Husband By Error

"Watch where you're going next time."

The voice was deep, cold, and commanding.

Isabella looked up, frowning-just in time to see the back of a tall man in an elegant black suit walking away without even glancing at her.

"What? You should be the one watching where you're going!" she snapped, but he had already vanished into the crowd.

She sighed heavily. "Great. Just great. Can this day get any worse?" she muttered under her breath.

Bending down, she gathered the scattered documents across the lobby floor. "I stayed up all night organizing these files for today's presentation, and now this happens..." she grumbled, brushing the dust off a folder.

Unbelievable. He bumps into me, and I get the blame.

Once everything was back in order, Isabella hurried inside, clocked in, and half-ran up the stairs toward the second-floor meeting room.

The moment she opened the door, her heart stopped. Everyone was already seated-her manager, Mr. Luiz, and several important clients.

"Good morning. I'm terribly sorry for being a little late," she said politely, bowing slightly to hide her panic.

"Why not just come at noon while you're at it?"

That cold voice again. Isabella froze.

She turned toward the speaker-and her blood ran cold.

No way. It was him.

The man from the lobby.

Oh, God. Don't tell me he's our client?!

Her face drained of color. She bit her lower lip unconsciously.

"Isabella, why are you still standing there? Sit down. The meeting's about to start," Mr. Luiz reminded her.

"This is Mr. Maximilian Martez, our client. He's entrusted our firm to design the cover for his new product line."

Maximilian Martez. So that's his name.

Isabella forced a polite smile and quickly sat down. Inside, she was silently praying he wouldn't recognize her. But luck clearly wasn't on her side.

"Do you always behave like this?" Maximilian's cold voice cut through the air.

"I-excuse me?" she stammered.

"What time did you leave home this morning?"

"Seven twenty, sir."

He arched a brow. "So you gave yourself ten minutes to get here? If you worked for me, I would've fired you already."

Isabella swallowed hard. You've got to be kidding me. I was late because of you!

"I'm sorry, sir. There was a small... accident downstairs."

"Oh? So now you're making excuses?" Maximilian replied flatly. "If everyone used that logic, the world would stop working."

Sharp tongue, perfect suit. What a delightful combination, Isabella cursed silently, lowering her head further.

Mr. Luiz quickly stepped in. "Mr. Martez, we apologize for the delay. Shall we continue with the presentation?"

Maximilian was silent for a moment before answering coolly, "Go ahead. Out of respect for you, I'll give you twenty minutes."

"Thank you, Mr. Martez."

Isabella inhaled deeply. Twenty minutes? Fine. Watch me impress you.

She turned on the projector and began her presentation. Her voice trembled at first, but soon steadied. She explained each of the seven design concepts confidently.

When she finished, the room fell silent.

Then Mr. Luiz clapped softly. "Excellent work, Isabella."

Others nodded in agreement-except Maximilian, who leaned back in his chair, unreadable.

"Impressive," he murmured. "Smart ideas... but still, poor discipline."

Isabella forced a polite smile. Perfect man, irritating personality.

That evening, after hours of overtime, she stretched her arms and sighed. "Finally done..."

She packed her things quickly, hoping to catch the last bus home.

Her phone buzzed.

Samantha:

Hey, I stopped by your place to return your book, but you're not home yet?

Isabella:

You could've told me! I'm on my way now.

Samantha:

Had to run before Mom tries to set me up again. Your book's on your desk. Let's hang out this weekend!

Isabella smiled faintly. Her mother had been hinting about marriage a lot lately. The problem was-she didn't even have a boyfriend.

After her father's death four years ago, she had been the one supporting her ailing mother.

Ten minutes later, she arrived home.

"I'm home..."

The gate wasn't locked. Strange.

When she entered, she found her mother sitting with a guest-Mrs. Martez.

"Oh, you're home," her mother greeted warmly.

"Yes, Mom." Isabella put her bag down and smiled. "Aunt Martez, it's been a while. How have you been?"

The older woman chuckled softly. "I'm well, dear. I've just been busy. My younger son recently came back from overseas. He'll be settling here for good."

