The One

Chapter 5

Later in the morning, Finnigan left his room and wanted to clean up the mess he had made the night before. His hands stung a bit. He had never been that violent before, except at work. He was hurt last night, especially after seeing a photo of a man kissing Brielle. He was shocked that the house had already been cleaned, guessing that Brielle might have felt guilty and helped him. Despite not feeling well, he had to go to work. While returning to his room to get ready for work, he noticed Brielle sleeping on the living room sofa. He went over to her and knelt beside the couch. "Honey... wake up. It's morning already. Don't you have to go to work?" he said softly, but Brielle replied, "No. I am not feeling well," and closed her eyes. Finnigan placed his hand on her forehead and felt the heat. "Okay. Wake up. We need to go to the clinic," he insisted. But Brielle, being stubborn, said, "I don't need a doctor. I am fine. I know my condition. I need some sleep."

Finnigan sighed concernedly, determined not to give up on rousing her from her slumber. He couldn't bear the thought of her condition worsening due to her high fever. "Please, don't be stubborn. I can't bear to see your fever escalate," he said, trying to reassure her, hoping she would find the strength to get up and see the doctor. Brielle slowly opened her eyes and reluctantly pulled herself up. "Don't coerce me into doing something I don't want to do!" she growled, her voice laced with frustration. She rose from the sofa and exclaimed, "It's bad enough that I'm compelled to be your wife!" before storming to her room. Finnigan felt as though his heart had been pierced by lightning. He had never coerced her into marrying him. He had never coerced her into treating him as a husband, even after they had tied the knot. Finnigan, feeling concerned for Brielle, quickly arose and reached out to his captain to explain that he would again be absent from work due to Brielle's unwell condition. Upon entering the kitchen, he opened the refrigerator in search of suitable ingredients to prepare a comforting breakfast for her. Casting his eyes upon the chicken and assorted vegetables, he resolved to concoct a nourishing chicken soup reminiscent of the healing elixir his mother would lovingly prepare during illness.

As he finished preparing the chicken soup, he left it in the kitchen, not wanting to disturb Brielle's much-needed rest. He had no desire to upset her further by waking her. Moving to the living room, he switched on the television and settled onto the sofa. Although his eyes were fixed on the screen, his thoughts drifted elsewhere. Her voice echoed in his mind, leaving him pondering why she harboured such hatred towards him and why she couldn't embrace him as her husband. Before long, exhaustion overtook him, and he, too, succumbed to sleep despite his fatigue and illness, knowing that he needed to be there for Brielle in her sickness.

Brielle roused from her slumber a couple of hours later, her mind groggy and slow to register her surroundings. Still bleary-eyed, she went to the bathroom for a refreshing soak. Once dressed, she entered the room and was greeted by the tantalizing aroma of chicken soup wafting from the kitchen. A wave of confusion washed over her - had Finnigan prepared the soup before leaving for work? Her bewilderment deepened when she found Finnigan fast asleep on the living room couch. Disregarding his presence, she made a beeline for the kitchen, where she reheated the soup and portioned some into a bowl for herself. Seated at the dining table, she savoured the first spoonful and was taken aback by the pleasing flavour. "Hmmm... he's not a bad cook," she mused. Mesmerized by the savoury broth, she continued to indulge until her bowl was empty, at which point memories of the previous night came flooding back. A sudden urgency took her to confront Finnigan about how he came to know her whereabouts. The thought of him potentially hiring someone to surveil her was unsettling, especially since she prided herself on never intruding on his affairs.

Finnigan was jolted awake when he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. Looking around, he saw Brielle standing before him. "I'm sorry, I fell asleep. I made your chicken soup. I can warm it up, and you can eat," he offered, preparing to stand up. Brielle halted him and said, "No need. I already ate it," before sitting across from him. "Oh? Okay. Are you feeling better?" he inquired, with concern in his eyes. "I'm fine, but something is bothering me," she replied, her gaze distant and cold. Finnigan's brow furrowed in worry. Is she sick despite claiming to be okay?

"Are you feeling okay? Should we schedule a doctor's appointment?" he asked with evident concern. "It's not a health issue. I'm genuinely fine," she replied, clearly irritated by his ignorance. "Okay, but what do you mean by 'not fine'?" he inquired, his confusion growing. She couldn't help but smirk at his obliviousness. "You're quite the actor," she remarked, crossing her arms. Finnigan's bewilderment only deepened. "Quit having people tail me everywhere I go," she asserted sternly, fixing him with a penetrating gaze to convey the seriousness of her words.

Steve's brow furrowed even more profoundly. Had he sent someone to follow her? "Did someone follow you? I don't know what you mean," he said, hoping to uncover the truth behind her statement. "Stop pretending to be innocent, Steve. Please stop trying to show me how you're such a good husband. I'm not going to fall for that," she said, and Steve sighed softly. "We're only going through with this because of our parents. Nothing else. You're ruining my life. Yes, I have a boyfriend and love him with all my heart. I was just about to introduce him to my parents when they dropped the bomb about this ridiculous marriage." Finnigan's heart ached as her words sank in. "Brielle, please stop," he pleaded, struggling to hold back his tears. "Why don't we talk this through calmly? I want to make things right with you." 

"What? Isn't it true? If you disagree, we can find a better way to handle this. I don't want to feel guilty about the birthday dinner you made last night without telling me," she retorted. 

"I understand, but I want to show my love and appreciation for you. You mean so much to me," Finnigan said softly, hoping to rebuild their connection. Finnigan stood up, his heart pounding with frustration and sadness as he longed to distance himself from the confrontation. He couldn't endure any more of what he anticipated would come next from her. "See! Whenever we are talking, you always do this. Run away!" she accused. He halted and spoke without meeting her gaze. "Because if I don't do that, I might hurt you, and I don't want to do that," he explained, his hand instinctively reaching for his chest as tears trickled down his cheeks. "And just so you know, I never send anyone to follow you. I don't need to do that. I know my limit," he insisted, his voice quivering with emotion as he took a deep breath to steady himself. It felt incredibly stifling in the room at that moment. "I appreciate your honesty. I won't disclose this to your parents, and I won't prevent you from being with him," he exhaled deeply. As tears continued to stream down his cheeks, he gazed at her and offered a faint smile. "He's a very fortunate man. I wish I could be in his place, but it's okay. You have the freedom to make your own choices. I won't stand in your way because I know this marriage would ruin your relationship with him," he said, his voice trembling. "Let me go," Brielle said, staring at him pensively. Her words took Finnigan aback.

The task she was asking him to undertake seemed utterly impossible. Refusing to let her leave, he was willing to endure pain rather than allow her to depart. Moreover, he had solemnized to her father that he would never release her, regardless of the circumstances. "I'm sorry, Brielle. That's the one thing I can't do," he said. Brielle was furious to hear that. She stood up from her seat, her eyes flashing with anger. "Why not? You know I don't love you; deep down, you don't love me. You only do this because of your parents. That's not love, Fin," she said, her voice full of emotion. He shook his head, his expression pained. "This conversation ends here," he said firmly, knowing that if they continued, it wouldn't go well. He was already feeling the dizziness creeping in. "No, it's not! You're being cruel! You have no heart at all!" Her words came out in a scream, followed by tears streaming down her cheeks. His voice was firm as he spoke, "You can say anything to me. But I am not letting you go." As he began to stride toward his room, a sudden dizziness overcame him, and before he could reach it, he fainted.