Chapter 397

Chapter 397
Nathan opened his eyes around seven in the morning. The room was silent, except for the rhythmic sound of the heart monitor. The faint light of dawn entered through the cracks in the curtain, casting pale lines on the white sheet. Beside him, Stella slept exhausted, still holding his hand.
With a slow gesture, Nathan reached his other hand up to her hair, caressing it tenderly. His touch was gentle, but full of gratitude. For a moment, he forgot the pain in his chest and thought only of how lucky he was to have her there.
The door suddenly opened. Zayan entered. His eyes were red from exhaustion, his coat wrinkled. He hadn't gone home that night, preferring to sleep in the hospital office to monitor Nathan's condition. As soon as he heard that Nathan had woken up, he rushed to the room.
“How are you feeling?” he asked quietly, as if he didn't want to break the intimate moment.
Nathan responded with just a nod, signaling that he was conscious, though weak. Then he looked at Stella, still asleep, and murmured,
“Help me put her in bed.”
Zayan nodded and approached. He rolled up his sleeves, moved the chair aside, and carefully lifted Stella into his arms. She stirred slightly, almost waking up, and Nathan, suspicious, gave her a piercing look. Zayan gently laid her on the bed and raised his hands, as if to prove his innocence.
“Even though she's thin, don't forget she's pregnant,” he said, somewhat defensively.
Nathan just pointed to the door, his face hardened. Zayan, annoyed, frowned.
“You're ungrateful. Don't forget who saved your life yesterday. If it weren't for me, you'd be dead. And now you look at me as if I were your enemy.”
The words echoed through the room. It was at that moment that Stella opened her eyes. Startled, she sat up quickly.
“Nathan?” she whispered, surprised. “Are you awake?”
She looked around, confused, realizing she was in his bed.
“How... how did I get here?”
Zayan cleared his throat, already feeling the tension rise. “I need to get back to work. Stella, take care of him. If there's any problem, call me.” He left hurriedly, fearing that Nathan would lose his patience.
The young woman looked at her husband suspiciously:
“Did you ask Zayan to carry me?”
Nathan snorted, looking away.
“He's weak. He's not a real man.”
Stella couldn't help but chuckle quietly.
“If he hears you, he'll be hurt. He did everything he could for you. He didn't come home yesterday; he stayed on call at the office. At midnight, he came by several times to check on you.”
Nathan remained silent, but the expression on his face did not hide his jealousy. Then, in a firmer voice, he asked:
“Where are you going?”
“I'm going to go downstairs for a bit.”
“You don't need to. Stay here. It's still early. Get some more sleep.”
“What if I touch your wound?” Stella hesitated. “Besides, I'm heavier now, I might hinder your recovery.”
Nathan held her hand. “It doesn't matter. I just want to hold you.”
She sighed, defeated, and lay down next to him carefully, making sure not to press on the wound. While checking the bandages, Nathan teased her:
“Wife, I'm injured. It's not good to tease me like that.”
Stella rolled her eyes and changed the subject:
“Where's Liam?”
“I asked Clara to take him home.”
“I see. He talked a lot yesterday. While we were waiting for your surgery, he wouldn't stop talking to me. He's much better.”
Nathan listened to her in silence, his gaze softening. Then he kissed her forehead and murmured:
“Then get some sleep. We still have time.”
While Stella rested with Nathan, in another room of the hospital Joseph opened his eyes. The smell of disinfectant suffocated him. He was alive, but handcuffed to the bed. He knew there was no way out. Living in prison would be worse than death.
But there was something that still held him back: his son. He still existed.
“I want to see Marlon,” he said to the doctor who entered the room.
“There's a woman named Carol in his room. Bring her to me.”
The news reached Carol, but her expression was indifferent.
“He just wants to ask me to keep his son. But I won't. Not now.”
Marlon, lying in the bed next to her, watched her.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. What are we, Joseph and I? Nothing,” she replied coldly.
Carol's parents were present. Her father reinforced her decision:
“Daughter, don't go. He has nothing to do with us anymore.”
Carol just laughed humorlessly.
“Don't worry, Dad. I don't want to go.”
Meanwhile, Joseph waited. Every time the door opened, his heart raced, but it was never Carol. The doctor repeated that she didn't want to see him. The rejection weighed heavier than the physical pain itself.
“She didn't come because she's having an abortion...” he thought desperately. “She's going to get rid of my child.”
It was intolerable. He couldn't allow it. He had to find her, no matter what.
The next morning, while changing the bandages, the nurse leaned over him. Suddenly, he felt something cold against his neck. He froze.
“Mr. Malares... what are you doing?” Her voice trembled.
Joseph held a blade firmly, pressing it against her delicate skin.
The doctor, noticing this, took a step forward, but Joseph shouted:
“Don't come any closer! If you take another step, I'll kill her.”
The nurse held her breath, her eyes wide.
“Open the door,” Joseph ordered, staring at the doctor. “Call the police and have them release my handcuffs now!”
The doctor hesitated, but fearing for the young woman's life, he obeyed. He ran to the door and called the police.
Two of them rushed in, guns drawn.
“Drop the knife, Joseph. You have nowhere to go.”
He laughed darkly.
“So many deaths already weigh on my shoulders... It won't make a difference if I add one more.”
The police officers looked at each other. They knew he was serious. Joseph Malares never backed down.