"Oh, Miguel's back?" Isabella smiled. "That's wonderful. You won't be lonely anymore."

They laughed together for a while-until Mrs. Martez's expression softened.

"Isabella," she began gently. "I didn't just come to catch up. There's something important I want to talk about."

Isabella turned to her, curious. The woman hesitated, glancing at her mother, then back at her.

"My dear, your mother and I have talked about this for quite some time. We... we'd like to see you married-to Miguel."

The word married echoed in Isabella's mind.

Her heart skipped a beat. She looked at the two women she loved most, hoping one of them would laugh and tell her it was a joke. But no-there were only expectant eyes and gentle smiles.

"Married?" she whispered.

Both women nodded in unison.

"But, Aunt... surely Miguel already has someone in his life?" she asked carefully.

Mrs. Martez shook her head with a fond smile. "Not yet. Miguel and his brother are both buried in work. I just want to see one of them settle down and find happiness. You and Miguel used to be close-it won't be hard for you two to reconnect."

Used to be... ten years ago.

Isabella almost laughed, if only it didn't hurt so much.

"Aunt-" she began, but before she could continue, Mrs. Martez clasped her mother's hands in excitement.

"Oh, Adeline, we'll soon be in-laws!" she exclaimed with delight.

The two women began chattering joyfully, already imagining a future that Isabella had never agreed to. Neither of them seemed to notice her uneasy silence.

Finally, she spoke up, her voice calm but firm. "Aunt-Mom, please stop and listen to me."

Both women turned toward her, surprised by the seriousness in her tone.

Isabella took a quiet breath, lowering her gaze for a moment before meeting their eyes again-steady and composed.

"I'm truly grateful that you and Mom care about me," she began softly. "But... I don't think marriage is something that should be arranged like this."

Her mother blinked, taken aback. "Isabella-"

"I mean no disrespect," Isabella continued, her tone polite but unwavering. "Miguel is a wonderful man, and I'll always think of him as a good friend. But that's all. I'm not ready for marriage right now-and I don't want to agree to something I can't sincerely accept."

Mrs. Martez's smile faltered slightly, though her voice remained kind. "Oh, dear, we didn't mean to pressure you. We just thought it might make both our families happy."

"I know," Isabella replied gently, "and I truly appreciate that. But please forgive me for declining."

A brief silence followed. Then Isabella stood, offering them both a small, respectful smile. "If you'll excuse me, I've had a long day. I think I'll rest for a while."

Her mother blinked in surprise. "Isabella-"

But Isabella only nodded politely and turned away. Her mother frowned, disappointment flickering across her face, yet Isabella didn't argue further. She walked upstairs quietly, each step light but firm.

When her door finally closed behind her, she leaned back against it and exhaled slowly.

Her heart was heavy, but her conscience was clear.

She whispered to herself, "I did the right thing."

Downstairs, silence lingered for a few moments before Mrs. Hernando spoke, her tone apologetic.

"I'm so sorry, Anna. I didn't expect her to react that way. She's always been such an obedient girl."

Mrs. Martez waved her hand gently. "Don't apologize. She's grown up. I suppose it's natural for her to have her own thoughts now."

"Yes, but still... I hope she didn't offend you," Mrs. Hernando said quickly, glancing toward the stairs with worry.

Mrs. Martez gave a faint smile, though her eyes carried a trace of disappointment. "No offense taken," she said kindly. "Perhaps she just needs some time to think. They haven't seen each other in years-who knows? Maybe they'll like each other once they meet again. I'll speak with Miguel about it later."

When she left that evening, the house fell into a heavy silence.

Mrs. Hernando sat alone in the quiet living room, her fingers absently twisting the hem of her sleeve. A soft sigh escaped her lips.

"She used to agree to everything I said," she murmured. "When did she start drifting away from me?"

It was Sunday morning.

Isabella had just finished jogging in the park and was walking home along the quiet street. Her thoughts wandered aimlessly, her gaze distant. Sweat clung to her skin, and her throat felt dry. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the heaviness in her chest.

