Adam met Kate in a bookstore. She was looking for a gift for her father, clearly lost.
He noticed her confusion and offered to help. “What does your father like to read?”
She smiled gently. “I’m not sure. He’s sixty-three.”
There was an extraordinary calmness about her that captivated him immediately.
Adam was always rushed, impatient. But with Kate, his temper settled. She was so relaxed, understanding. She’d agree with him softly or smile in a way that made him feel peaceful.
Soon, he wanted to marry her.
Kate’s father was against it. “She deserves better. You’re irrational and hot-tempered.”
But eventually, he agreed.
Everything was great at first. Kate always smiled, never complained about Adam’s temper.
Then Adam started noticing things.
Kate wasn’t just peaceful—she was slow.
“Get ready, we’re meeting friends in an hour.”
Forty minutes later, she’d still be sitting on the bed, staring at her closet.
“Kate, where are we going again?” he’d ask.
He’d make her coffee, set it in front of her. She’d stare at it, then smile. “Is this for me?”
“Yes, Kate. You asked for coffee five minutes ago.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
She read constantly. Adam thought maybe she was too absorbed in books to pay attention.
But she was affectionate. She’d hug him warmly. “I love you, Adam.”
She’d ask if he was hungry and try to cook, moving slowly through the kitchen.
“How do I make pasta again?” she’d ask about simple meals.
Adam’s patience wore thin. His temper returned, worse than before.
“Move faster! Think about what you’re doing! What’s wrong with you?!”
She’d cry, retreat to their bedroom, curl up in a blanket.
One day, Adam found pills in the bathroom. An unfamiliar name. Medication for the nervous system.
“These pills are making you slow,” he said. “Why are you taking them?”
Kate stared at him with glassy eyes. “Please give them to me.”
“No. These are the problem.”
He threw them in the sink and flushed water over them.
Kate screamed. “NO!” She ran to the sink, staring in terror at the drain.
Adam thought he’d get his Kate back—the gentle, passionate woman from the bookstore.
Days later, Kate got worse.
She screamed uncontrollably. Threw plates during lunch, breaking things.
Adam was shocked but thought it would pass.
Then he came home and found her holding a fork, crying.
“Please, get away from me. I don’t want to hurt you. I love you.”
Adam froze. He took her to her father immediately.
Kate hugged her father warmly. “I love you, Dad. I missed you.”
Adam was furious. “How long has she been on drugs?! Why didn’t you put her in rehab?!”
Her father was silent.
“ANSWER ME!”
“She’s not on drugs,” her father said quietly. “She’s mentally ill. Those pills kept her stable. Kept her sane.”
Adam stood in disbelief.
He’d confused her slowness, her illness, for a peaceful temperament.
“Why did you let us marry?!” Adam’s voice cracked.
“Because she became a burden,” her father said. “I thought you’d love her enough to care for her. I thought… you might not notice.”
Kate looked at Adam. “Adam, I love you. I want to take care of you. Are you hungry? I’ll make something.”
Adam’s eyes filled with tears. “I love you too. But I need to leave. You need help.”
He walked out.
Kate’s father took her to a rehabilitation center.
She was surrounded by kind nurses and people like her. She made friends with Jenna.
“I love you, Jenna,” Kate said one afternoon.
Jenna smiled. “I love painting too.”
They were happy. The only thing they’d ever wanted was care and patience.
And finally, they’d found it—in each other.
Adam never forgave himself. Or Kate’s father.
The woman he’d loved had needed help, not marriage.
And he’d been too impatient to see it.
