Lahat ng Kabanata ng TAKE ME BACK EX WIFE: Kabanata 191 - Kabanata 200

192JOANA’S POVLater—maybe hours, maybe minutes—the door creaked open again. A different man walked in this time. One I hadn't seen before. Tall, shrouded in darkness, his face partly covered by a hoodie.He did not talk.He came over and stared at me, crouching.I looked right back.Then he drew near. "How much longer can you go without food?" he asked quietly.I didn’t reply.He tilted his head. "They’re not going to feed you. You’ll break soon.""No," I rasped. "I won’t."He studied me for a long time before standing. “She’s spiralling, you know. Louisa. This wasn’t supposed to go like this. But she’s unravelling."I squinted at him. “Who are you?”He didn’t answer. Just turned to leave.The door shut.Maybe he was just another cog in Louisa’s broken plan. Or maybe, just maybe, someone in that house was beginning to doubt their allegiance.And that—That was stock enough to cling to at present.—The day stole in slowly next and with it an eerie quiet. I could hardly distinguish b

194 JOANA’S POV After everything Clinton did to save me, there was no doubt in my mind—I owed him everything. My life. My future. My sanity. He charged through bullets for me, picked me off the ground when I was moments from collapsing, carried me into freedom, and never once hesitated. He had risked death, and now... he was somewhere between it and life. And I was here... alive, assembled by machines and sorrow, but down there in the hall, he lay in a coma. I was sitting down on the edge of the hospital bed, with my hands tightly clasped before me in my lap, staring at the blank wall. The painkillers did stop the pangs in my ribs but not in my chest. Sleep had stolen in and fled like a spectre, airy and haunted, but today I got myself out of bed. Mirabel. Jake. Japheth. My babies. Thoughts of them set a new circle of emotion ablaze. I didn’t know how I’d manage to hold myself together once they arrived. How could I? After all they’d been through. After all, I'd hidd

196JOANA’S POVI leaned back against the pillows, tension riding my shoulders like weights. Louisa was still out there — still a ghost haunting my peace. Still, a wound refusing to scab over.But two of her pawns were caught. It wasn’t a victory, but it was something. A crack in the wall.Then Caleb’s voice dropped into something gentler, more personal. “Do you… want to see Clinton?”The mention of his name was a jolt to my system.I froze.The air grew heavier.The last time I’d seen him, he was stuck on the machine, a ventilator in his mouth to aid his breathing. I didn't want to see that sight again but… I can't help but wonder how he was doing.My throat tightened. “Yes,” I breathed. “Please.”He stood and offered me his arm. “Take it slow.”My legs trembled beneath me, but I was stronger than I’d been yesterday. I emerged slowly out of bed with his support. Each step made me feel a flash of pain stir in my body but I needed this feeling because it was what made me alive.The cor

198JOANA’S POVI sat beside his bed, holding his hand as the doctor entered. Clinton stirred slightly, blinking against the brightness. He was already stronger than yesterday. Speaking more. Responding faster. I thought things were finally shifting in our favour.Dr. Nehru offered a polite smile as he opened the folder in his hands. “Good morning, Clinton. Joana.” He stepped closer, checking Clinton’s chart, then his vitals, listening closely to the sounds in the stethoscope.Clinton tried to sit up straighter, and I helped him adjust.“Vitals are improving nicely,” the doctor noted. “But there’s something we need to discuss.”A sharp chill cut through my stomach. My grip on Clinton’s hand tightened. “What is it?”Dr. Nehru exhaled quietly and lowered the file. “We did a neural scan earlier this morning to follow up on some reflex tests from yesterday. The results show that there has been some minor neurological damage, most likely caused by prolonged trauma during the time he was un

200JOANA’S POVThe next morning came with golden sunlight slipping through the hospital blinds. For the first time in days, the skies were clear — not just outside, but inside me too. A quiet kind of clarity had settled in my bones.I slipped on a cardigan and made my way to Clinton’s room. The nurses had told me, more than once, that I needed rest. That I needed space. That emotional trauma didn’t heal overnight. But I couldn’t stay still. Not when Clinton needed help.Not when I owed him everything.When I got in, Clinton was already sitting erect in his bed wearing his therapy belt. There was a nurse on his side who was assisting him to make the final preparations, but upon seeing me, the person smiled and excused herself."This is too early," Clinton said, with a kind of mockery in his voice.I shrugged. "Wasn't able to sleep much. Thought I’d come help out.”He gave me a knowing look. “You’re still doing that thing where you take care of everyone but yourself.”“Maybe,” I admitt