chapter 178
Sebastian's POV:
"Mr. Vane?" Dr. Harrison's voice barely registered through the fog in my mind. "Would you like to see your son properly now?"
Son. The word felt foreign, disconnected from the reality of Elena lying motionless in that bed.
I forced myself to turn, to follow him to where they'd placed the incubator, but my movements felt mechanical, puppet-like.
The baby was small—smaller than I'd imagined during all those months of feeling him kick beneath my palm against Elena's belly. Pink skin, tiny fists clenched, chest rising and falling with determined breaths. Alive. Healthy.
I should have felt something. Joy, perhaps. Pride. Relief. But all I could manage was a distant acknowledgment before my gaze pulled back to Elena like iron to a magnet.
Grandmother appeared at my elbow, her hand gentle on my arm. "He's beautiful, Sebastian. Strong, like his father."
I followed the nurses as they wheeled Elena to the recovery room, unable to let her out of my sight for even a moment.
As soon as they had her settled, I was at her bedside, lifting her cold hand to my lips.
The nurses moved efficiently around us, adjusting monitors and checking vitals, but I barely noticed them. My world had narrowed to the pale woman lying too still against the white sheets.
"Mr. Vane," one of the nurses said gently, "we'll be monitoring her closely. The call button is here if you need anything."
I nodded without looking away from Elena's face.
The hours blurred into a day, then a night, then another day.
I hadn't moved from this chair, hadn't closed my eyes, hadn't even looked at our child beyond that first glimpse. Nothing mattered except the woman lying too still in this bed.
Dr. Harrison checked on her again, his brow furrowing as he reviewed the charts. "Her vitals are stable, blood work is improving... physically, she should be waking up by now."
"What do you mean 'should be'?" My voice came out dangerously low.
He hesitated, clearly choosing his words carefully. "Sometimes, Mr. Vane, when the body goes through extreme trauma, the mind needs... extra time. There's no medical reason for her continued unconsciousness."
No medical reason. The words echoed in my head, each repetition ratcheting up the panic I'd been barely keeping at bay.
"There must be something," I insisted, my grip on her hand tightening.
"We're doing everything possible," Dr. Harrison assured me, though his own concern was evident. "Sometimes patients just need the right... motivation."
After he left, I stared at Elena's still face, fear clawing at my insides with renewed vigor.
"Elena," I whispered for the thousandth time, my voice raw from the constant pleading. "Baby, please. You've slept long enough."
Still nothing. The machines beeped steadily, mocking me with their mechanical assurance that she was alive when she felt so far away.
Something inside me finally snapped.
"Elena Ross," I gripped her hand tighter, my voice breaking. "If you don't wake up right now, I swear I'll—" My throat closed around the threat. "Your son needs you. He is going to start calling the nurses 'mama' if you don't—"
A weak squeeze on my fingers stopped me mid-sentence.
"Don't you... dare," came the faintest whisper.
My heart stopped. Her eyes were open—barely slits, but open—glaring at me with as much indignation as someone who'd just survived a massive hemorrhage could muster.
"You wouldn't dare... let them call... someone else..." Her voice was barely audible, but the threat in it was clear.
"Elena!" I nearly sobbed her name, cupping her face with shaking hands. "You're awake. You're—God, baby, you're awake."
I wanted to crush her against me, to feel her heart beating against mine, but forced myself to be gentle. Instead, I pressed careful kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, her lips—butterfly touches that still made her wince.
"Too much," she whispered, but her fingers curled weakly around mine.
"Never. Never too much." I pulled back just enough to study her face, drinking in every detail. "I thought I'd lost you. A day and a night, Elena. Do you know what that was like? Time has never moved so slowly—"
Her free hand lifted shakily to my hair. "Sebastian... your hair..."
"What?" I couldn't care less about my appearance right now.
"White," she murmured, plucking at what I now realized were silver strands. "You have... white hair. Several..."
I caught her hand, pressing it to my cheek. "You scared a decade off my life, what did you expect?"
The door opened and Dr. Harrison entered with obvious relief. "Mrs. Vane, excellent timing. How are you feeling?"
"Like I was... hit by a truck," Elena managed.
"That's to be expected." He began checking her vitals with practiced efficiency. "The good news is everything looks normal now. Your body just needed time to recover from the blood loss."
Behind him, Grandmother appeared in the doorway, her face lighting up when she saw Elena awake. "Oh, my dear girl. You gave us quite the fright."
"I'm sorry," Elena whispered.
"Nonsense. You have nothing to apologize for." Grandmother moved closer, her expression gentle but concerned. "How are you feeling? Do you need anything?"
"The baby—"
"He is perfect," Grandmother assured her quickly, though she shot me a meaningful look. "Though someone hasn't exactly been the most... welcoming father. He hasn't looked at them properly since they were born."
Elena's gaze snapped to mine, suddenly more alert. "Sebastian?"
I shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny. "You were unconscious. Nothing else mattered."
"He is your child," she said softly, but there was steel beneath the weakness.
"He is the reason you almost—" I cut myself off, jaw clenching.
Grandmother sighed. "This is exactly what I was afraid of. He's been glaring at the poor baby like he's enemies every time the nurses bring him past."