Faking It With My Billionaire Husband

Fragile threads

The early autumn air was crisp as I made my way to the hospital, the leaves turning golden and red, a reminder that change was inevitable. I welcomed the cool breeze that swept through my hair, bringing with it a sense of clarity I desperately needed. My visits with my mother had become regular, almost a ritual that anchored me amid the chaos of my life with Max. Each time I entered her room, I felt as if I were stepping into two different worlds: one filled with sterile scents and quiet beeping machines, and the other filled with laughter and a growing intimacy with someone I never thought would impact my life so profoundly.

As I walked the hospital corridor, I mentally rehearsed everything I wanted to share with her—the small victories I experienced daily, the job responsibilities I was slowly becoming more confident with, and the developing relationship with Max. But as I approached her room, a familiar knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach. I couldn't help but worry about how she would react, especially when her own health was in such a delicate state.

"Alina, my darling!" her voice broke through my apprehensive thoughts the moment I entered. A faint smile bloomed on her face as she lifted her fragile hand to greet me. "You look wonderful."

"Thanks, Mom," I replied, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "I brought you your favorite—some fresh honey from the farmer’s market. It’s supposed to be the best right now."

She took the jar with trembling fingers, her eyes lighting up. "You always know how to brighten my day."

I settled into the chair beside her bed, the familiar discomfort of hospital visits mingling with warmth. I could see the toll her illness had taken; the joy that usually lit up her face was partially dimmed by exhaustion. Yet, as she dipped her spoon into the honey, savoring each drop, I felt a sense of purpose flood through me.

"Have you been reading any of the books?” I asked, eager to distract her from her struggles. The hospital room felt a little less overwhelming when focused on light-hearted topics.

“Oh, absolutely!” she said between sips of honey. “I finished the mystery you brought me. You would love it; it’s full of unexpected twists. But I wish you could be here to discuss it with me.”

I could feel the ache in my heart deepen at her longing for companionship, the truth that I couldn’t always be there weighing heavily on my thoughts. "Mom, I promise I’ll be back as often as I can. I should be able to spend more time here soon. Max is taking care of a lot of the work."

At the mention of Max, my mother’s brow furrowed slightly. “Alina, sweetheart, he sounds lovely, but I hope he understands how important it is for you to be here.”

I nodded quickly, trying to mask my uncertainty. “He does, and I’ve been balancing it all pretty well.” Yet doubt lingered in the back of my mind. The reality was, my growing feelings for Max were challenging to navigate, especially while my mother’s health remained fragile. I didn’t want to risk losing the precious time we had together.

“Just promise me you won’t forget your own needs in this,” she cautioned gently, her voice steady despite her weakened state. “It’s okay to lean on others, especially during this time.”

The sincerity of her words hit me, a reminder that I couldn’t be everything for everyone. Despite the connection I was developing with Max, I felt the tether to my mother was still the strongest. "I won’t forget, Mom. I promise."

By the time I left the hospital, the sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the city. As I drove home, I thought about the delicate balance of my life—the love for my mother and the blossoming partnership with Max.

When I entered our penthouse, I found Max in the kitchen, preparing a simple dinner while the soft glow of the overhead lights cast a warm ambiance in the room. The scent of garlic and herbs filled the air, and it struck me how much I cherished these calming moments of normalcy.

“Hey,” I greeted, noticing the way he turned towards me, his face lighting up with a warm smile. “It smells amazing.”

“Thought I’d try my hand at a little cooking. Figured you could use a nice meal after your visit,” he said, motioning to the table set for two.

My heart flickered with appreciation. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“I wanted to,” he replied, crossing the kitchen to take my hand in his. “Tell me how it went?”

I hesitated, still feeling the weight of our conversation hanging in the air. “She’s doing okay… but she keeps worrying about me being pulled in two directions,” I confessed. “I’m trying to keep up with everything—her health, work, and this… with you.”

Max watched me carefully, his expression softening. “You don’t have to do it all alone, Alina. I want to be someone who supports you, not adds to your burdens.”

"I know," I said, biting my lip to suppress my emotions. "It’s just—there’s so much tied up in this. I don’t want to let anyone down. I still feel responsible for my mom, and this is such a strange territory for me.”

He stepped closer, gently tilting my chin upwards to meet his gaze. “You’re navigating through a lot, and it’s completely understandable to feel overwhelmed. But it’s important that you also take care of yourself. You deserve that.”

As he spoke, I felt a flood of warmth wash over me, an affirmation that I wasn’t alone in this chaotic whirlwind. I measured my response, wanting to share my thoughts while treading carefully. “Honestly, I’ve really enjoyed the time we've spent together. You help me breathe a little easier—like I can finally let my guard down.”

“Good,” he said with such sincerity that I felt my worries begin to dissipate. “Let’s figure this out together then. We can take it slow. There’s no rush.”