Manhattan, New York
Many years ago...
Stellan Elliot Cartwright, heralded a genius at age eight, always had an answer for everything.
He never came up empty-handed until now.
"What kind of woman will you marry someday, sweetheart?" his mother had asked.
Stellan didn't know.
Even at twelve, girls were not on his radar. Not when he was always holed up in the workshop his father had set up for him after he almost burned down a wing of the house with one of his inventions. He'd known he'd overloaded the circuit but was too far gone to back out.
If he wasn't at the workshop—or in one of his classes (both regular and accelerated ones which have him on track to graduate high school by sixteen), he was hanging out with his best friends. They were starting to talk about girls but their conversations often bored him. If girls were anything like his little sister, Vivienne, he was better off staying away because they were guaranteed to be a handful.
But his mother rarely asked him a serious question—at least in recent history. She was constantly in too much pain to manage.
She was dying.
And she wanted to know what kind of woman he would marry one day, in a future she would not be a part of.
Some people say the spirit of your loved ones can look down from the heavens but Stellan always struggled with notions lacking scientific evidence. So he couldn't rely on that idea being a way for his mother to know later on if he couldn't give her an answer now. And he couldn't let her go without ever having an answer.
Nothing made him more restless than an unanswered question and he couldn't do that to his mother.
She needed rest.
She's been sick for a while now.
She needed peace—not a question burning within her for all of eternity.
So Stellan tried his hardest to answer her.
He tried the most obvious approach—the logical one.
"She will have to be of marriageable age with passable looks and an acceptable level of intelligence," he said, pulling from what he knew of most adult relationships.
People often found partners within their age group. Looks didn't really bother him that much but he understood that a level of physical attraction was necessary to enable sexual relations. It was one of the things that separated humans from the rest of the animal world. He didn't always see intelligence as a non-negotiable requirement for many people but it would have to be for him. He wanted someone he could at least talk to and talking at a socially comfortable level was still somewhat of a challenge for him.
His mother blinked up at him several times from her reclined position on the hospital-grade bed before her ashen face broke into a small, soft smile.
"Those are all well and good but I think there's an even greater requirement you should look for, Stellan," she said, her voice raspy from the exertion of speaking just a handful of words. "Something you should never give up in a bargain."
Stellan paused to consider that. "It's okay if she's not rich. I can take care of that."
Francine laughed—a rare sight these days, and Stellan instantly felt a rush of warmth in his chest. He needed to remember how she was like laughing—no matter how weakly, no matter how seemingly out of place it was coming from someone so bone-thin and fragile. Who knew how many more of these moments he would have with her before she was gone?
"Oh, sweetheart. Money should be your last consideration," she said, her expression sobering. A sad look flitted over her face as she reached out and wrapped his hand with her own. The dry, papery texture of her skin didn't surprise him anymore but the unusual strength in her grip did. "You're fortunate to have that privilege. Don't waste it."
"I wasn't planning on it," he said, a smile quirking one corner of his mouth. Then his tone softened because even he knew the truth of his next words. "Besides, I know that money doesn't make people happy."
There was plenty of money to go around in his family. But that didn't spare them from problems that couldn't be solved by it. It couldn't save marriages. It couldn't find people they've lost. It couldn't buy back the life of the dying.
"Sadly, you're right," his mother said, her chin trembling. "Which is why it's important that you marry the person you can't live without. Someone you love like crazy. Don't settle with what's comfortable, or what's logical."
Stellan scrunched up his nose. "But I like to be logical."
Francine gave his hand another squeeze. "I know you do. But people will always be complicated—even someone as sensible as you. Which means at some point, no matter what logic dictates, we will make complicated decisions."
He couldn't disagree. He was aware that people were not always predictable. Not always rational or logical. That was mostly why he had better luck dealing with numbers and facts. They followed rules and patterns. They always made sense.
