Sorry, My Groom Has Changed

A violent wave of nausea washed over me. I threw back the covers and began to dry-heave.

Dante flinched. He snatched the blanket, tossing it to the floor as if it were on fire, and anxiously patted my back. "Elara, what is it? Are you feeling sick?"

The cloying scent of Isabella's perfume on him filled my nostrils. My stomach churned violently, and I couldn't hold it back any longer. I threw up.

After years of nothing but nutrient drips, all I brought up was bitter bile.

Seeing this, Dante grew even more frantic and pulled me into his arms.

"Elara, are you okay?"

I wanted to shove him away, but my body was too weak. I could only shake my head feebly.

"I'm getting a doctor," he said, his voice tight with worry. "You need a full check-up."

The concern in his eyes deepened. He threw on his clothes, called for a doctor, and Isabella tactfully slipped out of the room.

The test results came back quickly, showing I had recovered remarkably well. The doctor said I could be discharged in three days.

Hearing the news, the smile in Dante's eyes widened. He picked up the ring again. Before I could resist, he slid it onto my finger, his tone brooking no argument.

"Elara, the gods must have sent you back to me. They saw how much I suffered waiting. We'll go to the church in three days, the day you're discharged. Next month, I'm going to throw you the grandest wedding Chicago has ever seen."

I swallowed down my disgust and managed a soft, "Mm."

I was going to the church, all right. But the groom wouldn't be him.

Dante started to say more, but I lay down and turned my back to him.

"I'm tired. I want to rest. You can go."

A flicker of disappointment crossed his face, but he left without another word.

The moment the door clicked shut, I grabbed the phone from the bedside table and dialed a number from memory.

A deep, cool voice answered on the other end.

"Who is this?"

"It's me. Elara. Ten years ago, you asked me to marry you. Does that offer still stand?"

The man on the other end was silent for a beat, clearly stunned. When he spoke again, a raw, suppressed excitement thickened his voice.

"Elara... you're awake? That offer... as long as I'm alive, it always stands. But... are you really ready to leave Dante Moretti?"

I didn't answer his question. I just stated calmly:

"Then come to the church in three days. And marry me."