Chapter 83: Awakenings and Unravelings

Chapter 83: Awakenings and Unravelings
Mr Joe stepped into his resort apartment, kicking off his sandals as he walked toward the terrace where his wife sat, calmly watching the tide roll in and out along the beach. The sky above was clear, with streaks of orange and blue gently melting into the waterline.

“Guess what?” he said with a grin.

“Did you successfully book our flights back home?” his wife asked without turning her head, her tone hopeful.

“Yes, I just did,” he replied, clearly pleased. “But how did you know?”

“Well, that’s the only news I want to hear right now,” she said, turning toward him with a soft smile. “So when do we leave?”

“Tomorrow night.”

“Wow,” she said, already reaching for her phone. “I can’t wait to inform the girls about this.”

Just as she picked up her phone, it began to ring. It was her sister—the same one she’d left their three younger children with, and who had also gone to restock Lydia and Julia’s house during their absence. She answered quickly, excited to share the news, only to find out her sister had also called to give her an update and to say she’d booked her own return flight and would also be flying out tomorrow night.

There was a brief moment of surprised laughter between them. It almost felt like everything was slowly falling into place again—routine, familiarity, and home. They both shared their travel details and agreed to meet at the airport the following evening. After the call, Mrs Joe leaned back and exhaled deeply, her fingers lightly drumming against the armrest.

At the Wright household, Melissa, who hadn’t gotten a proper night’s sleep, was sprawled across her bed, fast asleep through the morning hours. Her eyes fluttered open briefly around noon, but she turned to the other side and pulled the duvet over herself. She had no intentions of leaving the comfort of her bed anytime soon.

She wasn’t being lazy—just emotionally exhausted. Everything over the past few days had been intense. And even though things seemed to be calming down, her body was still trying to catch up.

Victor was in his room finalising the last few items for his travel bag. His company’s workshop would begin the following day, and he’d be leaving later that evening to meet a friend so they could travel together in the morning.

Mrs Wright, ever the devoted mother, had spent the day preparing meals and packing food for him, even though Victor had repeatedly told her not to stress. But she didn’t listen—she never did when it came to looking after her children.

She checked and double-checked everything from water bottles to napkins and even added an extra sweater “just in case.” It didn’t matter that Victor was grown—she still saw him as her baby boy heading out into the world.

Back at the hospital, Mr and Mrs James sat quietly in the hospital room. Dennis was still unconscious, but his vitals had stabilised, and he was expected to wake up soon. After a brief exchange, they decided to return home to take a proper bath and freshen up.

“We need to look our best when he wakes up,” Mrs James said. “He shouldn’t see us looking worn out—it’ll only make him feel worse.”

Lydia volunteered to stay behind and watch over Dennis. She didn’t want to leave his side—not even for a minute.

After they left, Lydia walked slowly over to Dennis’s bedside, gently held his hand, and rested her head beside it. Her eyes slowly closed, and she drifted off into a short nap. The sound of the nurse coming in for her rounds stirred her awake.

“You can relax,” the nurse said kindly. “His stats are strong. He should be up soon—any moment from now.”

Lydia nodded and rubbed her eyes. It had only been about an hour since Dennis’s parents had left. She stretched and walked over to the couch, where she sat and began playing a quiet game on her phone to keep her nerves calm.

About thirty minutes later, the James returned looking refreshed and polished. Mrs James had even put on light makeup. They carried a quiet joy on their faces, the kind that only came with relief and hope.

Almost immediately after their arrival, Detective Philip walked in.

“Good morning,” he greeted with his usual calm demeanour.

After exchanging pleasantries, he said, “It’s nearly two hours to the predicted time Dennis is expected to regain consciousness. Once he’s alert, I’ll need to speak with him briefly.”

“That’s fine,” Mr James said, nodding in approval.

The detective took his leave, and they all settled into the room. Time ticked on slowly. Two hours passed, and Dennis was still unconscious. Worry began to set in.

The attending doctor came in, performed a series of responsiveness exercises, and eventually, Dennis opened his eyes.

