Once, I overheard Mrs. Eleanor confiding in the family doctor: she had a heart condition and didn’t have much time left. She was afraid that if she left, Michael would be forever lonely. She chose me because she saw I was kind, hardworking, and unambitious; she believed I would stay with Michael and not abandon him because of that flaw.
Knowing the truth, my heart was in turmoil. I used to think I was just a “replacement” in exchange for a villa, but it turned out I was chosen out of love and trust. That day, I told myself: no matter how this marriage turned out, I wouldn’t leave Michael.
One rainy night in the Bay Area, Michael suddenly had a seizure. I panicked and rushed him to UCSF Medical Center. In his coma, he held my hand tightly and whispered,
“If you ever get tired, go. The lake house is compensation. I don’t want you to suffer because of me…”
I burst into tears. Since when had he taken over my heart? I squeezed his hand.
“No matter what happens, I won’t leave. You’re my husband, my family.”
After the crisis, Michael woke up. Seeing me still there, his eyes filled with tears and warmth. We didn’t need a “perfect” marriage. What we had was understanding, sharing, and a calm, lasting love.
The lake house in Lake Tahoe was no longer a “reward,” but a true home. I planted flowers on the porch; Michael set up an easel in the living room. Every night, we sat side by side, listening to the rain fall through the pine forest, talking about our little dreams.
Perhaps happiness isn’t perfection, but rather finding someone who, despite their flaws, chooses to love and stay. And I’ve found that happiness… ever since that shaky wedding night years ago.
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