103
The sun filtered gently through the sheer curtains of the VIP suite, casting golden light across the polished floors and soft beige walls. The beeping machines were gone now, replaced by a peaceful hum of quietude.
Katherine, seated in a cushioned chair by the window, sipped slowly from a cup of tea while staring out at the New York skyline. Her face, once marred with bruises and swelling, had begun to regain its natural shape. A faint scar lingered at her temple, subtle yet permanent. Her ribs still ached with every breath, but she could walk now without needing support. The nurses called her recovery miraculous.
But even miracles couldn’t mend everything.
Her phone sat on the bedside table, always within reach. Each day she had tried calling Kingsley—morning, afternoon, night. The result was always the same:
“The number you are trying to reach is currently unavailable.”
In the first week, she assumed he might be overwhelmed. By the second, she was sending long, emotional messages, pleading for answers, forgiveness, and understanding. By the third week, she had stopped begging.
Her thumb hovered over the last message she’d sent two nights ago:
“Kingsley, if you can read this, please just tell me the truth. Did you ever mean any of it? Or was I just something to throw away when things got difficult?”
There had been no reply. Not even a read receipt.
A knock sounded gently on the door before it creaked open.
Carolina stepped inside holding a small bag, a hopeful smile on her lips. “Hey, guess what? Doctor Stern says you’re officially ready to be discharged.”
Katherine smiled faintly, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “That’s good. It’s time, I guess.”
Carolina crossed the room and perched beside her on the edge of the bed. “You look better. Stronger. Your color’s back. And walking without a limp—that’s a miracle in itself. You’ve come so far, Kat.”
Katherine nodded, absently brushing a hand over the scar on her face. “On the outside, maybe.” She looked down. “Inside, I still feel like I’m waiting to wake up from a different kind of coma.”
Carolina reached for her hand and squeezed.
“I know it hurts. But you survived, Katherine. And you’re walking out of here today. Alive. That means something.”
Katherine nodded slowly, then looked back at her phone. “Still no response.”
Carolina gently pried the phone from her hands. “Then maybe it’s time to stop chasing someone who doesn’t want to be found. When you walk out of here today, leave everything behind that tried to break you. Including him.”
Katherine took a breath. Deep. Shaky. And then, for the first time in three weeks, she stood, pulled her long coat from the hook near the door, and slipped it over her shoulders.
“Let’s go,” she whispered.
Carolina opened the door for her. Katherine walked through it, still hurting, still haunted, but walking all the same.
The cab pulled up in front of Katherine’s apartment building just as the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm amber glow across the brownstones and sidewalks of her quiet Brooklyn neighborhood.
Carolina stepped out first, taking Katherine’s duffel bag from the back seat, and turned to help her friend as she gingerly exited the car.
Katherine looked up at the familiar brick exterior of her building. It felt like another lifetime since she’d last been here—before the coma, before the betrayal, before everything. The building hadn’t changed, but she had.
She paused a moment on the sidewalk, hand resting lightly on the cool iron of the stair railing, then slowly climbed the steps with Carolina behind her. The click of her key in the door echoed with memory.
When the door opened, the scent hit her first: warm vanilla and lavender, home.
She stepped inside.
Everything was exactly as she’d left it. The cozy couch Kingsley had bought for her still sat against the far wall, the throw pillows slightly askew. The candle by the window was long burned out. Her favorite tea mug, still in the dish rack, waiting. The furniture he bought for her, the curtains, the bed—everything reminded her of him.
Carolina walked in behind her and placed the bag down gently.
Katherine stood in the center of the room, taking it all in. A home once filled with love, laughter, and him. Now it felt like a ghost town of everything she was trying not to remember.
Her hand brushed the edge of the dining table, the very one Kingsley had replaced for her. Her fingers hesitated there for a moment, and then she closed her eyes.
“This place feels like he’s still here,” she whispered.
Carolina moved close, placing a gentle hand on her back.
“Do you want to stay with me tonight instead? You don’t have to be alone.”
Katherine shook her head softly.
“No. I need to face it. I need to be here. To remember who I was before him. And maybe try to find her again.”
She turned, offering a tired smile.
“Thank you for everything, Carolina. For not giving up on me.”
Carolina’s eyes shimmered.
“I never will.” She hugged her tight, then pulled back.
“Text me if you need anything, okay? I’ll come running.”
Katherine nodded. Carolina left, quietly closing the door behind her.
Katherine stood alone for a long moment, then walked slowly to the couch and sank into it. She leaned her head back, staring up at the ceiling as dusk folded around the room.
She didn’t cry. She couldn’t.
Instead, she whispered into the silence,
“Where are you, Kingsley?”
Her phone buzzed on the armrest. Her heart leaped, reaching for it.
No name. No reply. Just another spam email.