Suddenly, a familiar voice snapped her out of her daze.

"Isabella!"

Startled, she looked up and saw a young woman standing in front of her. Samantha-her best friend since high school and college.

"Oh my God, Samantha! You scared me!" Isabella exclaimed, pressing a hand to her chest.

Samantha chuckled softly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to. You were walking like you were miles away, so I thought I'd wake you up a little."

Isabella sighed, brushing away the strands of hair stuck to her damp forehead.

"Yeah... maybe I was just overthinking," she muttered.

"Are you okay? You seem a little out of it," Samantha asked, tilting her head in concern.

"I'm fine, really. By the way, what are you doing here?" Isabella asked.

"I was on my way to your house! We planned to go out today, remember?" Samantha narrowed her eyes playfully. "Don't tell me you forgot."

"Ahh, I did! I completely forgot. I'm so sorry," Isabella said with an apologetic smile.

"I knew it," Samantha teased with a grin. "But what on earth made you forget your date with me?"

"Ah..." Isabella exhaled, feeling helpless. "You know, my mom tried to match me with Aunt Martez's son-Miguel."

"Wait, Miguel? The guy you told me about ages ago? Your childhood sweetheart, right?" Samantha teased, grinning.

"Nooo-he's not my childhood sweetheart!" Isabella protested, laughing as her cheeks flushed pink. "He's just a friend."

"Alright, alright-a friend," Samantha said, laughing. "But honestly, if your mom's that worried, why not consider it? You're not seeing anyone, after all."

The teasing tone was light, but the words hit heavier than Isabella expected. She sighed, her smile fading. "I don't even know how he is now. We haven't seen each other in ten years."

"Ooh... so you're worried he turned out ugly, huh?" Samantha laughed.

"No!" Isabella frowned, half annoyed, half amused. "Samantha, can you be serious for once? God!"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," Samantha said quickly, raising her hands in mock surrender before softening her tone. "But seriously, I think you should at least consider it. He's from a good family, you know. As your best friend, I'll support whatever you decide."

"You're the best, you know that?" Isabella said, nudging her shoulder. "Come on, let's go home first. I need to get ready and tell my mom."

"Fine by me," Samantha said cheerfully, letting Isabella grab her hand as they walked side by side.

The two friends chatted and laughed all the way home, just like they always did. Isabella didn't have many close friends-Samantha was more like a sister, someone she could truly rely on. Their bond was unshakable.

Neither of them knew how quickly that bright morning was about to turn dark.

When they arrived at the house, Isabella twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open.

"I'm home, Mom!" she called brightly.

No answer.

She frowned. The house felt unusually quiet. Then she heard it-a faint, wheezing cough from deeper inside. Her heart dropped.

"Mom?" she called again, her voice trembling as she hurried toward the sound.

The coughing grew louder with every step.

Samantha followed close behind, her face etched with concern as they rushed inside.

They found Mrs. Hernando slumped on the couch, her face pale as paper. She clutched her chest, coughing so violently that her whole body shook.

"Mom!" Isabella cried, rushing forward.

She knelt beside her mother, gently holding her shoulders. "Mom, are you okay? Please, talk to me!"

Mrs. Hernando tried to speak, but her voice came out weak and trembling.

"I–I'm fine, dear... just a little dizzy..."

Before she could finish, a violent fit of coughing overtook her.

"Sam, call an ambulance!" Isabella shouted.

Samantha's hands shook as she fumbled for her phone and dialed emergency services. Isabella's heart pounded as she supported her mother, trying to steady her breathing, tears stinging her eyes.

Moments later, sirens wailed in the distance, slicing through the quiet afternoon. Paramedics rushed in, swiftly lifting Mrs. Hernando onto a stretcher. Isabella clung to her mother's hand until the last possible moment before following the stretcher into the ambulance.

At the hospital, time blurred into a haze. Isabella sat outside the emergency room, still in her damp joggers, her hands clasped tightly together. Samantha sat beside her, silent but steady.

