Her Accidental Husband

Chapter 3 An Intersection of Fate

Rain slicked the city streets, turning the road outside the small bar into a mirror of neon and shadow. Adam had been parked there for nearly an hour, engine idling, watching through the fogged windscreen as Lily sat hunched over the counter inside.

She was hard to miss — the cream coat she wore glowed faintly under the bar’s sign, and her hair, once neatly curled, now clung to her damp cheeks. Each time she lifted her glass, Adam felt something twist painfully in his chest.

He’d told himself a hundred times that night that he wasn’t going to interfere. She deserved space. Time to heal. But watching her drink alone, shoulders trembling, eyes glassy with unshed tears, shredded the last of his restraint.

A week ago, she’d been preparing to marry another man—Leon — arrogant, polished, utterly unworthy of her. Adam had known it, of course. He’d known from the beginning. And yet, he’d stood aside, swallowing his feelings, pretending to be content as “the friend.”

Now, watching her drown herself in alcohol, he realised the line he’d drawn was gone. She’d given everything to someone who’d betrayed her. If she was going to fall apart, he wanted to be the one to catch her — even if she never knew how much of it was by his design.

So he waited.

Rain tapped against the roof of his car, steady and relentless. Through the blurred window, he saw Lily finally push herself off the stool, nearly stumbling as she paid the bartender. Her movements were slow, clumsy. She waved off the man’s concerned words and disappeared through the bar’s doorway into the rain.

Adam’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.

He started the car, following at a cautious distance as she dragged herself along the pavement, weaving unsteadily under the glow of the streetlights. She stopped once outside a closed florist’s, staring blankly into the rain-spattered window as if searching for something she’d lost. Then, with a slight, unsteady movement, she stepped off the curb.

“Bloody hell,” Adam muttered, heart lurching.

His headlights caught her at the last second. Instinct and calculation collided — he slammed the brakes, the tyres screeching as the car fishtailed slightly on the wet road. The vehicle came to a stop just inches from her.

Startled, Lily flinched, losing her balance completely, and she went down hard onto the pavement. Her palms scraped the concrete, blood mixing with rainwater.

Adam was out of the car before the engine stopped humming.

“Lily!”

Her name tore from his throat before he could stop himself. He knelt beside her, his coat soaking instantly, one hand trembling as he checked her pulse. She groaned faintly, her eyes fluttering open — glazed, unfocused.

“Adam?” Her voice was barely a whisper. “What— what are you doing here?”

He swallowed hard. “You stepped into the road. I— I almost hit you. God, Lily, can you hear me?”

Her lips parted, but no real words followed. She looked exhausted, broken, the sharp scent of alcohol clinging to her. Then her eyes rolled back, and she slumped forward.

“Lily!”

He caught her before she hit the ground again, heart hammering. The graze on her arm wasn’t deep, but the sight of blood sent a cold jolt through him. She was breathing, but her pulse was weak, sluggish.

He pressed his phone to his ear, voice shaking as he called emergency services. “Yes, I need an ambulance. A woman’s been hurt — Alderton Road, near the Duke’s Arms. She’s breathing, but she’s unconscious.”

When the dispatcher asked if he was a relative, he hesitated only a moment before saying, “I’m responsible. Please, send someone quickly.”

The minutes that followed stretched endlessly. Rain pelted down harder, plastering his hair to his forehead as he crouched beside her, shielding her face from the downpour with his jacket. Her skin was cold, her breathing shallow. He took her hand and held it tightly, whispering her name over and over like it might somehow keep her tethered to him.

When the ambulance finally arrived, he refused to let go of her hand even as they lifted her onto the stretcher. He followed close behind, soaked to the bone, heart pounding with a mixture of panic and something more profound — something dangerously close to relief.

At the hospital, everything became a blur of white light and hurried motion. Nurses rushed her through double doors. A doctor asked questions that Adam barely processed. He filled out the forms, gave his name and number, and promised to cover any costs.

When the doctor returned half an hour later, the words were a balm. “Just minor abrasions. She’s lucky. Keep her in for observation.” Adam exhaled slowly, the tight knot in his chest finally easing. “Thank you,” he murmured.

When he was allowed to see her, Lily was lying on a narrow hospital bed, her hair damp against the pillow, a faint bandage around her arm. Her breathing was soft, steady now. In sleep, she looked so fragile he almost couldn’t bear it.

He sank into the chair beside her, rubbing a hand over his face. For years, he’d loved her quietly — in glances, in small gestures she never noticed. He’d built her kitchen shelves when her old ones broke, waited for her outside offices after late shifts, and made excuses to stay in her orbit even when she belonged to someone else.

And now here she was, broken and bruised, back within reach — though not by choice.

Adam’s gaze fell on her phone on the bedside table, the screen cracked slightly at the corner. Slowly, he pulled a folded note from his jacket pocket — one he’d written earlier, though he hadn’t known if he’d ever use it.

He hesitated, then placed it beside the phone. The handwriting was neat, deliberate:

Sorry. I’ll take full responsibility. Please get in touch with me when you wake up.

— Adam

He didn’t mention that they were old friends. Didn’t mention that he’d known exactly where she was tonight.

Let her think it was a coincidence.

Let her come to him first.

He stood, taking one last look at her before turning towards the door. As he reached the hallway, the fluorescent light caught the edge of his reflection in the glass — pale, tired eyes shadowed with something unreadable.

He slipped his hands into his pockets and walked out into the rain.

Outside, the city was quiet again.

And somewhere deep in his chest, a single thought took root.

Fate might have opened the door. But from here on out, the next move would be his.