CHAPTER TWO: THE ACCIDENT

They were still tangled in each other's arms, bodies cooling in the aftermath of their lovemaking, when Marcus's phone buzzed insistently on the nightstand. The harsh sound shattered the peaceful cocoon they'd wrapped themselves in.

Marcus groaned, reluctantly reaching for it. "Who calls at six in the morning?" he muttered, squinting at the screen. His expression shifted as he read the caller ID. "It's Jake from the office. I should take this."

Bella nodded, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder before sliding out of bed. "I'll start the coffee," she said, grabbing her silk robe from the chair. She paused at the bathroom door, looking back at him with a playful smile. "Don't be too long. I'm not done with you yet."

Marcus grinned, his eyes following the curve of her body as she disappeared into the bathroom. "Hold that thought," he called after her, then answered the phone. "Jake, this better be important."

Inside the bathroom, Bella could hear the murmur of Marcus's voice through the door, though she couldn't make out the words. She turned on the shower, letting the water heat up as she studied herself in the mirror. Her hair was a wild mess, her lips slightly swollen from Marcus's kisses, and there was a faint mark on her neck where he'd been particularly enthusiastic. She smiled at her reflection, touching the spot tenderly.

This was happiness. This was everything she'd ever wanted, a man who loved her completely, who desired her as much as she desired him, who made every day feel like a gift. Two years in, and the spark between them hadn't dimmed even a fraction. If anything, it had grown stronger, deeper, more consuming.

The shower was perfect, hot and steaming, and Bella took her time, letting the water cascade over her satisfied body. She washed her hair with her favorite jasmine-scented shampoo, the one Marcus said drove him crazy in the best way. By the time she stepped out, wrapping herself in a fluffy towel, nearly twenty minutes had passed.

She expected to hear Marcus still on the phone, or maybe already in the kitchen starting breakfast like he sometimes did on Saturday mornings. Instead, there was only silence.

"Marcus?" she called out, opening the bathroom door. Steam billowed out into the empty bedroom. The bed was unmade, sheets still tangled from their lovemaking, but Marcus was gone. His phone was no longer on the nightstand.

Bella dried off and slipped into a comfortable pair of yoga pants and one of Marcus's old college t-shirts, oversized on her but impossibly soft. She padded barefoot down the hallway toward the kitchen, expecting to find him there.

"Honey?" she called again.

The kitchen was empty. The coffee maker sat cold and unused. A note was propped against it, scrawled hastily in Marcus's handwriting:

Emergency at the construction site. Water main break. Have to run out and handle it before it gets worse. Be back in an hour. Love you. —M

Bella smiled, shaking her head. Marcus was the project manager for a major commercial development downtown, and emergencies like this weren't uncommon, though they rarely happened this early on a Saturday. She picked up her phone to text him, Drive safe, I'll keep the bed warm, but decided to make coffee first.

The morning stretched out peacefully. Bella moved through their home with easy contentment, opening windows to let in the fresh spring air, straightening cushions, watering the plants on the windowsill. Their house wasn't large, a modest three-bedroom in a quiet suburban neighborhood, but it was theirs, and every corner held memories of the life they were building together.

By seven-thirty, she had coffee brewing and was pulling ingredients out of the refrigerator to make Marcus's favorite breakfast, spinach and mushroom omelet with sharp cheddar. He'd be hungry when he got back, especially if he'd been dealing with contractors and plumbers for the past hour.

She was chopping mushrooms, humming along to the music playing softly from her phone, when it rang. The knife clattered to the cutting board as she reached for it, expecting to see Marcus's name.

Instead, it was an unknown local number.

A flutter of unease moved through her chest, but she answered anyway. "Hello?"

"Is this Bella Black?" The voice was female, professional, with an undertone of something that made Bella's stomach clench.

"Yes, this is she. Who's calling?"

"Mrs. Black, this is Mercy General Hospital. I'm calling about your husband, Marcus Black. He was brought into our emergency department about twenty minutes ago."

The world tilted sideways. The phone felt suddenly heavy in Bella's hand, and she had to grip the edge of the counter to steady herself. "What? What happened? Is he…"

"He was involved in a motor vehicle accident," the voice continued, calm and measured in that way medical professionals had, the tone that was supposed to be soothing but only amplified her terror. "He's alive and stable, but I'm going to need you to come to the hospital as soon as possible. He's asking for you."

"I'm coming. I'm coming right now." Bella was already moving, abandoning the half-made breakfast, grabbing her purse and keys from the hook by the door. Her hands shook so badly she could barely grip them. "How bad is it? Please, just tell me how bad it is."