"How do I know that I love someone like that? How do I know, without actually testing it in application, that I can't live without her?" he asked because for the life of him, he didn't know the answer.
He knew what caring looked like. His family had plenty of affection to show. But clearly, what his parents had wasn't the love-you-can't-live-without kind of story. They settled for the comfortable; the logical. And he had no other basis. None of his friends' parents were living happily ever after either—at least not that he could easily tell.
Francine gave him a serene smile as if she had every confidence that Stellan would fully understand what she was about to tell him.
"Somehow, you'll just know. You'll realize that life is different. Better. Happier. And you know who makes it that way. The person we can be happiest with is the same one we will be the most devastated living without. It will scare you both and that's not a bad thing."
Stellan took that in for a second before opening his mouth, about to protest that there's no need to be afraid of living without the other person if they've promised to stay.
He took a good look at his mother.
She must've promised to stay when she married his father. She must've promised to stay when she gave birth to him and Vivienne as any parent would to her children.
But she can't stay. No matter how much she wants to.
And so Stellan closed his mouth. He understood.
No matter how good the intention, no matter how adamant the promise, there are no guarantees in love and in life.
Hurt is always part of the equation.
To leave it out is to never get the full sum of the experience. To leave it out is faulty math.
Hurt comes with happiness. It's the bladed edges of a seemingly perfect picture you will cut yourself on at some point.
His mother wasn't just telling him to follow his heart someday. She was teaching him the high cost of doing just that so he won't run from it it when the time came. She, herself, will be among the few people who would bring him pain even if she'd never wanted to.
"Do you understand, Stellan?" Francine asked with a slight break in her voice, her eyes glassy with tears he knew she didn't want him to see.
"I understand." Stellan smiled and kissed the back of his mother's gnarled hand. "It's alright, Mom."
Unable to help himself, he leaned his tall, lanky frame down and pressed a kiss on her forehead. "I love you. I'm still glad to have this with you even if it's all we ever get to have."
He heard her soft sigh.
Her faint I-love-you-too.
She would go.
She would wait for Vivienne to return from the park with Jack and then she would go.
Stellan didn't know this through some intellectual instinct.
He knew it as a child knew, his heart heavy while he held his mother's hand in the interminable silence. She was resting for a moment, summoning all her strength, all her courage.
She would go and he would miss her.
And he would never forget what she taught him that day.
******
Ninya's Notes:
Wow, it's been a long time.
It took a while for me to write Stellan's story, not only because I had a brand new baby, but because I had so many plot ideas I wanted to use. There was some pressure considering how much of a CBB fan-favorite he is and I didn't want to mess it up. But I eventually resolved to just follow my heart with him. Best guide, right?
As I was writing out the early chapters, it occurred to me that there are some minor parallelisms between this story and the one that started this series, Virtue and Vice. Just like this prologue. But don't worry, they're quite different from each other. Just the male lead alone!
Anyways.. this story isn't fully written out. I'm several chapters in so that I can hopefully consistently post weekly. For those who'd been with me as I posted the other books chapter after chapter, you know the drill.
Chapter One will follow this Prologue shortly though, to make sure I leave you right where you need to be for this story to properly start.
Hope you enjoyed. Please comment as I always enjoy reading what you have to say.
♪♪♪ Chapter Soundtrack: Supermarket Flowers by Ed Sheeran ♪♪♪
I took the supermarket flowers from the windowsill
I threw the day old tea from the cup
Packed up the photo album Matthew had made
Memories of a life that's been loved
Took the get well soon cards and stuffed animals
Poured the old ginger beer down the sink
Dad always told me, "Don't you cry when you're down"
But mum, there's a tear every time that I blink
Oh I'm in pieces, it's tearing me up, but I know
A heart that's broke is a heart that's been loved
So I'll sing Hallelujah
You were an angel in the shape of my mum
When I fell down you'd be there holding me up
Spread your wings as you go
And when God takes you back we'll say Hallelujah
You're home