CHAPTER 60 - She's a Fighter
The silence in the room felt like a crushing weight, suffocating and unrelenting. My hands were trembling so violently that I had to clutch the edge of the bed for stability. Jayden stood close…too close for my liking, but I didn’t have the strength or energy to push him away. All I could do was watch, helpless, as the doctors hovered over my child…our child…and prayed silently for a miracle.
“She’s desaturating,” one of the nurses said, her calm voice betraying the urgency in her movements. She adjusted the delicate oxygen tubes around Jade’s tiny face and prepared another piece of equipment, her hands moving with practiced precision.
“Administer 0.5 liters of oxygen,” the doctor instructed, his tone steady but firm.
“What’s happening?” I managed to choke out, my voice barely a whisper. I gripped the bed rail harder, my knuckles white with tension. “Why is this happening to her? I thought she was doing better.”
The doctor turned briefly to address me, his expression a mix of professionalism and understanding. “It’s not uncommon for premature infants to experience setbacks. Their lungs are underdeveloped, and sometimes they need a little extra support. This doesn’t mean she’s regressing; it’s just part of the process. We’re stabilizing her now.”
His explanation was logical, but logic didn’t soothe the panic that clawed at my chest. My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise, each shallow breath of Jade’s a dagger to my soul. She looked so fragile, her tiny body struggling against the odds. And there was nothing I could do to help her.
“Daphne.” Jayden’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts, soft but insistent. He stepped closer, his hand hovering near my back. “She’s strong. She’s going to pull through. We have to believe that.”
I turned to him sharply, anger bubbling to the surface. “Don’t,” I hissed, my voice trembling with the weight of my emotions. “Don’t pretend like you understand how I feel. You don’t know—you can’t know—what this feels like.”
His jaw tightened, but he didn’t back down. Instead, he reached out and took my hand in his. His grip was firm yet gentle, and for a fleeting moment, I didn’t pull away. Maybe it was exhaustion, or fear, or the simple need for human connection, but I let him hold my hand. Just for a moment.
Minutes stretched into what felt like hours. The beeping of monitors and the low murmur of the medical staff were the only sounds in the room, each one hammering against my frayed nerves. I felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for the ground beneath me to crumble.
Finally, the doctor straightened and turned to us. His expression softened slightly, and I clung to that sliver of hope like a lifeline.
“She’s stabilized now,” he said. “The oxygen helped, and her vitals are back to normal. She’s still very fragile and will require close monitoring, but for now, she’s stable.”
A sob burst from my lips, unbidden and uncontrollable. Relief swept over me so quickly that my knees buckled. Before I could hit the ground, Jayden caught me, his arms wrapping around me in a protective embrace. I wanted to pull away, to reject his comfort, but my body betrayed me, leaning into his strength as I tried to steady my breathing.
“Thank you,” I whispered to the doctor, my voice thick with emotion. “Thank you so much.”
He nodded kindly. “She’s a fighter, Mrs. Horton. Take comfort in that. But you need to take care of yourself too. You’ve been through a lot, and your body needs rest. Stress isn’t good for you or for her.”
I flinched at the title, Mrs. Horton. It didn’t feel right, not when this marriage was nothing more than a hollow agreement. But now wasn’t the time to dwell on that. My daughter needed me, and that was all that mattered.
The medical staff left the room, leaving the three of us alone. Jade was back in her incubator, her chest rising and falling steadily. The sight should have calmed me, but instead, it only reminded me of how precarious her situation was. She was still so vulnerable, and the fear of losing her was a constant, gnawing ache.
“She really is a fighter,” Jayden said softly, his voice breaking the silence. “Just like her mother.”
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. My emotions were too raw, my mind too tangled to form coherent words. Instead, I stepped closer to the incubator, placing a hand on the glass. The warmth of the glass felt like a faint barrier between us, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted to hold her, to shield her from everything that could hurt her, but I knew I couldn’t.
“She doesn’t deserve this,” I murmured, more to myself than to Jayden. “She didn’t ask for this life. She didn’t ask for…any of this.”
Jayden stepped closer, his presence a heavy weight at my side. “Daphne,” he began, his voice hesitant. “I know I’ve hurt you. I know I’ve done things I can’t take back, but…”
I cut him off with a sharp glare. “Stop acting like you care,” I snapped. “There’s no one here to see you, no cameras to keep up appearances. So quit the act.”
“It’s not an act,” he said quietly, his eyes locking onto mine. “Daphne, I know I’ve been a terrible person. I know I’ve hurt you in ways I’ll never be able to make up for. I was angry and selfish and scared. I hated the way you made me feel…how much I cared about you. And instead of facing that, I pushed you away. I made mistakes. But everything I’ve done, everything I’ve said…I regret all of it.”
I shook my head, unwilling to let his words sink in. “You don’t get to do this now,” I said, my voice trembling. “You don’t get to stand here and pretend you’re some wounded soul who just made a few bad choices. You lied to me. You used me. And now, what? You expect me to forgive you? To fall into your arms and act like none of it happened?”
“No,” he said, his voice breaking. “I don’t expect that. I don’t deserve that. But I’m begging you to let me try. For her. For Jade.”
At the sound of her name, I faltered. My anger was a shield, but it wasn’t impenetrable. My gaze flickered to the incubator, to the tiny life that bound us together in ways I couldn’t ignore.
“Jayden, can you…” Before I could complete my sentence, a wave of dizziness washed over me. My vision blurred, and my head began to bang badly, my ears ringing. Instinctively, I took my hands to my head and I felt my body give way, my eyes forcing themselves to shut out light. Before I could feel the pain of me landing on the floor, Jayden caught me, “Daphne are you okay? Daphne?" He said, shaking me then my eyes closed shut, shutting out the brightness but I could still hear Jayden's voice call for a doctor and then I felt him carrying me out of the ward, as every sound around me trailed off before I completely blacked out.