All Chapters of The One I Can't Escape: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

The hours crawl.We keep pretending to do things—dishes that don’t need washing, rooms that don’t need cleaning. At one point, Oliver suggests we go out for a walk just to “breathe air that doesn’t feel like it’s holding its breath.” But we don’t. We stay. As if stepping outside might mean missing something.Something like him coming back.But he doesn’t.Isabella barely speaks. She’s called his phone six times since breakfast and left three more voicemails, each sounding more forced and brittle than the last. She’s tried texting, emailing—even tried calling his sister again, only to get the same uncertain reply: “He hasn’t contacted me.”By noon, she’s sitting at the kitchen island with her laptop open but untouched. Her coffee’s gone cold. Her robe replaced by a crisp blouse and jeans like she’s trying to force normal back into place. But nothing about her posture says normal. She sits stiff, jaw tight, foot tapping against the tile like a ticking bomb.Oliver and I are curled up on

The mood in the house shifts, but it’s not relief. It’s something colder. Quieter. Like a storm has passed and left a stillness too perfect to trust.Dad has gone back upstairs, retreating to his study. The door clicked shut behind him nearly an hour ago, and no one’s heard a sound since.Oliver and I are in the kitchen, pretending to clean up plates we barely touched. The roast sits half-carved, candles flickering lower, casting long shadows across the tile.Isabella is nowhere to be seen.And yet… I feel her everywhere.The silence stretches like a rubber band pulled tight. I can feel it in Oliver’s tense shoulders as he rinses the same glass over and over. I feel it in my own skin, prickling, restless.“She’s too calm,” I say finally.Oliver doesn’t look up. “You think she’s faking it.”“I know she is.”He sets the glass down, slowly. “You think she’s going to do something?”“I think,” I say, voice low, “that we just blew up her fairytale. And people don’t like living in ruins.”Ol

The ambulance screeches into the emergency bay, and within seconds, the doors burst open. The paramedics wheel Oliver out, voices barking instructions in clipped urgency.“Head trauma. BP unstable. Notify Neuro. Let’s go, move!”I try to follow—my legs already moving—but one of them turns sharply and blocks my path.“You can’t come past this point.”“I need to—he’s—please.”But the stretcher is already disappearing behind double doors that slam shut in my face. All I see is a flash of blood-stained gauze and Oliver’s motionless hand sliding out of view.I stand there, frozen. Then, my knees buckle.A nurse notices and gently guides me to a seat. “We’ll let you know as soon as there’s any word. I promise.”I nod, but I don’t hear her. My heart is still trapped behind those double doors. My thoughts are a static roar, sharp and loud and endless. What if that was the last time I see him conscious? What if—I don’t let myself finish the thought.My hands tremble as I dig my phone from my

Her mouth presses into a tight line. I see her shoulders rise, almost imperceptibly, like she’s bracing for a wave only she can see coming.At first, I don’t understand why.Then I follow her gaze.She’s staring at Isabella—who’s sitting right beside me.And in that split second, everything comes rushing back.The argument between Isabella and her, the slap, the things said and not said. The look on Mom’s face the last time Isabella walked out of our house. I had lost sight of it all in the chaos, in the fear—but now, with Mom frozen in place and Isabella in her line of sight, it hits me like a punch to the chest.This is going to blow up.I get to my feet instinctively, ready to meet Mom halfway, to steer her away, to say something—anything—before the air ignites.But I don’t even get the chance.Isabella stands too, her body like a drawn bowstring. Her voice slices through the sterile hallway like a knife.“Oh, you,” she spits. “What the hell are you doing here?”Mom doesn't flinch.

A soft knock breaks the stillness.I look up, blinking away the blur of tears I didn’t realize had gathered. A nurse stands in the doorway, kind but firm, her voice lowered like she’s stepping into a sacred space.“Visiting time’s over for now,” she says gently.I nod, my body suddenly leaden. I want to stay. I want to sit here until he opens his eyes or until the world makes sense again. But I can’t. The rules are the rules, and I’m not going to be the one who pushes too hard and gets all of us kicked out.I stand slowly, give his hand one last squeeze.“I’ll be back,” I whisper, even though I don’t know if he can hear me. “I swear.”Then I follow the nurse out.The moment I step into the waiting room, everyone’s eyes find me. Like they’ve been holding their breath too, waiting for something—anything—to tell them what’s happening behind those walls.“Well?” Jace asks.“How is he?” Lea’s voice is soft, careful.I rub a hand over my face. “He’s... he’s stable. That’s what they said. Bu