Chapter 90

Lila’s POV

The seconds stretched endlessly, each tick of the clock above me digging deeper into my chest.

I sat outside the emergency ward, folded into myself and hugging my knees tightly, as if I could hold myself together with just that pressure. The world around me moved in a blur of footsteps, rolling carts, and murmured voices, but none of it mattered. I could only hear my own heartbeat, frantic and uneven, like a drum warning me that something was terribly wrong.

The door to the ER would swing open now and then, and every single time, my body jerked upright. My heart leapt into my throat, only to crash violently back down when I realized it wasn’t him they were talking about. It was someone else, another patient with another emergency.

The waiting was torture.

I pressed my hands into my stomach, curling inward as though I could shield the tiny life within me from the weight of my guilt.

I felt every muscle in my body wound so tight it was painful, my fingers digging into my robe, my teeth sinking into the inside of my cheek. I kept replaying the last moments I had seen him as he laid unconscious, his shirt stained, his body so still while they wheeled him through those swinging doors.

I whispered a prayer under my breath, the same words over and over until they became like breath itself. Please let him be okay. Please, God, let him be okay. Please.

The air was heavy and smelled faintly of antiseptic. It made my stomach turn, but I didn’t dare move. I was convinced that if I stood up, if I left my post here, something terrible would happen inside and I would miss the moment they needed me.

I didn’t even know if I had the right to feel this way anymore, not after everything that had just happened between us. Not after the way he had looked at me, like I was the worst person he had ever met.

I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking my head violently. Now wasn't the time to think about what he had said or did to me. All that mattered was whether he was alive and okay.

It sounded reasonable to not care at this point and just walk away but I couldn’t stop caring. My heart refused to listen to reason.

I don’t know how long I sat there before the doors finally opened and someone stepped out, not a nurse this time, but a doctor.

I was on my feet before I even realized it, swaying and clutching the wall for balance. My throat was raw as I blurted, “Please, please tell me. How is he? Drew, the man you just brought in, Is he okay?”

The doctor looked at me, and I could see exhaustion carved into the lines of his face. But his voice was steady. “He’s stable. The injuries weren’t life threatening. He has some fractured ribs and a cut on his head, but we were able to control the bleeding. So he’s out of danger now.”

I choked on a sob, covering my mouth with both hands. My knees nearly gave out, relief so sharp it was almost painful. My vision blurred instantly, tears spilling before I could stop them.

“He’s going to be okay?” I whispered. My voice cracked like a fragile thing.

“Yes,” the doctor nodded. “With rest and supervision, he will make a full recovery.”

I let out a sound somewhere between a cry and a laugh. Relief surged so violently that I staggered back against the wall, clutching it as though it was the only thing keeping me upright. My tears flowed freely, hot and endless.

For a long moment, I couldn’t even speak. I just kept repeating in my head: He’s alive. He’s alive.

When I finally found my voice, it was trembling. “Can I… can I see him?”

The doctor’s expression tightened. “He needs to rest. We will be transferring him into a recovery room soon, but visitors aren’t encouraged for now. He should not be disturbed.”

“No, please,” I whispered desperately. “I just… I just need to see him. Just to know he’s really okay.”

The doctor frowned, glancing down at me, then at the thin hospital gown I still wore. His eyes narrowed slightly. “You are a patient yourself. Shouldn’t you be worried about your own health? Why are you pushing yourself like this for someone else when you clearly need rest?”

The words stung more than I expected. Why? Because Drew wasn’t just someone else. He was everything I didn’t know how to put into words.

“I’m fine,” I lied quickly. My hands twisted together in front of me. “Please. I won’t disturb him, I swear. Just… please, I need to be there.”

“You should rest,” he tried again, softer now, his tone not unkind. “Stress will only harm his recovery and yours too.”

I felt my chest tighten, the threat of more tears building fast. “I can’t rest unless I know he’s okay. Please. I will just sit quietly, I won’t even speak, I just… I need to be near him.”

The doctor studied me for a long, heavy moment. My eyes burned as I held his gaze, pleading silently. Finally, he sighed. “Fine. But only if you promise to remain still and quiet. He needs absolute rest.”

Relief cracked me open again, another sob breaking free as I nodded furiously. “Yes. Yes, I promise. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

As if on cue, the double doors pushed open, and two nurses rolled a stretcher out into the hall. My breath caught again as I saw him.

His face was pale, his jaw slack, his chest wrapped in fresh bandages under the hospital gown they had changed him into. An IV ran from his arm, the steady beep of a portable monitor trailing with him. His head tilted slightly to one side and his lips parted just enough to show he was breathing.

Even though he looked battered and was unconscious, he still seemed impossibly strong to me and yet so vulnerable.

My breath caught, and I reached out instinctively, my hand brushing the metal railing of the stretcher as they pushed him past. The contact sent a jolt through me.

I followed closely as they wheeled him down the hall, my legs weak and my body trembling, but I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

They rolled him into a private room, the one right next to mine. Fate at this point was being either cruel or merciful but I couldn’t tell.

The nurses worked quickly, adjusting his IV, setting up the monitors, checking his vitals. I lingered by the door at first, holding my breath, afraid to move. My heart hammered against my ribs as though it would burst.

Finally, when everything was settled, they stepped back. One of them glanced at me but said nothing as they filed out, leaving us alone.

And then it was just us.

I moved forward slowly, like I was approaching something sacred, until I reached the chair by his bed. My legs folded beneath me, and I sank into it heavily, my eyes never leaving him.

Up close, the sight was almost unbearable. His lashes lay dark against his pale skin, his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, and the bruises on his temple made him look so breakable. Too breakable.

I wanted to reach for his hand, to wrap mine around it and hold on for dear life. But I didn’t. I was terrified of disturbing his rest, of doing anything to make things worse.

So I just sat there.

Tears slid silently down my cheeks, dripping onto my robe, onto my trembling hands. My chest ached with every breath.

“You stubborn, impossible man,” I whispered shakily, though my voice barely rose above a breath. “ Even now, you still find a way to break me. You couldn’t just stay safe, could you? You had to go and nearly kill yourself.”

A broken laugh tore out of me, quickly dissolving into another sob. My head dropped into my hands as I cried quietly beside him, the sound muffled in the silence.

The weight of everything pressed down harder than ever.

I didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, what he would say when he woke up or if he would ever forgive me.

But for now, I just watched him breathe, my tears falling freely, clinging to the only proof I had left that he was still here.