His Shadow Vow

The divorce proceedings between Grant Harrison and his society-arranged wife finally concluded in their eighth year.

I was carrying a thermos of chicken soup that had been simmering for five hours when I went to Grant’s office.

The ultrasound picture was folded carefully in the pocket closest to my heart.

As I reached his office door, the voice of his best friend leaked through the gap.

“Grant, this farce has been going on for seven years. When are you finally going to sign the papers?”

“Audrey was twenty when she got with you, you dated for three years, and she’s waited another seven through this sham of a marriage. She’s almost thirty now. If you have no feelings for your wife, then end it and give Audrey the life she deserves.”

The smile on my face hadn't yet faded when Grant's voice reached my ears.

“His wife is pregnant.”

I froze. He was talking about the other woman. The one he was divorcing.

His friend's voice shot up, incredulous. “Pregnant again? Your first kid is already five, and you’ve been hiding him from Audrey this whole time, terrified she’d find out.”

“You’re about to be divorced, and now there’s a second on the way. What the hell are you going to do?”

Grant was silent for a moment.

“I’m having her keep the baby. I won’t have children with any other woman. That was one of my conditions for agreeing to the divorce.”

My hand clenched the thermos, the searing metal edge digging into my palm.

So this is what it felt like to have your heart carved out.

I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t called in a very long time.

“Aunt Helen? I’ll go to Africa with you.”

1

After hanging up, I hailed a cab and went home.

The cityscape blurred past the window, a frantic retreat mirroring the absurd decade I’d spent with Grant.

He had said, “Leah, our families are worlds apart. My mother will never approve.”

He had said, “Leah, it’s just a strategic marriage. There are no feelings involved, I swear.”

On his wedding day, he even brought me before his new wife, Audrey, to lay the cards on the table.

That brilliant, vivacious woman swirled a glass of red wine and smiled at me.

“Miss Evans, please. Don’t feel burdened by any of this.”

“I have someone I love, too,” she’d said. “Grant and I are just… mutually beneficial. A means to an end.”

“We’ll divorce when the time is right. You just have to be patient.”

And I waited. For seven years.

Looking back, there were countless opportunities for them to divorce.

Perhaps it wasn’t that they couldn’t.

It was that they didn’t want to.

I dug my nails into the soft flesh of my thigh, hard enough to break the skin, but I felt nothing. Tears streamed down my face in silence.

The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror and passed back a tissue.

“Hey, whatever it is, you’ll get through it. Don’t give up on yourself.”

“You’re young. You should be out there seeing the world.”

I looked out the window, repeating his words in my mind.

You’ll get through it.

It’s time to go find yourself again, Leah.

When I got home, the sound of the shower was running. Grant was home.

I turned on the television. My aunt was on a live broadcast from Africa, the great wildebeest migration unfolding magnificently behind her. It was the first time I’d watched her photojournalism segments since college.

Seven years ago, Aunt Helen had offered to pay for my graduate studies abroad, to have me join her, flying across the globe.

I was tempted, but I couldn't leave Grant.

He held me and cried the entire night, then had my name tattooed over his heart. The Harrisons were an old-money dynasty with strict rules; tattoos were forbidden.

He broke the cardinal rule for me.

And for that, I loved him with a devotion that left me defenseless. A single gesture from him, and my world would fall apart.

2

Grant walked out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist. He came up behind me, and a cool chain settled against my neck.

He leaned in, his warm lips pressing against my skin.

“Do you like it?”

It tickled. I tilted my head away. “I’m a little tired today.”

He paid my comment no mind, his hands landing on my shoulders, kneading them gently.

“She’s signed the papers. Just three more months, and I’m a free man.”

“Then, I’ll take you to Iceland to see the Northern Lights. We’ll go on vacation in Hawaii. We’ll exchange vows at the foot of a snow-capped mountain. A lifetime together, Leah. What do you say?”

His voice was light, filled with a palpable sense of relief. I forced a smile. My own voice was calm, flat.

“Congratulations.”

I wasn't sure if I was congratulating him on the impending divorce, or on his second child.

My detached response seemed to throw him. He turned me around to face him, his handsome brow furrowed.

“Leah, aren’t you happy? You’ve waited seven years for this day.”

I reached up, smoothing the lines on his forehead, my voice returning to its usual softness. “Of course, I’m happy. Grant, do you remember what you promised me when you first told me you loved me? You promised you would never, ever lie to me.”

His arms, wrapped around my waist, went still. I could feel his gaze avoiding mine.

He let go of me, kissed my forehead, and said, “Leah, I love you. Everything I do is for you, for us. You have to believe that.”

I pushed him away gently, gave him a small smile, and walked into the bathroom.

Staring at my reflection in the mirror—a woman nearly thirty—I felt lost. From the prime of my youth, my entire world had revolved around Grant Harrison. I never doubted his love for me.

But the thirty-year-old Grant couldn’t have a world that contained only love. He had family obligations. He had the responsibilities of a father.

Even after ten years, it was clear we could never truly be on the same path.

3

That night, I was scrolling through my phone in bed when Grant wrapped himself around me from behind, his breathing steady and even.

