Chapter 17

I blinked awake to the relentless rhythmic beeping of a life support machine, my senses gradually coming back to life. The sterile smell of antiseptic hung in the air, tinged with an underlying mustiness that spoke of countless hours spent in this clinical space. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light of the hospital room, I took in the pale walls adorned with nothing but a few clinical charts, and the fluorescent lights overhead casting a harsh, eerie glow that did little to chase away the unsettling silence.

"Hey, you’re finally awake. How do you feel?" Dan’s voice broke through my thoughts, and I turned my head to see him rushing to my side, two steaming cups of what looked suspiciously like coffee cradled in his hands. My brow furrowed in confusion, the warmth of recognition battling with a haze of uncertainty.

"I feel slight pain in my abdomen," I replied cautiously, feeling a twinge as I hesitantly touched the area, realizing there were layers of bandages wrapped snugly around me beneath the thin fabric of the hospital gown. "Where’s Tyson?" I asked, a flicker of concern creeping into my voice as images of our last encounter flashed through my mind: a stranger brandishing a gun, the chaos that followed, and then darkness.

Dan’s expression darkened slightly, annoyance rippling beneath the surface. "He’s gone to the bathroom," he replied curtly, his words more of a dismissal than an explanation.

Just then, Tyson stepped through the door, a hesitant smile breaking through the worry etched on his face. Relief washed over me as he approached, enveloping me in a warm embrace that momentarily dissolved the anxiety coiling in my stomach. I instinctively leaned into him, grateful for the shelter of his presence. "What happened?" I asked, my voice shaky and uncertain, each word a struggle against the rising tide of dread.

"You got shot," Tyson said gravely, his tone heavy with the weight of my own realization, confirming the dreadful suspicion that gnawed at me. My heart raced in response to the raw truth; why had he shot me? I hadn’t even seen his face.

"Did you manage to catch him?" I asked, panic rising in my throat as unsettling images of the gunman slipped into my mind, lurking outside and plotting his next move.

"No, unfortunately, he fled. I had to ensure you were okay and call for help," Tyson explained, worry etched into his features, the dark circles under his eyes revealing the toll of sleepless nights. "But don’t worry; my team is working around the clock to find him."

Dan stood up from the chair beside my bed, shifting closer, his hand hovering over mine; a gesture that felt both strange and unwelcome. I instinctively drew my hand back, irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. "What are you doing here?" I questioned, my tone sharper than intended, aimed at piercing through the disquiet that filled the room. Dan looked momentarily taken aback, but he quickly regained composure, adopting a facade of indifference.

"I thought I should come and see how you’re doing. I was worried about you," he replied, though his sincerity felt forced, a thin veil shrouding his true feelings.

"Well, you can leave; I don’t need you worrying about me," I snapped, feeling the tension rising as I redirected my gaze to Tyson, desperate for clarity and understanding. "How long was I passed out?"

"You’ve been unconscious for three days. You lost a lot of blood," he said, the concern deepening on his face, making me acutely aware of how tired and worn he looked.

Suddenly, Dan spoke up again, his voice booming with an authority that felt unwarranted in this moment. "Emerald, stop being childish. I will not leave you here alone with my child inside you." His words struck me like a freight train, leaving me completely bewildered, my anger flaring in response.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I demanded, confusion morphing into fury as I caught Dan directing a tense glance at Tyson. "What is he talking about?"

Tyson hesitated, the concern twisting his features into a mask of unease. "The doctors discovered that you are pregnant."

"Who's pregnant?" I blurted out, the realization crashing over me like a wave, my heart racing wildly in my chest as panic surged within. I instinctively tugged at the hospital blanket, revealing my legs beneath it, desperate for some kind of evidence that could disprove the shocking claim.

"You are. Please sit down; you’re not strong enough to be walking around," Tyson urged, his voice steady yet laced with concern, but all I could hear was the pounding of disbelief in my ears.

"I can't be pregnant. No! I can't be pregnant!" I protested, defiance rising like hot lava inside me. I pushed off the bed with shaky legs, wobbling unsteadily toward the bathroom, feeling like I needed to escape the reality of my situation.

"Yes, you are," Tyson insisted, his pity palpable, igniting a surge of anger in me directed at both of them.

"Please sit down; you will hurt yourself!" he pleaded, concern morphing into frustration as I resisted. My emotions roared within me, and I glowered at both of them, feeling like I was on the brink of a breaking point. "Can you leave? I need a moment alone!" I declared, moving toward the bathroom, expecting them to respect my request.

To my irritation, neither of them moved; they stood in the doorway, watching me with an intensity that only heightened my anxiety. "Are you both deaf? Leave!" I shouted, frustration erupting from me like lava from a long-dormant volcano.

Slowly, they retreated toward the door, Tyson turning back for just a moment, his expression etched with anguish. "Oh my god, what the hell am I going to do?" I murmured aloud, my voice barely rising above a whisper, the reality of my situation crashing down like a tidal wave. I felt like I was caught in an endless cycle of chaos, utterly overwhelmed by the tangled mess my life had become.

Burying my face in my palms, the weight of it all felt suffocating. Just as I began to spiral deeper into despair, a doctor entered the room, his demeanor professional but unyielding. "Stop facepalming yourself and please lie back on the bed so I can check your stitches." I shot him a look of disbelief; I had just managed to stand, and now he expected me to fall back into bed? Agitation surged within me, but reluctantly, I complied, settling back onto the unforgiving crispness of the sheets.

"So, is there anything else I should know?" I asked, my tone terse as he began to clean my wound with methodical precision.

"You are pregnant; sorry for not telling you sooner," he said, his lips forming a tight line that revealed nothing. An icy wave of frustration hit me, hot and furious, as I shot him a look.

"You are extremely rude. What’s wrong with you?" I snapped back, my irritation boiling over. Realizing he sensed my distress, he turned on his heel and exited without another word, leaving me feeling more frustrated and misunderstood than ever.

"This day just keeps getting worse," I murmured, burying my face in my hands again, feeling the weight of gloom pressing down on me like a heavy shroud.

"You shouldn’t be so worked up; it’s a good thing you are pregnant," Dan remarked, reappearing at the doorway with his hands stuffed into his pockets. My exhaustion deepened, and I let out a weary sigh.

"Why? How is this a good thing?" I asked, frustration spilling out as hot as blood bursting from my wound.

"A child is a blessing for both of us," he added, stepping closer, his hopeful expression seeking some kind of connection, wanting to bridge the chasm between us that was widening by the moment. "You don’t even like me; how could you love a child?" I questioned, needing him to acknowledge the truth in my words, wrestling with the uneasy feelings swirling inside me.

"How could I not love my own blood?" he replied, and I turned away, guilt gnawing at my insides. How could I possibly tell him the truth and shatter his fragile hopes? "So you don’t like me?" I pressed, desperate for clarity amidst the emotional chaos that surrounded us. He sighed heavily, brows furrowing in annoyance. "I don’t want to fight."

"Who said I wanted to fight? I just want you to tell me how you feel. Is that so hard for you?" I fired back, regretting my confrontational tone almost immediately.

"Let’s not talk about this now. We need to get you somewhere safe. The person who shot you is still out there; someone wants you dead." His serious gaze fixed on me, the gravity of the situation settling heavily in the air, making it clear that our battle was just beginning.