He Married Me to Pay Off His Sins

Mia’s words seemed to spark an idea in James. Without hesitation, he yanked me up from the bed, his grip firm and unyielding, and pressed my head against the phone to unlock it with Face ID.

The beep of success was a cruel sound. James wasted no time, scrolling through the settings and erasing his number from my emergency contacts.

“There,” he said coldly. “You’re in a hospital now. If anything happens, talk to the doctors. I’ll cover the bills, but don’t contact me again.”

He tossed the phone onto the bed, his disdain evident, then turned to Mia. Together, they began walking out of the room.

“James,” Mia said softly, glancing back at me with a mock expression of worry. “Are you sure this is okay? What if… she really doesn’t make it?”

James chuckled darkly, his voice dripping with scorn. “You’re overthinking. If she wanted to die, she’d have done it three years ago. She doesn’t have the guts for it.”

Mia let out a sigh of relief and turned to me with a sweet yet condescending smile. “Charlotte, take care of yourself, okay? James and I are going to celebrate the New Year. Don’t worry, I’ll visit you in a couple of days.”

Their footsteps faded, leaving the room silent but for the sound of my ragged breathing. I curled up under the quilt, my tears soaking the pillow as sobs wracked my body.

James was right. I should have died three years ago—in that disaster that took everything from me.

The weight of despair consumed me, and I spiraled into another panic attack. The piercing alarm of the ECG monitor echoed through the room, a frantic cry for help.

Doctors and nurses burst into the ward, their faces tense. “She’s in distress! Prepare for emergency resuscitation!”

“Charging, defibrillation at 200 Hz—clear!”

The doctor’s urgent voice faded as my consciousness blurred, and I slipped into an abyss of endless darkness.

In that darkness, memories from three years ago resurfaced—the disaster that shattered all my happiness.

I found myself reliving those days with James. We have known each other since childhood, growing up side by side. It wasn’t an exaggeration to call us childhood sweethearts.

That fateful summer, James had a fierce argument with his parents and, in his anger, insisted on running away. He dragged me along, and we ended up hiding in an abandoned mine.

We stayed there for an entire week, with no word from our families. At first, we were stubborn, believing they would come looking for us. But as the days passed, hope dwindled.

Finally, we ran out of food. The hunger and cold were unbearable. My body weakened, but I forced myself to carry James on my back, trembling as I dialed my parents for help.

The moment my parents heard where we had been, they came rushing to find us.

“You foolish child! I thought you were just out playing with James,” my mother cried, her voice thick with worry and heartbreak.

When I ran away with James, I was terrified of worrying my parents, so I left a note at home saying I was just going out to play with him for a few days.

I reassured my mom as she arrived, asking with concern, "I’m fine, Mom. Did you bring the things I wanted?" I comforted her, thinking I’d send them away once I had what I needed.

But my father, face tight with anxiety, wasn’t as understanding. “Do you still want to keep making trouble? No, you two need to go back today,” he insisted.

He stormed into the mine to look for James, his frustration palpable.

“Traitor! Charlotte, you’re a traitor!” My father’s angry voice echoed as he dragged James out of the mine, who was clearly unwilling to go.

Seeing James' resistance, my mother stepped forward, trying to calm him down.

“James, your parents are worried about you. Come back with us.”

But James, stubborn as ever, seized the moment when my father was distracted. He slammed the car door on my dad’s hand and ran back toward the mine.

Ignoring his injury, my father immediately ran after him, leaving my mother to hold my hand, urging me to wait outside.

Minutes later, James emerged from the mine, his face full of panic.

He pointed urgently at the mine. “Aunt Marie, go save Uncle Lester!”

My mother didn’t hesitate. She sprinted into the mine, and I immediately followed. James tried to stop me, but I was too quick, and he had no choice but to come along.

The mine was thick with smoke, and the scene inside was chaos. My father was pinned under a mass of falling rocks, his body struggling but immobile.

My mother rushed toward him, but another wave of rocks struck her, sending her crashing to the ground. Blood pooled around her, and she lay there, weak and on the verge of death.

“Charlotte, go! It’s dangerous here! Leave with James! Quickly!”