She set it down again, closed her eyes, and breathed.
As the hours passed, hours turned into days, and days turned into weeks. Muted sunlight filtered through half-drawn curtains, casting long, stagnant shadows across the living room. Empty teacups cluttered the coffee table. A folded hospital discharge bag sat untouched in the corner, gathering dust.
Katherine sat motionless on the couch, knees drawn to her chest, phone in hand. She stared blankly at the screen. Beth’s Instagram page was open like a fresh wound.
Again. Kingsley.
Every post was like another punch to her gut.
Him holding Beth’s hand.
Him laughing beside her on a sailboat.
Kissing her cheek under soft string lights at what looked like a garden party.
Even one—God—of him cupping Beth’s waist, her back arched, her head thrown back in a laugh.
She blinked slowly, as if her body couldn’t even summon the tears anymore. She had cried so much already.
“He said he was going to divorce her,” she whispered to the empty room.
“He said I was the one.”
Her voice cracked.
The apartment was too quiet. Too still. She used to love the peace, but now it was suffocating.
She had nothing to distract her. Nothing to pull her out of the spiral. Because she had lost everything.
The café, the place that once gave her joy, community, and purpose, was gone. She’d been forced to shut it down because of all the accusations.
And all of it because of him.
Because she fell for Kingsley all over again.
Because he came crashing back into her life with flowers, promises, and tears, only to vanish and remarry the same woman who had nearly killed her.
She clutched the pillow tighter, her breath short and trembling.
“This coma, this pain, losing my business, my peace, even my face was barely recognizable when they found me—all of it, because of Beth. And because of him.”
And now he was gone.
Gone without a word.
Just like before.
Only this time, it was worse.
He had known she was in a coma. He had held her hand in the ICU. He had seen her, and he still left. To go back to Beth.
Her jaw clenched. Her stomach churned. She tried sending him another message, even though the last dozen had gone unanswered.
Still:
“Why did you leave me?”
“You promised me.”
She stared at the word delivered beneath the message, but no reply came. Her thumb hovered over the screen, but her eyes drifted again, back to Beth’s profile.
Another new post.
A boomerang video of Kingsley twirling Beth in an empty ballroom, her long dress flowing behind her.
Caption:
My forever, my king.
Katherine dropped the phone. It clattered to the floor.
Her chest heaved. The world spun.
“You don’t get to do this to me again,” she whispered to herself.
“You don’t get to destroy me again and walk away like I meant nothing.”
She stood, walked into the bathroom, and stared at her reflection. Her face was thinner, still healing from everything. But her eyes—they were fire now.
“You don’t get to love me twice and leave me twice. Not without a damn explanation.”
She needed closure.
She needed answers.
She needed to face him, not as the girl who cried, but as the woman who demanded to be heard.
The next day Katherine went to Carolina’s apartment to inform her about the trip she had to take.
Carolina was curled up in a throw blanket, sipping tea, when the knock came. She opened the door to find Katherine standing there, dressed casually, a weekender bag slung over one shoulder, sunglasses perched in her hair.
“Hey,” Katherine said, trying to sound breezy. “Can I come in?”
“Of course.” Carolina stepped aside and gave her a quick hug. “You look… better.”
“I’m trying,” Katherine replied with a soft smile, walking in.
She sat down, carefully folding her hands in her lap. Carolina returned to her chair, studying her best friend with quiet concern.
“So…” Carolina prompted gently. “What’s going on?”
Katherine hesitated, then took a breath.
“I’ve been thinking,” she began. “I need to get away for a bit. Just… clear my head. Reset. Maybe it’ll help me finally let all this go.”
Carolina blinked. “You mean like, what? A trip?”
“Yeah,” Katherine nodded. “A short vacation. Somewhere out of town. Just me. No distractions. I just need space, you know? A little fresh air. A break from everything.”
Carolina exhaled, visibly relaxing.
“Honestly, that sounds like a great idea. You’ve been through hell, Kat. You deserve a breather. I think it’ll do you good.”
Katherine smiled faintly, lowering her gaze.
“Thanks. I thought you might try to talk me out of it.”
“Why would I? You’re not running from anything. You’re healing. That’s the most important thing. Just… take care of yourself, okay? And call me when you land, wherever it is you go.”
“I will,” Katherine promised, her voice barely above a whisper.
But inside, guilt churned like a storm cloud.
Because she wasn’t going on vacation.
She was going to Manhattan.
To find Kingsley.
To confront the man who had once again broken her heart and left her in pieces.
Carolina reached out and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.
“Come back when you’re ready. We’ll be here.”
Katherine squeezed back and stood, forcing a final smile.
“I will.”
And with that, she left the apartment, heart racing, nerves simmering beneath the surface, as she headed toward the journey she had to take.
Not for closure.
But for justice.
And for the truth.