Semua Bab My Other Half: Bab 51 - Bab 60

The house was quiet, too quiet, the kind of stillness that pressed against Elle’s chest like a heavy , November were gone now, stripped away by winter’s cold hand, leaving bare branches that scratched at the sky. Inside their house the air was thick with unspoken words, a tension so palpable it seemed to hum in the walls. Jack was out on the balcony, his broad shoulders hunched, his back to her as he stared out at the mountains. His arm for weeks now was fine and functioning just fine, he looked fine and handsome as usual but He hadn’t spoken much since yesterday, when the truth or the lie she’d told had exploded between them. He’d punched Nate, his best friend, and stormed off to Luca’s place, his heart broken by the weight of her words. They lived in the same house, bound by his recovery, by her role as his caregiver, but the space between them felt like a chasm she couldn’t cross.Elle’s fingers fumbled with the pill bottle, the plastic cap slipping under her sweaty palms. She g

JACK’S POVThe hospital room smelled of antiseptic and a sterile tang that clung to the air and seeped into Jack’s skin as he stirred on the stiff bed. His head throbbed, a dull ache that pulsed in time with his heartbeat, but it was nothing compared to the storm raging in his chest. His eyes fluttered open, the fluorescent lights above him harsh and unforgiving, casting the room in a cold, white glow.The beeping of a monitor nearby was steady, rhythmic, a lifeline tethering him to the present when all he wanted was to sink back into the pain of his memories.He blinked, his vision clearing, and the first thing he saw was Luca sitting beside him, slumped in a chair, his dark hair messy from running his hands through it too many times. Luca’s face was pale, his eyes bloodshot, worry etched into every line. He was staring at the floor, his hands clasped tightly between his knees, like he was holding himself together by sheer will. Jack’s throat tightened at the sight of his best frie

Jack’s heart was breaking, piece by piece, with every moment Elle stayed silent. He sat by her bed, his eyes tracing her face, searching for a sign of the woman he loved, the woman he’d promised forever to .The night they’d danced in the kitchen, her bare feet on his, her laughter filling the air. his arms wrapping around her as they dreamed of a future together. Those memories were a gift and a curse, filling him with love but also with a guilt so heavy it threatened to crush him.He’d failed her.“I’m so sorry, Elle,” he whispered, his voice breaking. I let you down, and I’ll never forgive myself.” His tears fell, hot and heavy, and he wiped them away, his hands shaking. “I love you. I’ll always love you. Please, just… let me be here.”But she didn’t move, didn’t look at him. Her eyes stayed on the ceiling, her face blank, and the silence was a knife in his chest. He wanted to hold her, to pull her into his arms and promise her they’d get through this, but he could feel her anger,

A month later, things still moving slowly, the night heavy, the kind of darkness that pressed against Elle’s chest, making it hard to breathe. She woke with a start, her heart pounding, tears already streaming down her face. The bedroom was too quiet, the silence a cruel reminder of the life that was no longer there. Her hands reached instinctively for her belly, flat and empty, and the absence hit her like a fresh wound, raw and bleeding. She curled into herself, her sobs shaking the bed, the pillow wet beneath her cheek. The grief was a tidal wave, pulling her under, and she couldn’t fight it, couldn’t find the surface.She saw the nursery in her mind, the blue walls they’d never paint, the stars they’d never hang, the rocking chair where she’d dreamed of holding her baby. The loss was a knife, twisting deeper with every breath, and the guilt was worse sharp, relentless, whispering that it was her fault. She’d failed her baby, failed to keep them safe, failed to carry them into

The morning light slipped through the curtains, soft and golden, painting the bedroom in a warm glow. Elle stirred, her body nestled against Jack’s, her cheek pressed to his chest where his heartbeat thumped steady and strong. She blinked awake, her eyes tracing the familiar lines of his collarbone, the faint stubble along his jaw. For the first time in months, waking up didn’t feel like climbing out of a dark hole. It felt… okay. Not perfect, not whole, but okay. And that was something.Jack’s arm was draped over her waist, his fingers loose against her back. His breathing was deep, still caught in the edges of sleep, and she lay there for a moment, just listening, feeling the warmth of him.Last night had been a turning point, not a fix, not a cure, but a step. She could still feel the ache of their loss, the quiet weight of the baby they’d never hold, but it wasn’t the only thing she felt anymore. There was love, too, and a flicker of hope, fragile but real.She shifted slightly,