When the Smoke Revealed His Heart

I knew Alistair had never loved me.

During our four years at the University of Washington, everyone knew I had a crush on him.

Unfortunately, he only had eyes for his goddess, Viveca. He never even knew I existed.

Before graduation, Viveca accepted her family’s arrangements and moved abroad.

The day she left, Alistair got blind drunk and came to find me.

He held me, his eyes hazy, and called out Viveca’s name, over and over again.

He thought I was her. Yet, I was so desperate for him that I sank into the chaotic passion of that night. He took me roughly, the mix of sweat and alcohol feeling utterly surreal.

It was a mistake. When I woke up the next day, he threw my clothes on the floor and told me to get out, his face grim.

I thought it was just a brief, foolish encounter, but I ended up pregnant.

For the sake of the child, Alistair hastily registered our marriage at City Hall, and I had our son. He named him Asher.

He didn't love me at all. That’s why he turned a blind eye to Viveca’s constant provocations after she returned, even letting her come and go from our home as she pleased and take Asher with her.

Even when I desperately sought an explanation from Alistair, Asher would side with him.

He would say, “Mom, you’re not as pretty or as fun as Auntie Viveca. Why don’t you just get lost?”

“That way, Dad can be with her, and Auntie Viveca can be my mom.”

My eyelids grew heavier, and my consciousness began to drift away.

I collapsed to the floor, without the strength to even stand.

Just then, a small, thin figure emerged from the suffocating smoke.

“Ma’am, do you need help?” a timid voice asked.

I forced my eyes open and saw a little girl about my son’s age.

She was covered in soot and grime, but her eyes shone astonishingly bright in the thick smoke.

Her tiny body held a surprising strength as she helped me to my feet. Then, step by agonizing step, we struggled our way out.

Every step toward the exit felt like walking on knives, and I wanted to give up several times.

But that little girl held onto me tightly, refusing to let go.

The moment we escaped the fire, she collapsed to her knees in exhaustion. Despite this, the first thing she did was cry out hoarsely for help for me.

I held her in my arms and wept uncontrollably.

On the way to Harborview Medical Center, I learned her name was Ellie and that her grandfather had died in the fire.

In the ambulance, she was overwhelmed by immense grief, but she just covered her face with her small hands.

She tried to stifle her sobs, as if afraid of disturbing the people around her.

An indescribable ache bloomed in my chest for her. I took her hand and asked if she would let me adopt her.

Her eyes lit up for a second, but she still shook her head. She said she didn’t want to be a burden to me.

I smiled bitterly and told her that I was already a complete mess myself. So, the last thing I was afraid of was another burden.

I promised her that as soon as I was discharged from the hospital, we would go and sort out the adoption papers.

I stayed in the hospital for three days. Due to severe smoke inhalation, I lost my baby.

During this time, Alistair and Asher never visited. They didn’t even call.

They were in the room next door, busy taking care of Viveca.

My only comfort was the little girl who had saved me, Ellie.

She told me her father had named her Ellie Peterson. If I were to adopt her, I could change her name.

I stroked her head and shook mine. “I’d love to adopt you, but you don’t need to change your name. You can be whoever you want to be, without having to compromise for anyone, okay?”

Ellie’s eyes brightened with joy. She nuzzled my arm affectionately and thanked me in a sweet voice.

It had been a long time since I had heard those two words.

Alistair and Asher took everything I did for granted; they never thanked me.

Moved, I hugged her tight and felt a real smile spread across my face for the first time in ages.

It was then that I ran into Alistair and Asher in the hallway.

I was still recovering from the miscarriage, so Ellie was carefully helping me back to my room.

We rounded a corner and came face to face with Alistair and Asher, who were supporting Viveca.

They were talking and laughing. The three of them looked like a perfect little family.

I thought my heart would break, but surprisingly, I only felt a faint ripple of emotion.

So, I quietly walked past them.

However, Alistair couldn’t help but call out to me.

I turned around and saw a flicker of concern in his eyes.

“Marceline, are you hurt?” he asked.

I wanted to laugh.

Of course not. I just had an asthma attack and nearly suffocated in the smoke.

My head was stitched and wrapped in gauze, but he didn’t seem to notice.

Moreover, I had miscarried. Perhaps that child was lucky, spared from a life with such a cold-blooded father and brother.

Seeing my silence, he stared at my flat stomach.

Then, he let out a mocking sneer. “Marceline, I actually thought you were pregnant. It seems Viveca was right. You were just being selfish, trying to trick me into saving you first.”

Viveca, by his side, stared at me with venom in her eyes.