Chapter 66 Good things happen to Good people
Chapter 66 Good things happen to Good people
He sat on a vinyl chair by the corridor, hands braced on his knees. For a long stretch of time he did nothing but stare at the linoleum and the sliding doors of ward rooms .His thoughts tumbled fear first, then the sour acid of guilt, then anger that recoiled in on itself. He wanted to see Zara, to hold her hand and command her to wake up. But the knowledge of the damage of the bullet lodged somewhere it would not belong made his feet feel leaden.
His mother found him there. She wore the worried sternness of someone who had watched a son spin away from safety. She crossed to him and wrapped him in an embrace that smelled faintly of lavender and patience. For the first beat he did not return it. He allowed her arm to rest on his shoulder and felt nothing but the hollow ache.
“Are you okay?” she asked softly, and the question was more a fragile thread thrown across a chasm than a real inquiry.
“Everything is happening because of that girl,” she said suddenly, voice sharp with an old, tired blame. “How I wish she didn’t enter your life ”
Adrian’s hand rose without thought, a small, furious thing. “Stop this,” he snapped, sharper than he’d meant. “Stop blaming her for everything.” He heard his voice and knew the edge was too keen. He tried to climb back from it; tried to be the kind of son who would not lash at the people who loved him.
His mother flinched, eyes wide with the hurt he’d carved into her, but then Adrian said the thing that staggered them both. “She took a bullet for me.” The words were small and explosive at once, a confession that felt like a benediction and a condemnation. “That’s why she is in danger now.”
The recognition on his mother’s face was immediate shock, then sorrow, then the iron-hard shape of a new, unwelcome understanding. She had been blaming the wrong target. She had been chasing a phantom of cause instead of seeing the bleeding thing in front of them all.
Find place in your heart to be more reasonable with your words, he’d wanted to say and in some poor, blunt way he did. He could not ask her to forgive what had happened. He could not undo the bullet or the trembling accusation from a father who had lost his bearings. He could only plead, in the only way left that made sense to him: with the truth that yawned between them like an open grave.
He rose then, slowly, the weight of his own body a physical thing he had to haul up. He left his mother in the corridor, her face stunned.When Adrian returned to Zara’s room, his heart froze. For a moment, he couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing her body was trembling violently, rising and falling against the bed as if she were fighting invisible hands pulling her away.
“Zara…” His voice cracked. Panic seized him. “Zara, stay with me please, don’t do this, wait just hold on!”
Before he could move closer, Isabella sprinted past him, shouting for the nurses. Adrian rushed to Zara’s side, helplessly gripping her hand, his breath uneven. Her skin felt cold, her pulse faint. “Zara, it’s me,” he whispered desperately, his voice trembling. “Please, you’re stronger than this. Don’t go.”
The door burst open as nurses flooded in, their faces tight with urgency. “Sir, please step out,” one of them ordered, already pulling machines closer. Adrian hesitated, his hand still clinging to Zara’s, until another nurse gently but firmly guided him out.
He stumbled into the corridor where Isabella met him, tears streaming down her cheeks. Without a word, she threw her arms around him. Adrian held her tightly, his heart hammering against his ribs. The sterile hallway filled with the sounds of hurried footsteps, beeping monitors, and muffled commands from inside Zara’s room.
Moments later, Alaric appeared, breathless and pale. “What’s happening?” he demanded, his voice trembling with fear.
“She… she got worse,” Isabella stammered, her words dissolving into sobs. “Out of nowhere, she just ”
Alaric’s expression broke. His eyes glistened as he leaned against the wall, whispering a shaky prayer under his breath, his lips moving without sound. Adrian couldn’t bring himself to speak. He just stared at the floor, fists clenched, silently begging whatever higher power existed to let her live.
The minutes stretched painfully, every sound from behind that hospital door echoing like a verdict. Then, finally, the doctor emerged, exhaustion etched across his face.
“She’s stabilized again,” he said, his tone calm but firm. “Nothing of the sort is going to happen again, but…” he paused, his gaze softening, “it’s going to take her time to heal. The bullet caused more damage than we initially thought.”
A collective breath escaped the group, a fragile sigh of relief. Isabella covered her mouth, tears of gratitude spilling over, while Alaric closed his eyes, murmuring another prayer this time in thanks.
Alaric quietly entered his daughter’s room, his footsteps slow, reverent. Adrian stayed behind, staring at the closed door, afraid to step in. He knew Alaric still blamed him, and perhaps he deserved that.
“Adrian,” Isabella said gently, touching his arm. “Go and rest. You haven’t slept.”
He shook his head. “No. I can’t. Not until I know she’s safe.”
“Then neither will I,” Isabella replied softly, settling beside him. “Zara needs us now both of us.”
He didn’t argue. For the first time in hours, he let his guard fall. Isabella leaned her head against his shoulder, her voice quiet and sincere.
“Don’t worry, Adrian,” she whispered. “Zara’s going to be okay. Good things happen to good people. Nothing bad will take her away from us.”
Her words washed over him like a fragile kind of peace one he hadn’t known he’d been craving. And as he sat there in that dim hospital corridor, listening to the faint hum of machines beyond the door, Adrian finally allowed himself to hope.