After what felt like hours, the doctor finally emerged, his expression grave.

"Are you her daughter?"

"Yes," Isabella said quickly, standing. "How's my mother?"

"She's stable for now," he replied, removing his glasses, "but her heart condition has worsened. She's been under a lot of stress. Any emotional strain could be dangerous. We'll need to monitor her closely for the next few days."

The words hit Isabella like a bucket of ice water. She'd known her mother was unwell-but not this serious.

Samantha reached over and squeezed her hand. "She's going to be okay, Bella. Your mom's strong."

Isabella nodded faintly, but guilt gnawed at her chest.

Was this because of me? Because I upset her earlier?

Later that afternoon, Mrs. Martez arrived with a basket of fruit and worry written across her face. Isabella was seated beside her mother's bed, watching the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest.

"My dear," Mrs. Martez said softly, placing a gentle hand on Isabella's shoulder. "I came as soon as I heard."

"Thank you, Aunt Martez," Isabella murmured. Her voice was hoarse, her eyes rimmed red.

A faint whisper came from the bed. "Bella..."

Isabella's head snapped toward her mother. "Mom?" She leaned forward, taking her hand. "I'm here."

"Adeline," Mrs. Martez greeted warmly. "How are you feeling?"

Mrs. Hernando turned her head slightly and smiled weakly. "Better now. Thank you for coming, Anna."

"I was worried when I heard," Mrs. Martez said, setting the basket down. "You need to take it easy for a while."

Mrs. Hernando's expression grew thoughtful. After a pause, she reached for her daughter's hand.

"Bella," she said softly, "there's something I want to talk to you about."

Isabella's brows knitted. "What is it, Mom?"

Her mother's frail fingers tightened around hers. "Bella, I... I hope you'll consider marrying soon. I'm afraid that if one day I'm gone-"

"Mom, please," Isabella interrupted quickly, her voice breaking. "Don't say that."

Mrs. Hernando gave a weak smile and brushed a tear from her daughter's cheek. Slowly, she sat up, cupping Isabella's face in her trembling hands.

"My dear, no one knows how long we have in this world. I just worry... if I'm no longer here and you're still alone, who will protect you? Who will take care of you?"

The words pierced through Isabella like a blade. She leaned forward, wrapping her mother in her arms, tears spilling freely.

"I'll be fine, Mom... I promise. Please don't talk like that."

Mrs. Hernando stroked her hair gently. "I know you don't like the idea of an arranged marriage, Bella, but if something happens to me, I'd rest easier knowing you're not alone. Miguel's a good man, from a kind family. It would give me peace to see you settled... happy... and cared for."

"Mom..." Isabella whispered, torn between sorrow and disbelief.

Her mother squeezed her hand lightly. "I'm not forcing you, sweetheart. Just think about it. Treat it as my wish-not an obligation, but something from a mother's heart."

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was the steady beep of the heart monitor. Isabella lowered her gaze, her mother's words echoing softly in her mind.

Treat it as my wish.

"Bella, don't you pity your mother?" Mrs. Martez added gently. "She only wants to see you married before she's too old to attend your wedding."

Isabella bit her lip, a knot forming in her throat.

Like Sam said... maybe I should just agree. I don't have a boyfriend, and if this makes Mom happy... what harm could it do?

"Does Miguel know about this?" she finally asked.

"Don't worry," Mrs. Martez said with a reassuring smile. "He'll listen to me."

Isabella exhaled slowly. "All right, Aunt. But please, talk to Miguel first. I don't want something this important decided without his say."

Then she turned to her mother, forcing a faint smile. "If this makes you happy, Mom... I'll try."

Her mother's eyes brightened with relief. Mrs. Martez smiled too, the tension in the room finally softening.

The three women shared a quiet laugh-fragile but genuine. For the first time all day, the heaviness lifted.

When the visit ended, Isabella walked Mrs. Martez to the hospital lobby and waited until her car disappeared around the corner.

Ten years... I barely even remember what Miguel looks like. But if this makes Mom happy... maybe that's enough.