Chapter 82 Dreaming or Dead?
It had been three whole days before Rebecca finally woke up from her semi-coma.
At first, there was only darkness, soft, heavy and endless. Then came sound. A faint, rhythmic beeping that rose and fell like a distant tide.
It annoyed her, tugging at the edges of her mind, pulling her upward whether she wanted to wake or not. Her body felt strange, as though it didn’t fully belong to her anymore, it felt heavy, aching, numb in some places and painfully sharp in others.
Her chest burned when she tried to breathe deeply. Rebecca frowned, or at least she thought she did. Even that small movement felt like effort.
Her throat was dry, her lips slightly parted as a weak breath slipped out. Slowly, painfully, her eyelids fluttered.
Light spilled in, she squeezed her eyes shut again, overwhelmed, then tried once more. This time, she adjusted, blinking through the blur until shapes began to form.
The ceiling above her was white. Too white. Too bright. It took a moment for her to realize where she was. The smell of antiseptic filled her nose, clean and cold and suddenly, memories rushed back in a violent wave, smoke, heat, screams, the sound of metal tearing apart, Derek shouting her name, she had heard him faintly.
Her breath hitched. She tried to move, panic blooming in her chest, but her body refused to cooperate. Her throat felt dry, her limbs weak. For one terrifying second, she wondered if she was dead. If this was some strange in-between place where pain still lingered and memories refused to fade.
She frowned, when she felt slight pressure on her hand, turning her head gently, then she saw him.
Derek sat beside her bed, slumped forward in a chair that looked far too small for him. His head rested against the edge of the mattress, one hand loosely wrapped around hers as if he were afraid she might disappear if he let go. His left shoulder was heavily bandaged, faint bruises darkening his face. But none of that was what made her chest tighten painfully.
It was his expression.
Even in sleep, tension was etched deep into his features. Dark shadows clung beneath his eyes, evidence of days without rest. He looked exhausted in a way she had never seen before not just physically, but emotionally, as though something inside him had been stretched too thin and never recovered.
Her heart ached. This can’t be real, she thought. He’s still here? How long has he been here?
Her gaze lingered on his injuries, guilt flooding her chest. Did he get hurt trying to save me? What happened to him? Did Vanessa hurt him?
"This… this can’t be real," she whispered, her voice barely audible, more breath than sound.
The sound startled Derek who stirred gently, his brows knitting together as he slowly lifted his head. For a second, his eyes were unfocused, still caught somewhere between sleep and fear. Then their gazes met and everything stopped.
His eyes widened, and in that instant, the mask he always wore, the controlled calm, the businessman’s composure, the one she had gotten used to seeing, shattered completely.
"Becca?" he breathed, his voice rough, almost breaking. "You’re awake."
She stared at him, tears instantly burning her eyes. "I must be dreaming," she murmured. "I died, didn’t I? This is the afterlife, right?"
She could remember vividly Vanessa's men lighting up the place and leaving her in the fire to die.
"No," he said quickly, leaning closer. His grip on her hand tightened, grounding, warm. "No, you didn’t. You’re here. You’re alive and I’m here."
"You can’t be," she whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks. "You were angry at me. I think I'm seeing you because I've wronged you. I’m so sorry, Rek."
That hurt him more than any wound, she shouldn't be blaming herself, since it was his fault she was even lying here.
"Becca," Derek said softly, his voice trembling despite his effort to steady it. "Look at me. Please."
She did, really did, and something about the raw emotion in his eyes made her chest ache. Still, doubt clung to her. Everything felt too fragile, too unreal.
They had said the person you see when you're dead was something you loved. It was Derek and that was why she was seeing him.
"If this is a dream," she continued quietly before he could say anything, "then let me say everything I never had the courage to say to you in real life."
His breath caught, but he didn’t stop her. What did she have to say to him?
"I’m sorry," she whispered, tears slipping down her temples and into her hair. "I’m so sorry for everything. For the fighting. For the things I said when I was angry. For pretending I didn’t care when I actually cared too much."
Derek swallowed hard, his thumb gently brushing over her knuckles, as he allowed her talk.
"I should’ve told you the truth from the very beginning," she went on, her voice shaking. "I liked you. No, more than liked you. From the first day I met you. You were frustrating and arrogant and impossible… but you were kind in ways you didn’t even realize. Not everyone would help out the way you did."