Chapter 3
Aunt Clara and my uncle argued all night. I hid in my room, listening in silence, my decision already made.
The next day, I told Aunt Clara that I was willing to take Liam’s place and marry into the Sterling family. “Liam is right. You and Uncle have been so good to me. Now it’s my turn to repay you.”
Aunt Clara’s eyes welled up. She took my hand, wanting to say something, but ultimately, no words came out.
Because Mira had special needs, the wedding was very simple. I thought her willingness to marry meant she was ready to share her life with me. But I was wrong.
On our wedding night, the moment I stepped into the bridal room, her face hardened. “Get out!”
“This is my room,” I protested.
“You are not allowed to sleep here.”
I tried to reason with her, to explain the meaning of marriage. But she wouldn’t listen. Instead, she tore down all the red wedding decorations plastered around the room. I was filled with helplessness and had no choice but to turn around and leave in shame.
My mother-in-law, seeing the scene, sighed deeply and called me into her study. She told me that Mira wasn’t inherently bad, just reclusive and unwilling to interact with people. Since I had married her, I had to take on the responsibility of caring for my wife. She believed that if I was devoted enough, I could definitely help Mira open up her heart and accept me. I decided to try.
Caring for someone with autism was both mentally and physically exhausting. Every day, I personally cooked her three meals, reminded her to take her medication on time, and accompanied her to her follow-up appointments. To understand her more thoroughly, I bought every book I could find on autism, immersing myself in them until the early hours of the morning.
My efforts gradually yielded results. Mira slowly adapted to my presence, no longer resisting me as she had at first. I was allowed to ride in the same car as her, or sit at the same table for meals. Knowing I liked fruit, she would meticulously arrange a beautiful fruit platter for me with her own hands. I had low immunity and often caught colds or fevers, so she would bring me ginger tea and force me to drink it.
Time passed quickly, and the seasons flowed by. We both grew accustomed to this routine. The only dissatisfied person was my mother-in-law. Every few days, she would call me for a talk, her sole purpose being to pressure me to have a baby. Forced into a corner, I had to be direct. Mira was completely unaware of intimate matters, and she wouldn’t even let me sleep in the same bed as her.
My mother-in-law, exasperated, sent Mira to the hospital for a check-up. The doctor said there was nothing wrong with her physically; she just couldn’t overcome her psychological barriers and accept such intimacy. “It all comes back to you,” my mother-in-law fumed. “Can’t you find a way to make her fall in love with you?!”
I was lost and bewildered. What was love? I didn’t even know myself, let alone Mira.