Mrs James let out a loud cry of gratitude and practically danced beside his bed. “Thank You, Lord!” she exclaimed.

Dennis winced in pain but managed a faint smile. “Mum…” he whispered.

Lydia stood at the foot of the bed, smiling and crying at the same time. Her heart felt light.

The doctor checked Dennis’s ability to recognise people and objects, then gave them the all-clear to be alone with him.

“You look beautiful,” Dennis whispered, turning to Lydia.

“And you’re awake. That’s all that matters,” she replied, moving closer to the bed.

Turning to his parents, Dennis said, “I’m sorry for being a bother.”

“Don’t say that,” Mr James responded quickly, his voice filled with emotion.

Sensing Dennis wanted to be alone with Lydia, Mrs James tactfully touched her husband’s hand. “Let’s give them a moment,” she whispered, leading him out of the room.

Lydia sat beside Dennis and held his hand gently.

“You look like you’ve cried a lot,” Dennis joked softly.

Lydia chuckled and gave him a small nudge. “Don’t start,” she said. “I’m just happy you’re okay.”

He winced a little. “Ouch. I’m still sore, you know.”

“Sorry,” she said, laughing.

“How did the accident happen?” Lydia asked gently.

Dennis furrowed his brows. “I can’t remember clearly… I just remember being hit twice. That’s all.”

He stopped and sniffed gently. “You smell great,” he said, turning to Lydia.

Lydia leaned in closer. “I’m wearing the perfume you gave me,” she said with a shy smile.

Dennis’s expression changed to confusion. “What perfume?”

“The one with the candles and handwritten note,” she said. “It came in a package.”

Dennis shook his head. “Lydia… I never sent any package.”

Her smile dropped. “Wait… what?”

“I didn’t send you any candles or perfume,” Dennis said, more firmly this time.

She stared at him, stunned. “So if you didn’t… who did?”

Before either could say more, the Adenirans returned to the room, this time with Detective Philip behind them.

“Hi, Dennis,” the detective said as he walked in. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, thank you,” Dennis replied.

“This is the detective whose quick response helped save your life,” Mrs Adeniran added.

Dennis nodded gratefully. “Thank you, sir. I really appreciate it.”

Detective Philip smiled. “I’m glad you’re okay. I’d like to ask you a few questions if you’re up for it.”

“I’m ready.”

“Can I speak to him alone?” the detective asked, turning to the family.

They nodded and exited the room quietly. Lydia hesitated but followed them out, though her mind raced. If Dennis didn’t send the package… then who did? And why?

Inside, Detective Philip and Dennis spoke for over forty minutes. When the detective finally came out, he wore a look Lydia hadn’t seen before—a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

He thanked the Jameses and nodded at Lydia before walking away without saying more. Something was definitely going on.

Back inside the room, Lydia joined Dennis again. He looked fine, but something about his demeanour had shifted. He wasn’t cold toward her, but there was a subtle difference she couldn’t quite name.

On the hospital TV, a news report played in the background.

“…new evidence shows Mr. Mark, the café owner accused of a recent murder, might have been wrongly arrested…”

Lydia gasped. “I know that man! His café is just down the street from my house. I always thought it didn’t make sense when they said he was the killer.”

At the Wrights’ house, Mrs Wright and Melissa were also watching the news.

“That’s the man I told you about,” Melissa said. “The one I saw get arrested near Lydia’s house. We’ve also been to his café a hundred times.”

“Guess he’s not the killer after all,” Mrs Wright said, shaking her head. “Honestly, how could they arrest someone like that without being sure?”

Victor, who was finishing his meal, stood and picked up his plate.

“Police are always too quick to close cases. At least they figured it out before he spent years in jail.”

“True,” Melissa added, getting up too.

Victor’s phone rang—it was his friend, calling to confirm their meeting point. He washed his hands, and Mrs Wright handed him the carefully packed food.

“Here you go. For you and your friends.”

Victor smiled, gave her and Melissa a warm hug, and headed for the door.