Clara? What’s wrong?”

I couldn’t hear what she said.

His expression shifted. He grabbed his coat and was already heading for the door.

“Hey, hey. I’m on my way. Just hold on.”

At the door, he finally remembered I was still standing there.

“If you need to get to the hospital, take an Uber. Something’s going on with Clara. I have to go.”

The door clicked shut behind him. Barely a sound.

But something inside me locked shut with it.

A draft caught one of the petals on the table and swept it onto the floor.

I stood there for a long time. Then I bent down, picked it up, and dropped it in the trash.

My phone vibrated once.

[Mrs. Sterling, your mom’s pre-op evaluation is complete. A family member must come to the cardiothoracic desk to sign the surgical consent form by this morning.]

I stared at the message.

Then I turned off the screen and walked out.

As the elevator doors slid closed, I caught a glimpse of Arthur’s car pulling out of the parking garage. Already gone.