She Married Me to Save Her Family

Mo Yichen didn't know how long he had been sitting there on the cold bench, staring blankly at the white walls of the silent corridor. But he was sure it had been a long time. Then, the silence was shattered by the screeching sound of a stretcher being wheeled out. He shot up instantly. He had to see her. He must see her.

The Xia couple walked beside the stretcher, accompanied by an assistant whom Mo Yichen didn't recognize. With long, urgent strides, he joined them, and then he saw her.

There she was, lying unconscious.

Just yesterday, she had been full of fire, speaking with sharp wit, eating with graceful elegance, managing her work with stunning efficiency, and simply being beautiful.

And now she lay there, bruised and battered.

Her arms and legs were wrapped in bandages. Her pretty, pretty eyes were hidden beneath pale, unmoving lids.

This is all my fault, he thought.

Xia Ruyan was transferred to a private room. Mo Yichen wasn't allowed in.

Mr. and Mrs. Xia, eyes still filled with tears, gently placed their daughter on the hospital bed and tucked her into a fluffy blanket, one that was not standard hospital issue. The room had been arranged to suit her preferences: soft curtains, coral roses blooming quietly in a vase by the window, and pale bedsheets she liked.

Madam Xia brushed her fingers through Ruyan's hair, and suddenly, as if a dam inside her had cracked, she broke down. Clinging to her husband, she cried. Her soft, broken sobs echoed through the quiet ward, each one stabbing deeper into Mo Yichen's guilt.

It was my fault.

Lee Jian stood beside his boss, holding a cup of tea. He knew it had been an accident, but one that could have been prevented if only President Mo had swallowed his pride and taken control of his temper. Still, Lee Jian also knew the Xia family shared part of the blame. They had asked Mo Yichen to protect their daughter, but never told him what she needed protection from.

"Sir… please, have some tea," he said softly.

"No need," Mo Yichen replied, still in a trance.

Lee Jian didn't insist. He had already informed the Mo family. Whether they would come or not, only time would tell. Eventually, the Xia couple emerged from the room. Their eyes locked onto Mo Yichen.

"President Mo, you're a busy man," Mr. Xia said, his voice thick and tired. "Please… go back."

"Mr. Xia, please, just let me see her once. Just once," Mo Yichen requested, his voice low and trembling. He didn't understand why this need to see her was consuming him, but it was.

He took a step toward the door, but Yu Heng immediately moved to block him. He wasn't just Mr. Xia's right-hand man; he had watched Ruyan grow up. She called him Uncle. There was no way he would let a man like Mo Yichen near her now.

"There's no need for your concern," Yu Heng said coldly. "You should be with your woman… the one waiting outside."

Mo Yichen froze.

Another woman?

Only then did it hit him, he should have addressed those rumors long ago. Long before those rumors came to bite him hard.

"I believe there's a misunderstanding," Lee Jian tried to explain.

But Mo Yichen couldn't speak. The weight of his silence felt heavier than any words.

"Mo Yichen," Madam Xia said, her voice fragile yet sharp, "we made a mistake. We trusted your reputation. We gave you our heart, our daughter, and you tossed it aside."

Her voice quivered. "Do you think she wanted this marriage? You wonder why she agreed to it when she so clearly refused? It wasn't because she changed her mind. It was because I forced her."

Mo Yichen's eyes widened.

"I blackmailed her. I put a knife to my own throat and told her I'd do it if she didn't promise. And she did promise. With the knife in her trembling hands, she promised… while bleeding."

Madam Xia's tears fell, but her voice did not rise. It was barely more than a whisper but it thundered in Mo Yichen's ears.

"She is not like you," she said. "She honors her promises. You don't."

And in that moment, he remembered Ruyan saying, "Yours was just inheritance. Mine was life."

So, it was life. Her marriage to him wasn't an ambition. It was a sacrifice.

"Mr. Xia, Mrs. Xia," Mo Yichen said slowly, his voice raw, "I won't ask for your forgiveness. I don't deserve it. You're right to blame me. I should have stayed with her. I should have brought her with me. There were so many choices and I picked the only wrong one."

He bowed his head. "But please… just let me stay. I don't want to leave her. I can't do that."

"Suit yourself," Mr. Xia said in a dismissive tone. Two bodyguards moved to stand guard at her door, and Mo Yichen once again sat back on the cold bench.

It was past 7 a.m. when Lee Jian asked him to come along. He didn't know how Lee had managed to persuade the guards; he was too zoned out to pay attention, but somehow, they turned a blind eye, and he walked into her room.

The room smelled of sanitizer and roses. Roses… like her.

The curtains were drawn, and the light filtering through fell gently on her pale, serene face, making her look ethereal. He walked toward her slowly, his throat tightening. She shouldn't have this much control over his emotions. She shouldn't matter this much. And yet, he didn't know why this was happening to him.

Very cautiously, he rearranged her blanket. Feeling its soft texture, he smiled involuntarily. Fussy, he thought. The warmth of affection that flared within him startled him. He was shocked by his own thoughts.

Then, quietly, he sat beside her.

"I know we didn't start on the right foot," he began, his voice low and unsteady. "Even if it wasn't my choice, whatever this was, you became my responsibility. And I've never been irresponsible." He exhaled shakily. "You have to believe me, Xia Ruyan. It wasn't dishonesty… it was an accident. So please… blame me if you must, hate me if it helps, but wake up. Wake up so we can start over from the very beginning. So I can make it right."

He didn't reach for her. He remembered she didn't like being touched. So, he sat still, holding back every instinct that wanted to brush the hair from her face or take her hand. If he was going to care for her, he would do it right, on her terms.

Then something shifted. Her eyelids fluttered. Her lips parted slightly, as if caught between sleep and waking. She murmured something in a voice so faint it barely registered.

He leaned in, his heart suddenly racing. Her breath was shallow. Was she dreaming? Was it a nightmare? He thought.

He called softly, almost afraid to break the fragile moment, then her eyes opened.

She looked directly at him, gaze unfocused and hazy with confusion. Her lips moved, cracked and dry, her voice barely a whisper.

"Bro…"

His heart sank. Not him.

She hadn't meant him. She was calling for someone else. It was never him. And for a moment, he sat frozen in the silence, the ache in his chest louder than anything else in the room.