A message from my best friend popped up.

“OH MY GOD! LEAH! That necklace, ‘The Titan’s Tear,’ that Grant paid an insane amount for at the charity gala the other night… did he give it to you?!”

Attached was a high-resolution photo.

In the picture, a massive sapphire necklace glittered under the lights, practically blinding.

I thought of the one Grant had just placed around my neck. It was exquisitely made, but nowhere near as breathtaking as the one in the photo.

So, that one wasn't for me.

A sour, hollow feeling spread through my chest, my limbs beginning to feel numb. I bit my lip to keep a sob from escaping, but the small movement woke the man behind me.

Sensing my silent tears, Grant sighed with that familiar, indulgent tone. He turned me over, his lips brushing against my cheek.

When he tasted the salt, he apologized instinctively. “I’m sorry. I made you cry again.”

That was Grant’s way. Right or wrong, he was always the first to back down, to soothe me.

The next morning, the space beside me was empty. A courier delivered a small white cocktail dress.

Then his call came, his deep voice on the line. “Morning, sleepyhead. Did you get some rest? I need you to come with me to a gala tonight.”

I hesitated.

He laughed softly, reassuring me. “Don’t worry. It’s just a birthday party for a friend’s daughter.”

I ended up wearing the dress.

That evening, as Grant led me from the car, countless probing eyes landed on me.

Whispers buzzed around us like flies.

“So that’s the one who waited seven years?”

“She’s pretty enough, I guess. Must be almost thirty, though. Suppose she finally made it.”

My nerves got the best of me, and I nearly tripped. Grant’s hand shot out to steady my waist, his touch firm. He gave me a reassuring smile.

I took a deep breath and straightened my back.

Grant was quickly pulled away by a few business associates, leaving me standing awkwardly with a glass of champagne.

Suddenly, a small commotion rippled through the crowd.

I looked up and saw Audrey walking toward me, her arm linked with a handsome man I didn’t recognize.

She was wearing a fiery red gown, her pregnancy not yet showing.

And around her neck, the massive sapphire from the photo burned my eyes.

She stopped in front of me, her gaze dropping to the necklace I was wearing.

“Leah, that necklace really suits you. It seems I have good taste, after all.”

I was frozen solid, the blood turning to ice in my veins.

She continued as if she hadn't noticed my expression, her tone deceptively sweet.

“Grant is hopeless with these things. A complete brute when it comes to style.”

“I heard he wanted to get you a gift, so I offered to help him pick this one out.”

“You don’t mind, do you?”

Mockery, ridicule, pity.

A kaleidoscope of expressions flashed before my eyes from the faces around us.

I turned and fled.

4

My phone vibrated in my palm, Grant’s name flashing on the screen.

I let it ring, and ring, and ring. After the fiftieth missed call, I finally answered.

It was his way. He would never stop calling until I picked up.

“Leah! Where are you? I’ll come get you.”

“I’m so sorry. I had no idea Audrey would be there.”

I stood in the middle of a public square, watching the people come and go, my voice as light as the wind. “It’s fine. It just got a little stuffy, I needed some air. I’ll be back soon.”

After hanging up, I stood there, letting the evening breeze dry the tear tracks on my face.

Leah, this is the last time you will ever cry for him.

The moment I pushed the door open, a warm embrace enveloped me.

Grant’s chin rested on the crown of my head as he repeated the words over and over.

“I’m sorry, Leah. I promise, this is the last time.”

“I will never, ever let you face something like that alone again.”

He held me so tightly it felt like he was trying to merge me into his very bones. The familiar scent of sandalwood surrounded me. For ten years, this embrace was the only thing I had ever craved.

In the middle of the night, I was awakened by a rustling beside me.

Grant was tiptoeing out of bed, his phone cupped in his hand, his voice a hushed whisper.

“Don’t be scared. I’m on my way.”

He threw on his clothes, and his footsteps disappeared out the door.

I grabbed my coat and followed him.

Outside the emergency room, Grant was draping his suit jacket over Audrey’s shoulders, his movements as gentle as if he were handling a priceless treasure.

I hid in the shadows at the end of the hall, holding my breath.

Audrey, her face pale, leaned against his chest. “You don’t have to be so tense. I just slipped. The baby’s fine.”

Grant’s brow was knitted with worry, his voice thick with a tenderness he couldn't hide. “You need to take care of yourself. Don’t overdo it.”

“I told you I’d handle your family’s business. Even after the divorce, we still have our children.” His hand moved gently to rest on her still-flat stomach. “You had such a difficult birth with Noah, lost a fallopian tube. We have to be so careful now that you’re pregnant again.”

Noah.

So that was their son’s name. Noah.

Audrey shook her head. “The vultures in my family know you’re divorcing me. They’re all circling. I can’t afford to rest.”

Grant made a decision on the spot. “Then we’ll wait until after the baby is born.”

Audrey looked up at him, her expression unreadable. “And what about Miss Evans?”

Grant was silent for two seconds.

Two seconds that stretched into two centuries.

“I’ll talk to her. She can be childish sometimes. I can calm her down. It’ll be fine.”

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