Chapter 50 BETWEEN LIFE AND LOSS
Chapter 50 BETWEEN LIFE AND LOSS
Rowan's POV
The phone started ringing while I was staring at the ceiling, counting cracks like they were going to tell me how badly I’d messed up my life.
Althea’s name lit up my screen.
My heart jumped first. Then it sank.
She had said she was leaving. Said she was done. Said she couldn’t deal with me anymore. I’d replayed her words so many times they felt carved into my chest. Still, seeing her name felt like hope sneaking back in without permission.
I grabbed the phone.
“Althea—”
But her voice didn’t answer.
Instead, there was noise. Loud, chaotic noise. A sharp sound that cut through the air again and again. I recognized it instantly.
Sirens.
My grip tightened. “Who is this?” I asked, my voice already shaking.
There was a pause. Then a man spoke, calm but serious, like he was choosing his words carefully.
“Sir, the owner of this phone has been involved in an accident.”
Everything in my body froze.
“What?” I whispered. “What do you mean accident?”
“I’m calling because her phone was unlocked,” the man continued. “This was the screen that was open. I assumed this was someone important.”
My heart started beating so fast it felt like it was trying to escape my chest. “Is she okay?” I asked. “Where is she?”
He gave me details. Too many. Street names. Landmarks. Words that blurred together because all I could hear was one thing over and over.
Accident. Accident. Accident.
“I’m coming,” I said, already moving. “I’m coming right now.”
I didn’t even wait for him to respond before ending the call.
I grabbed my keys and ran.
I don’t remember locking the door. I don’t remember starting the car. I only remember driving like nothing else mattered. Traffic lights were suggestions. Speed limits were jokes. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely keep the wheel steady.
I kept seeing her face.
Angry. Hurt. Crying by the pool last night while I stood there like an idiot, asking the wrong questions and saying nothing that mattered.
I should’ve stopped her.
I should’ve explained.
I should’ve told her the truth.
A siren flashed behind me.
I didn’t care.
A police car pulled me over, lights blazing. I slammed the brakes and jumped out before the officer could even speak.
“Sir, you were speeding—”
“My wife is hurt,” I said, even though the word wife wasn’t true. But it felt true in my chest. “Please. She’s been in an accident. Arrest me later. Just let me go.”
He looked at my face, at the panic written all over me, and for a second, something shifted.
“Drive safely,” he said finally. “Go.”
I didn’t thank him. I just got back in the car and drove.
The hospital lights were too bright. Too white. Everything smelled like fear and disinfectant. I ran through the entrance, shouting her name like that alone could pull her back to me.
“Althea!” I yelled. “Althea!”
A nurse tried to stop me. “Sir, please—”
“I need to see her,” I said. “Please.”
They led me down a hallway that felt longer than it should’ve been. My legs felt heavy, like they didn’t want to carry me to whatever was waiting at the end.
Then I saw her.
She was lying still on a bed, a cloth covering her head.
“No,” I said, my voice breaking. “No, no, no, no.”
I rushed forward, my hands shaking as I pulled the cloth away.
Her face was pale. Too still. Too quiet.
“Althea,” I whispered, then louder, “Althea, please.”
Nothing.
My knees gave out and I grabbed the side of the bed to keep from falling. “You can’t leave me like this,” I said, tears blurring my vision. “Please. I need you to come back. I need you.”
There was no response.
Doctors gently pulled me away. Words like we tried and I’m sorry floated around me, but none of them made sense.
“She’s gone,” someone said.
Gone.
The word felt unreal. Like they were talking about someone else. Like this wasn’t my life cracking open in front of me.
They took her away.
I followed them like a shadow, begging, arguing, promising anything.
“Please,” I said to a doctor, my voice hoarse. “Do something. Anything.”
“We’re sorry, sir,” he said softly. “There’s nothing more we can do.”
I felt hollow. Like someone had scooped out my insides and left me standing there.
“Can I see her one last time?” I asked.
They hesitated, then nodded.
The room was cold. Quiet. She lay there like she was sleeping, like she might open her eyes and roll them at me for being dramatic.
I stepped closer and placed my hand gently on her forehead.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I should’ve fought harder. I should’ve told you everything.”
I leaned down and kissed her forehead, my lips lingering like I was afraid letting go would make this real.
As I turned to leave, defeated, broken, finished—
“Rowan.”
The sound was faint. So faint I almost thought I imagined it.
I froze.
I turned back slowly.
Her eyes were barely open. Just a sliver. But they were open.
“Althea?” I choked.
I screamed for the doctors like my life depended on it. Like her life depended on it.
“They’re alive!” I shouted. “She’s alive!”
Everything exploded into movement. Doctors rushed in. Machines beeped. Orders were shouted. They moved her fast, pushing her bed down the hallway.
“She’s responding,” one of them said. “This is—this is a miracle.”
They transferred her to intensive care. Tubes. Monitors. So many wires, but she was breathing.
Alive.
I sank into a chair outside the room, my hands over my face, tears finally falling freely.
I almost lost her.
And standing there, watching her chest rise and fall through the glass, I understood something with painful clarity.
I never stopped loving her.
Not for a second.
And if she woke up… if I was given one more chance—
I wasn’t going to waste it again.