133. Everything Will Be Fine

Josh blinked at her. His mouth opened, but no words came.

“Sir, we’ll take care of her. Please stay calm. Someone will update you soon.”

He slumped into the nearest chair, unable to move.

Minutes stretched like hours. Every noise in the waiting room made his heart seize. Every time a doctor or nurse walked past, he sat up straighter, hoping they would speak to him.

But nothing. Not yet.

He stared at his hands. The dark red dried into the creases of his palms, the space under his fingernails. A sick wave passed through him.

What if she didn’t wake up?

What if—

He flinched when a nurse finally called his name. “Are you family?”

“I’m her husband.” The words felt strange coming out of his mouth.

“She’s stable,” the nurse said with calm precision. “We managed to stop the bleeding. There’s a mild concussion, but the CT scan didn’t reveal anything life-threatening. She’s resting now. You can see her, but only briefly.”

Josh's breath hitched. “But—there was so much blood. And she was unconscious the entire ride. Are you sure she’s really okay?”

“Yes. She most likely fainted due to shock. And because the wound is on the head, it bled a lot—it tends to look worse than it actually is. The cut itself is small, though slightly deep. We closed it with two stitches.” She paused, then added gently, “You can go in. The doctor may want to speak with you.”

Josh gave a small, weak nod. His feet moved without conviction, dragging him forward as though each step weighed a hundred pounds.

He exhaled for the first time in what felt like years. His chest shuddered with the release. When he stood, his knees buckled slightly, and he caught himself just in time. His vision blurred, but he followed the nurse down the hall.

Ashley lay in the hospital bed like a broken doll, fragile and pale beneath the fluorescent lights. Her skin looked almost translucent against the white sheets. A square of gauze had been taped to her forehead. Her eyes were still closed—but her chest moved. Inhale. Exhale. Rhythmic. Steady.

A doctor and a nurse stood at her side, still checking her vitals. Josh stopped near the doorway, hesitating. His body froze, but his mind drifted—lost in a cloud of confusion and dread.

“Are you family?”

The doctor’s voice snapped him out of it. Josh flinched, startled, and took a few steps closer.

“Yes. I’m her husband.”

“The external bleeding has been stopped,” the doctor said, matter-of-fact. “Her condition is stable. She briefly regained consciousness earlier and told us she fell and hit her head on the basement floor before blacking out. Was there anything else that happened after that?”

Josh stared at him, hollow-eyed. The question echoed in his mind like an alarm he couldn’t turn off.

He hadn’t seen how it all started. Just the sound. The roar of a motorcycle—loud, violent, echoing in the underground parking lot. He had turned, heart jolting, and saw Ashley staggering—about to fall.

The tires. That screech. It must’ve been the bike that had grazed her. Or maybe hit her. He wasn’t sure. It was all a blur.

Then the motorcycle came back. Faster. Harder. There was no time to react. It struck her—this time, she went down.

And then—

The knife.

His breath caught in his throat as the memory surfaced again, clearer this time, more horrifying. Why hadn’t he said it sooner?

“There was a knife,” he said sharply. “The person—on the bike. He pulled out a knife. Did you find any other wounds on her? Any cuts?!”

The doctor and the nurse both stiffened. Their expressions changed instantly.

“What exactly happened, sir?” the doctor asked, more alert now. “Was this not just a fall?”

“No, it wasn’t,” Josh said, voice tight. “There was a motorcycle. It swerved at her on purpose. She got clipped the first time, and then it came back again—hit her harder. She was thrown. I saw the knife. They flashed it at her and then took off.” He rubbed his face with both hands, shaking his head. “I—I don’t know. Everything happened so fast. I couldn’t process it. I still can’t.”

The doctor took a slow breath, thinking for a moment before speaking again.

“In that case, we’ll need to run a full examination. We’ll check for internal injuries elsewhere on the body. But for now, you can rest a little. The bleeding is under control, and there’s no sign of internal hemorrhage in the brain. We’ll keep her under close observation until we’re absolutely sure she’s stable.”

Josh nodded faintly.

“After that,” the doctor continued, “you’ll need to report this to the authorities. If what you’re describing is accurate, this wasn’t an accident—it was an attack. We’re taking her to imaging now. Once we’re back, you’ll be able to stay with her.”

Josh followed behind as they wheeled Ashley away. He moved like a ghost—present, but disconnected. When she disappeared into the imaging room, he stopped outside and waited, his hands clenched tightly together. The minutes ticked by like a slow bleed.

Then they returned, and Josh followed again, step for step, back to the observation room in the ER.

“If she suddenly complains of severe pain, or if she vomits, please notify us immediately,” the doctor instructed firmly before walking away.

Once they left, Josh dragged a chair beside her bed and sank into it. His body finally gave in to exhaustion, but the fear didn’t let go.

He still couldn’t speak. He could barely breathe.

His fingers reached for her hand and gently closed around it. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

The hallway outside remained quiet, sterile. But Josh’s mind was anything but. It raced through every moment that had led them here. Every choice. Every word.

He thought of Mark.

He thought of the dinner invitation.

He thought of Ashley’s insistence.

He thought of the timing. The two masked men. The precision. The basement, where there were no cameras.

Josh’s eyes narrowed slightly.

If he had insisted on refusing Mark’s dinner invitation, this terrible incident wouldn’t have happened. They might still be in their apartment right now, each doing their own thing.

He would be alone in the study, buried in his endless workload. And Ashley might be sitting in the living room, watching TV or reading a book. Or maybe enjoying the night alone on the second-floor balcony.

And everything would’ve been just fine.

For some reason, he instinctively blamed Mark. And he blamed himself, too—for giving in so easily and going along with Ashley’s request.

His hand tightened slightly around Ashley’s.

“I’ll find out,” he said quietly. “I swear to God, I’ll find out who did this to you.”

The faint beep of Ashley’s monitor was the only reply.

Outside the hospital room, the night had turned still. But something deeper had shifted.

Josh no longer just wanted answers. He wanted blood.

And whoever was behind this—whether a stranger or someone far closer—wouldn’t get away with it.