There was a pause, just a fraction too long. "The doctor will be able to explain everything when you arrive. Drive safely, Mrs. Black. Ask for the emergency department when you get here."

The line went dead.

Bella stood frozen in her kitchen for what felt like an eternity but was probably only seconds. The coffee maker beeped, signaling the brew was complete. The morning sun streamed through the windows, cheerful and oblivious. Somewhere in the neighborhood, a dog barked.

And Marcus was in the hospital.

Marcus, who had been in her arms an hour ago. Marcus, who had promised her nothing would ever change what they had. Marcus, who was supposed to be fixing a water main break and coming home for omelets and probably another round of lovemaking.

Her knees felt weak, but she forced herself to move. She grabbed the first shoes she saw, flip-flops, and ran out the door, not even bothering to lock it behind her. The drive to Mercy General was a blur of terror and prayers she didn't remember learning. Please let him be okay. Please let him be okay. Please, God, please.

She couldn't lose him. Not Marcus. Not her Marcus.

The hospital parking lot swam in her vision as she pulled in too fast, tires squealing. She left her car in a visitor spot that might have been illegal, she didn't care, and ran through the automatic doors into the emergency department.

"Marcus Black," she gasped to the woman at the reception desk. "My husband. I got a call. Where is he?"

The receptionist's expression softened with practiced sympathy. "Mrs. Black? Yes, let me get someone for you. Please, have a seat…"

"I don't want to sit. I want to see my husband." Bella's voice broke on the last word, and she pressed her hand to her mouth, trying to hold back the sob that threatened to escape.

"I understand. Just one moment."

The moment stretched into three, then five. Other people moved through the waiting area, a child crying, an elderly man holding his arm, a woman pacing while talking urgently on her phone. Normal emergencies. Regular Saturday morning crises.

But this wasn't supposed to be happening to them. They were happy. They were perfect. Just an hour ago, Marcus had been inside her, telling her he loved her, promising her forever.

"Mrs. Black?"

Bella spun around. A man in blue scrubs stood before her, his face kind but serious. A doctor. She knew he was a doctor by the stethoscope around his neck and the ID badge clipped to his pocket.

"I'm Dr. Reeves. I'm the attending physician who treated your husband when he came in. If you'll come with me, I can take you to him and explain what happened."

"Is he alive?" The question came out as barely a whisper.

"Yes," Dr. Reeves said firmly. "He's alive, Mrs. Black. Come with me."

He led her through a set of double doors, past curtained areas where she caught glimpses of other people's emergencies, down a hallway that smelled of antiseptic and fear. Bella's heart hammered so hard she thought it might burst from her chest.

"Your husband was T-boned by another vehicle that ran a red light," Dr. Reeves explained as they walked, his voice low and measured. "The impact was on the driver's side. He has several injuries we're still assessing, but the primary concern is spinal trauma. We've done imaging, and there's significant swelling and possible fracture in the lumbar region."

The words washed over her like a foreign language. Spinal trauma. Lumbar region. She knew these were bad words, important words, but she couldn't process them. Not yet.

"Can I see him? Please, I just need to see him."

Dr. Reeves stopped outside a door. "He's sedated for the pain, but he's been in and out of consciousness. He kept asking for you. Before we go in, Mrs. Black, I need you to prepare yourself. He's going to look worse than he is because of the external injuries, bruising, lacerations. But the spinal injury is what we're most concerned about. We won't know the full extent until the swelling goes down, but..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "There's a possibility of permanent damage. Nerve damage."

Permanent damage. The words hit her like a physical blow.

"What does that mean?" she whispered.

"It means we don't know yet if he'll regain full function. It's too early to say. But I wanted you to be prepared for that possibility."

Bella's vision blurred with tears she'd been holding back. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and Dr. Reeves pushed open the door.

Nothing could have prepared her for the sight of Marcus in that hospital bed.

Her strong, vital, beautiful husband, the man who had held her just an hour ago, lay pale and still against white sheets. His face was bruised, a cut above his left eyebrow held together with butterfly stitches. An IV line ran into his arm, monitors beeped around him, and worst of all, his eyes were closed, his expression slack with medication.

"Marcus," Bella breathed, rushing to his side. She took his hand carefully, afraid of hurting him, and brought it to her lips. His skin was cool to the touch. "Baby, I'm here. I'm right here."

His eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first, then finding her face. A weak smile touched his lips. "Bella," he rasped, his voice rough. "You came."

"Of course I came, you idiot," she said, tears streaming freely now. "Where else would I be?"

"Love you," he mumbled, his eyes already drifting closed again. "So sorry. Love you."

"I love you too. So much. You're going

to be okay, Marcus. You hear me? You're going to be fine."