I assisted a disabled man in bed on our wedding night after my mother-in-law made me marry him, but a simple tumble irrevocably altered our lives.
My mother-in-law, Madame Renard, had been in charge of my chilly home ever since my father passed away. She was in charge of everything, including the finances, choices, and my own fate. I came to the realization that my life was no longer mine the day she informed me that she had discovered “an excellent opportunity.”
Anatole Beaumont, the heir to a prosperous Burgundian family, was the name of my future husband. He was once a successful businessman who had lost everything due to an accident that left him wheelchair-bound. He was now living alone in the family mansion after being deserted by his fiancée and forgotten by everyone. And I, a poor, unlucky girl, had ended up as “the invalid’s wife.”
It was a quiet, almost funereal wedding. No smiles, no music. My approach to this stranger was accompanied only by the whispers of the maids and withered lilies. Anatole stayed far away, frozen behind a face I couldn’t read.
My mother-in-law whispered one final suggestion as we arrived at the mansion:
“Talk as little as you can. Don’t cause any trouble.
Then she was gone.
The mansion was magnificent but deserted, filled with dense quiet and austere pictures. I was shown to a spacious room with a view of the garden by Anatole.
— You remain here as of now. You own your life. I won’t get involved.
nor “wife,” nor “Mrs. “Just a tolerated presence, Beaumont.”
The days that followed became monotonous. He would read for hours while I meandered through the corridors, attempting to make sense of this silent, stone home. At night, I heard the continuous sound of his wheelchair: click… click… click. The rhythm of my new life was that sound.
The wedding night then arrived.
He stood close to the bed, staring blankly.
— You don’t have to pity me, he added.
I ventured close. Maybe because our loneliness recognized one another, maybe out of compassion.
Allow me to assist you in lying down.
He accepted. I passed his arm over my neck, but my foot slipped on the mat. Together, we fell heavily.
I froze after attempting to stand up.
Because under the blanket… everything I saw chilled my blood…
There was a slight twitch beneath the heavy blanket.
At first, I assumed I had dreamed… until I saw his legs twitch.
His legs – the ones everyone had deemed inert for months.
I couldn’t contain my surprise as I whispered, “You… you just moved.”
As though caught red-handed, Anatole went pale. His puzzled eyes sought an escape.
Don’t tell anyone, please. Not them. Not now.
A calm worry raced through me. Why this secret? What’s causing this near-animal fear?
He inhaled deeply before revealing the facts in a broken voice:
— I’ve never been totally immobilized. I’ve been trying to walk again in secret. However, my family won’t tell anyone.
— Why? With a tight heart, I asked.
Bitterness weighed heavily in his voice.
They have complete power over my life, my possessions, and my name as long as I am “disabled.” Their defeat would be my healing.
I unexpectedly found a kindred prisoner of misfortune in his confession: me stuck in an imposed position, him trapped by his own blood. Two lives influenced by other people.
While I was tending to a cut on his arm that evening, he whispered, surprisingly softly:
– You ought never to have been included in their plots.
With a shuddering smile, I answered:
Perhaps this tumble was an opportunity rather than a conclusion. Evidence that you can get back up.
His genuine yet quiet chuckle reverberated like a breath of fresh air.
We began sharing a moon-sealed secret after that: each night, I assisted him in retraining his steps, helping him when he stumbled and comforting him when he felt discouraged.
Then came that bright July morning when he stood by himself. Standing, sure, but trembling.
I released the tears I had suppressed for too long.
He said simply, “It’s thanks to you.”
It was the final day of our submission and the first day of our alliance.
When the whole Beaumont family saw Anatole approaching them in the reception hall, they immediately fell silent in fear. That action represented the transfer of ownership of an empire as well as the return of a man.
And I realized that sometimes a fall is just a launching pad for freedom when his hand closed around mine.
