The snow fell harder as the sun disappeared behind thick gray clouds. The wind howled around the small clinic building like it was protesting the lives being rewritten inside. Jennie was the first to leave. She didn't say goodbye. After her argument with Red and the quiet look from Alexander, she picked up her designer coat, slammed the car door, and drove off toward the city, tires spinning slightly in the snow.
Red stood near the door, watching her car fade into the white storm. He turned back inside, brushing flakes from his shoulders. "We can't leave tonight," he muttered. "Roads are dangerous. Visibility's crap."
Alexander, seated on the only couch, didn't reply. His eyes were on the low flames in the old kerosene heater, but his mind was elsewhere.
Debby stayed quiet, moving between the clinic and her father's room, preparing hot water, checking the firewood. She didn't have the conscience to kick them out into the snow, not after everything. But she didn't speak to Alexander either. Not after what happened.
Later that evening, Red finally broke the silence.
"You should know what really happened," he said, pulling up a chair. "You were nearly dead when we got here. She saved you. Two weeks, she didn't sleep properly. Gave you blood. Cleaned your wounds. Managed a fever spike. All alone."
Alexander didn't look at him. "And she wants what in return?"
"Nothing," Red snapped. "Not everyone is after your money."
Alexander turned to him, eyes cold. "Every girl I've met who tried to help me wanted something. Fame, a name, marriage. Some clout. She's no different."
"You're wrong."
But Alexander shook his head. "Then explain why I didn't react when she touched me."
Red hesitated.
"That has never happened before," Alexander muttered. "Not with any woman."
The wind rattled the window. In the next room, Debby stirred something over the small stove. Her father was groaning again. The pain was back. The herbs weren't helping anymore.
A sharp cry broke the silence. "Daddy!"
Red and Alexander rushed in. Debby was kneeling beside the old man, who had curled into himself, his fingers trembling. His face was pale, soaked in sweat.
"His painkillers aren't working," she said through gritted teeth. "It's the cancer. It's spreading faster than I thought."
She turned to the shelves and started pulling out older medications, expired bottles, anything that might numb the pain for a few hours.
Red stood back, helpless.
Alexander didn't move. His hands were in his pockets, eyes fixed on the scene like it wasn't real. Like he was above it.
Then he spoke.
"Marry me."
Debby froze.
She turned around slowly. "What?"
He didn't blink. "Marry me. Right now. I'll take your father to the best hospital in the country. Private cancer ward. Immediate admission."
Her chest rose and fell quickly, her fingers gripping the side of the bed.
"Are you serious?" Red barked. "Now?"
"She needs something. I need something," Alexander said flatly.
Debby looked at her father. He was groaning, barely aware of anything.
"You think I'll agree just because you dangle hope in front of me?" she hissed.
"You don't have a choice," Alexander replied. "Your dad's dying. I'm giving you an out."
She glared at him. Then slowly, she nodded. "Fine. I'll marry you."
Alexander turned to leave the room.
"Wait," she said.
He looked back.
"I want one more thing," she said.
He raised a brow. "What?"
Debby straightened her back, voice firm.
"My doctor's license. Get it back. Clear my name."
Alexander studied her for a long second. Then, he gave the smallest nod.
"Done."
Outside, the snow continued to fall. And somewhere between the groan of a sick man and the silence of a broken girl, a deal was sealed that would change everything.