Chapter 78 A Cruel Awakening

Chapter 78 A Cruel Awakening
Anna’s POV

I knew something was wrong the moment Marcus’s message came through.
Something came up unexpectedly. I’m really sorry.
That was it. No smiley face. No I’ll explain later. No reassurance tucked between the words like he always did when plans changed. Just a short, clipped sentence that felt… off. Too formal. Too distant.
I sat on the park bench across from the pond, my phone resting in my palm like it weighed a hundred pounds. The air nipped at my cheeks, but I barely felt it. Kids laughed somewhere behind me, their joy sharp and intrusive against the unease curling in my stomach.
Marcus didn’t do vague. Especially not with me.

I typed out three different responses and deleted all of them. Is everything okay? sounded too panicked. We can reschedule felt wrong, like I was brushing something aside that shouldn’t be brushed aside. Finally, I settled on something simple.
Are you alright?
The message stayed on delivered.
I pressed my lips together and stared at the pond, watching spiderwebs illuminated by streetlights above. My foot bounced uncontrollably against the ground. He could be busy, I told myself. Practice ran late. Family stuff. Normal things.
But the feeling wouldn’t go away. Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen.
I was just reaching for my phone again when it rang in my hand. An incoming call. Damian’s name flashed across the screen.
My heart dropped.
“Damian?” I answered quickly. “Is Marcus with you?”

There was a pause. Too long. Heavy. I could hear noise in the background—echoing voices, footsteps, something metallic rolling.
“Anna,” Damian said, and my name sounded wrong in his mouth. Tight. Careful. “You need to come to the hospital.”
The world tilted.
“What?” I breathed. “Why? What happened?”
Another pause. I heard him swallow.
“It’s Marcus. He collapsed at the rink. His knee—something went wrong. They rushed him in. He’s… they’re taking him into emergency surgery.”
For a second, I didn’t understand the words. They floated around me, disconnected, refusing to form a complete thought.
Hospital. Collapsed. Emergency surgery.
“No,” I said, the sound sharp and broken. “No, that doesn’t make sense. I just talked to him.”
“I know,” Damian said quickly. “I know. I’m so sorry. Please, Anna—can you get here?”
“I’m on my way,” I said, already standing, my bag slipping off my shoulder. “I’m coming right now.”

I don’t remember how I got to my car. Or pulling out of the park. Or half the drive. My hands shook on the steering wheel, my vision blurring as tears pooled and spilled over.
Marcus was in emergency surgery. He was supposed to ask me to the dance. He was supposed to complain about calculus homework and tease me about stealing his hoodie. Marcus was invincible in my mind—strong and steady and always there.
This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.
The hospital loomed ahead, all harsh lines and glowing windows. I barely parked before I was running, my boots slipping slightly on the pavement as I yanked the doors open and rushed inside.

The waiting area was too bright. Too quiet. The air smelled like antiseptic and fear.
I spotted them immediately.
Peter sat hunched forward in one of the plastic chairs, elbows on his knees, his hands clasped so tightly his knuckles were white. Damian stood nearby with Courtney by his side, pacing back and forth like a caged animal, his phone clutched in his fist.
“Marcus,” I said, my voice cracking as I hurried toward them. “Where is he?”
Both of them looked up at the same time.
Peter stood first, crossing the space between us in three long strides. “Anna.”
I barely registered when Damian joined us. My gaze darted between their faces, searching for something—anything—that told me Marcus was okay.
“What happened?” I asked, the words tumbling over each other. “Damian said surgery—Marcus said his surgery was scheduled in three weeks. Did his knee flare up? He told me he has been doing fine these past couple days, taking it easy.”
Peter’s jaw tightened. Damian ran a hand through his hair, his eyes red-rimmed.
“He collapsed,” Damian said quietly. “We were at the rink after hours. Setting something up.”
“Setting what up?” I asked automatically.

Damian’s mouth twitched, like he might smile under different circumstances. “Something stupidly romantic.”
My heart clenched painfully.
Peter took over. “His knee just… gave out. One second he was standing, the next he was on the floor screaming. I’ve never heard him scream like that, Anna.”
A cold shiver ran down my spine.
“He tried to play it off at first,” Damian added, shaking his head. “But the pain kept getting worse. Then he passed out.”
Passed out.
I sank into the nearest chair, my legs suddenly unable to hold me. “His knee,” I whispered. “But he said the doctor said his last scans looked ok. This sounds—this sounds worse.”
“It is,” Peter said softly. “The doctors think it’s related to something the scans didn't pick up. There was.....blood.”
My chest felt tight, like I couldn’t get a full breath.
“Blood?” I asked.

Damian shook his head. “We're not exactly sure what's going on. They took him straight into surgery. They said it could take a few hours.”
A few hours.
I pressed my hands together, staring at the double doors that led deeper into the hospital. Somewhere beyond them, Marcus was unconscious on an operating table. Alone. Vulnerable.
“I should’ve known,” I whispered.
Peter frowned. “Known what?”
“That something was wrong,” I said, tears slipping free despite my efforts. "When he texted me earlier. Said something came up. I should’ve pushed. I should’ve gone to the rink.”
Damian crouched in front of me, his voice firm but gentle. “Anna, listen to me. You couldn’t have stopped this. None of us could.”
“But he was alone,” I said, my voice breaking. “He didn’t even get to tell me what he was planning.”
Damian glanced at Peter, then back at me. “We’ll tell you when he wakes up. He wanted it to be a surprise.”
That only made the tears fall harder.

We sat there together, the three of us trapped in the waiting room as time dragged forward in cruel, uneven stretches. Every time a nurse walked by, my heart jumped into my throat. Every time the doors opened, I held my breath.
“What if—” I started, then stopped, unable to finish the sentence.
Peter’s hand settled over mine, warm and steady. “He’s strong, Anna. You know that. Stubborn as hell.”
I gave a shaky laugh. “You’re not wrong.”
Damian leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms. “If sheer determination could heal bones, he’d already be skating laps.”
I closed my eyes, picturing Marcus the way I’d last seen him—grinning, confident, full of plans. I clung to that image, afraid that if I didn’t, fear would swallow me whole.
Minutes blurred into hours. Finally, a doctor approached, his expression calm but serious. We all stood at once.
“Family?” he asked.
Damian stepped forward. “We're his brothers. And Anna is his girlfriend,” he glanced at me.

The doctor nodded. “The surgery is still ongoing, but I wanted to update you. The procedure is complex, but so far, it’s going as planned. He’s stable.”
Relief crashed over me so hard my knees nearly buckled.
“Can we see him?” I asked.
“Once he’s out of recovery,” the doctor said. “He’ll be groggy. But he should be asking for you.”
That did it. I broke down then, sobbing into my hands as Damian’s arm wrapped around my shoulders and Peter squeezed my other hand. Marcus was going to be okay.
And when he woke up, he wouldn’t be alone.