Chapter 5: The Witness

Alicia's POV

The hours after surgery blurred into one long, aching stretch of waiting.

The fluorescent lights in the hospital waiting room had lost their mercy hours ago. Since I arrived, they had cut through the quiet, making every shadow sharp, every line in my face obvious in the reflection of the glass wall I leaned against. The rain still hadn't stopped. It came in waves against the panes, rattling as if the storm was determined to test every wall and every heart in this place.

I didn't know how long I'd been staring at the window before I noticed my parents again. They were huddled close together on the stiff vinyl chairs, shoulders pressed, my mother's rosary slack in her hand now that exhaustion had claimed her. My father's arm was curled around her, his head tilted back against the wall. Their eyes were closed, but it wasn't sleep. It was a collapse, born from carrying too much for too long.

And they were shivering.

The air conditioning in the waiting room didn't care that it was storming outside. It blasted through the vents like we were all sitting in a freezer, and my parents, both well into their sixties, clung to each other like children trying to keep warm.

My chest tightened until it was hard to breathe.

This was what I had asked Edward for. Not jewels, not flowers, or whatever expensive distraction he thought could be shoved into my hands when he was absent. Just a driver. Just a car. Someone to bring blankets or sweaters from the house. Something to keep my parents warm while their youngest daughter fought for her life.

But there was no car.

No driver.

No Edward.

I stood before I could think better of it. My legs ached, stiff from hours of pacing, but I pushed forward to the nurse's desk.

"Excuse me," I said, my voice hoarse. "Do you have any extra blankets? Anything at all? My parents—" My throat closed. "It's cold."

The nurse barely looked up, eyes tired behind her glasses. "We only stock enough for patients, ma'am. Not families. I'm sorry."

The words sank into me, slow and unavoidable. I nodded, careful to appear collected, forcing myself together because unravelling here meant no one could put me back.

I shuffled to the waiting area, every step heavier than the last.

If the hospital couldn't help, then it had to be me.

I pulled off my thin denim jacket that had done little against the storm earlier, but was all I had. Carefully, I draped it over my mother's shoulders. She stirred, murmured my name, but didn't wake. I smoothed the collar, then reached for the scratchy hospital blanket I'd begged earlier from a nurse who took pity on me. It wasn't enough to cover them both, but I tucked it around my father, layering it over the jacket.

I sat back down and wrapped my arms around myself.

The cold cut deeper now, gnawing into my skin. My fingers trembled against my elbows. But at least my parents were covered. At least they wouldn't shake quite as hard.

I told myself that mattered more.

Minutes ticked by. The storm howled louder. And still, Edward didn't come.

I tilted my head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. How many times had I swallowed the same ache in this marriage? Had I told myself it was fine, that I was fine, that this was what I agreed to?

But tonight felt different.

Tonight it wasn't just me left in the cold. It was my parents. It was my sister fighting for her life behind closed doors while my husband sat in warmth, in jazz and chandeliers, in some woman's company.

The thought seared hot through the chill.

I closed my eyes. For a moment, I imagined him walking through those doors, shrugging out of his coat, draping it over my shoulders like he used to in the early days, before everything between us hardened into contracts and silence. The image hurt so much that I forced it away.

When I opened my eyes again, the storm outside was thinning. The rain slowed to a mist, the thunder distant. A gray light pushed against the edges of the sky, faint and tentative. Dawn.

The longest night of my life had bled into morning.

I rubbed at my face with frozen hands. My lips felt dry, my eyes raw from holding back tears. I wanted to cry, but the tears refused to fall. Maybe I was past that point. Maybe there was nothing left inside me to give.

A scrape of shoes against the floor pulled my attention.

Elena, whom I texted earlier, stood in the doorway of the waiting area, her hair damp from the rain, mascara smudged under her sharp eyes. She wasn't family, yet somehow she fit here better than Edward ever had tonight.

"Alicia."

I tried to smile. It came out cracked. "You didn't have to come."

"Of course I did," she said, dropping into the chair beside me. She glanced at my parents, at the fragile shields I'd built for them, and her jaw stiffened.

"Where's Edward?"

The question was simple. The answer wasn't. My throat worked, but no sound came.

Elena's eyes softened for a moment, then hardened again. "You don't have to answer. I can already guess."

Unease tightened my chest. "What do you mean?"

She hesitated, rubbing her palms together as though bracing herself. "Maybe this isn't the right time."

The words landed heavier than the storm. My heart lurched against my ribs. "You came at this hour. That has to mean something, so say it."

Elena shook her head. "You've been through enough. Your sister's surgery, your parents, this whole night. You don't need—"

"I don't need lies." My voice broke, brittle but sharp. "If there's something you know, Elena, tell me. Please. I'd rather choke on the truth than starve on silence."

Elena exhaled hard, glancing away. “I had a reason to be at the Avalon tonight. Don’t ask me now. What matters is this — I saw him. Edward. With Lucy Harrington. The woman in the gala photo.”

Her eyes met mine then, steady, searching. And I knew. Even before she said it, before the shape of Lucy's name cut the air, I knew.

Still, I shook my head, desperate. "No. You must have been mistaken. Maybe you saw someone else—"

"I know what I saw." Elena's tone was iron, even as her eyes shimmered with pity. "Edward was at the Avalon with her. They weren't... just talking, Alicia. How he stared at her—" She broke off, biting her lip.

My stomach turned. The taste of metal coated my tongue, like blood from biting back words I couldn't say.

A husband who cared would've been here.

A husband who cared wouldn't leave me clutching scraps while he drowned himself in champagne and chandeliers.

The silence stretched. Elena squeezed my hand harder, as if anchoring me.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't want you to find out this way. But you deserve better than shadows."

Her words broke something in me. Not a shatter, no, it was quieter, crueler. Like ice fissuring, inch by inch, until the whole surface was ready to give way.

I pressed my fist to my mouth, swallowing the sound clawing up my throat.

Outside, the world had calmed, but inside me, everything still roared.