Page 68 of Wrong Marriage. Right Groom
Always.
So while other personal assistants probably arrived carrying tablets, planners, and coffee, I arrived with a white cane in one hand and a feverish five-year-old in the other.
My white cane swept forward in a wide, practiced arc, the tip tapping, gliding, tapping again against the glossy floor.
The rhythm mapped the world for me in fragments: distance, obstruction, space.
I didn’t need sight to know how sharply people would be looking at us right now.
We moved forward.
Zara shifted beside me, her small hand tightening around mine.
“Mommy...” Her voice was weak and drowsy. “I don’t feel good.”
A sharp pang of guilt twisted through my chest.
“I know, baby,” I murmured, squeezing her hand gently.
My free hand found her forehead, and the lingering warmth beneath my fingertips sent another wave of worry through me.
“I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.”
I brushed a few strands of hair away from her face before forcing calm into my voice.
“We’re almost there. Just stay with me a little longer, okay?”
“Okay,” she whispered.
“Miss Loretta,” a calm, familiar voice cut through the tension like a steady hand placed on a tilting ship.
Ramiro.
For a second, I swayed, my balance slipping as though the ground itself had shifted.
I caught myself quickly, tightening my hold on Zara before she could register the tremor in me.
“I assumed you might not have fully memorized the route to your new office yet,” he continued, his tone unhurried. “Allow me to guide you.”
My jaw locked.
Yesterday, he had taken something from my child without permission.
Today, he stood here speaking as though nothing in me should be unsettled by his presence.
I turned slightly toward the sound of his footsteps, stopping just outside my immediate reach.
“Thank you,” I said, offering a small, controlled smile even though I knew he couldn’t see it.
“This way.”
I adjusted Zara closer to my side and followed.
My cane resumed its steady pattern.
Ramiro’s presence remained a few steps ahead, his footsteps acting like a metronome guiding mine.
We stopped after a short distance.
