Chapter 82 India

Chapter 82 India
Chapter 82: India 

The hospital room in India was quiet in the way money bought silence. The machines hummed softly, steady and indifferent, their green lines moving up and down like they didn’t care who lay connected to them. Izo lay still on the bed, his face pale, eyes closed, his chest rising only because the machines told it to. 

Gwen sat beside him, her back stiff, her fingers wrapped tightly around the edge of the mattress as if letting go would make him disappear. Her heart beat hard against her ribs, loud in her ears, louder than the machines. She leaned closer to him, her voice trembling as she spoke.

“You can’t do this to me,” she whispered. “Please dad…”

Her eyes burned, and tears slid down her cheeks without her bothering to wipe them away. She squeezed his hand gently, afraid even pressure might hurt him. “I can’t lose another parent,” she said, her voice breaking. “I can’t. You hear me? You can’t leave me too.”

The door opened quietly, and two doctors walked in, their faces professional, calm, practiced. Gwen straightened immediately, wiping her face with the back of her hand, trying to pull herself together. One of the doctors checked the monitors while the other examined Izo, lifting his eyelids, pressing gently at his chest, adjusting a drip. Gwen watched every movement like a hawk.

“How is he?” she asked sharply. “Has anything changed?”

“He is stable,” the doctor replied calmly. “No improvement yet, but no decline.”

“When will he wake up?” Gwen demanded. “How long is this going to take?”

“It is hard to say,” the doctor answered. “Comas are unpredictable. We can only monitor and wait.”

Gwen clenched her jaw. “Waiting isn’t good enough.”

The doctor gave her a polite nod. “We will continue to do everything possible.”

They finished their checks and walked out, their footsteps fading down the corridor. The door clicked shut, leaving Gwen alone with Izo again. The silence rushed back in, heavier than before. Gwen stood up abruptly and began pacing the room, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor. Her hands moved restlessly through her hair, her breathing uneven.

“This is all her fault,” she muttered. “All of it.”

She stopped by the window, staring out at the distant city lights. “If she hadn’t been so useless… so dramatic… none of this would have happened.”

She turned back to the bed, glaring at Audrey’s absence as if it were standing right there. “You stressed him out. You ruined everything. You couldn’t just behave. You had to be weak.”

Her pacing grew faster. “Now look at him. Look at what you did.”

She stopped again beside Izo, smoothing the blanket over his chest with shaking hands. “Don’t worry,” she said softly, her voice changing. “I’ll handle everything. I always do.”



Back at the mansion, night had settled deep and quiet, the kind of night that made every sound feel louder than it should. Audrey sat in her wheelchair near the bed, her body tense, her expression blank as Lorrine helped her change into her nightie. Lorrine moved carefully, gently, aware of every small reaction from Audrey.

“Lift your arm a little,” Lorrine said softly.

Audrey did as told, her jaw tight. “Hurry up.”

“I am,” Lorrine replied, keeping her tone respectful.

Scar Face stood stationed outside the bedroom door, his posture straight, his eyes alert. He barely moved, listening to the sounds inside, listening to the hallway. His presence was solid, unmoving, like a wall.

Lorrine finished adjusting the nightie and stepped back. “There,” she said. “You’re done.”

Audrey didn’t respond. Her eyes were distant, fixed on nothing. Lorrine hesitated, then turned toward the door just as a knock sounded.

Scar Face straightened. “Yes?” he said through the door.

“It’s Tennessee,” a voice replied.

Scar Face opened the door slightly, his body blocking the view inside. “She’s inside,” he said evenly.

Tennessee nodded. “I know.”

Lorrine moved past Scar Face and opened the door wider. “I’ll leave you two,” she said, her eyes flicking briefly to Audrey before stepping out. Scar Face stepped aside to let Tennessee in, then remained outside as Tennessee entered the room. Tennessee closed the door behind him, the click loud in the quiet space.

Audrey immediately turned her head away. “Leave,” she said flatly.

Tennessee paused, looking at her. “I just came to check on you.”

“I said leave,” Audrey snapped.

He ignored the tone and walked closer, lowering himself to kneel in front of her wheelchair. “You’re tense,” he said quietly.

“That’s not your concern,” she replied.

He reached for her leg gently. Audrey stiffened. “Don’t touch me.”

“Just relax,” Tennessee said. “I’m not here to fight.”

“I don’t want you here,” she said, her voice sharp.

He began massaging her leg carefully, his touch firm but gentle, his movements slow and deliberate. Audrey clenched her fists, anger flashing across her face. “I said stop.”

But her body betrayed her. The tension eased despite her resistance, a small breath escaping her lips before she could stop it. Tennessee noticed and continued, his expression calm.

“You’ve been holding too much inside,” he said quietly.

“Don’t pretend you understand me,” Audrey shot back, though her voice had lost some of its edge.

“I don’t have to pretend,” he replied. “I can see it.”

She closed her eyes briefly, hating how good it felt, hating herself for letting it. “You think this fixes anything?”

“No,” Tennessee said honestly. “But it helps.”

Her anger simmered, but the massage loosened something deep in her muscles, something she hadn’t been able to release since the accident. Her breathing slowed despite herself.

“You should hate me,” she muttered.

He looked up at her. “I don’t.”

“That makes you stupid,” she said.

“Maybe,” he replied quietly.

He stood and carefully lifted her from the wheelchair, his movements controlled, practiced. Audrey gasped softly but didn’t resist, her body too tired, too worn. He placed her gently on the bed, adjusting her position before sitting beside her and beginning to massage her back slowly, his hands moving with care, with patience.

Audrey turned her face into the pillow, her anger still there, burning, but tangled now with exhaustion and something she didn’t want to name.