Chapter 151 He Was Simply... Waiting

Chapter 151 He Was Simply... Waiting
Aria's POV

I stood frozen in the hospital corridor, still reeling from the explosive confrontation I'd just witnessed.

The air crackled with tension after Victor's punch had connected with his father's jaw, after Rowan had released his grip on Mrs. Sterling's throat, after everything had spiraled into chaos.

The surgery was already finished when I came out. My colleague asked me to come out first to update the family while they wrapped things up. But if I'd known I'd walk into this scene, I would've stayed inside.

Rowan was turning away from his family, his shoulders rigid with barely contained emotion, when the ICU doors suddenly hissed open behind us.

Everything stopped.

A team of medical staff emerged, wheeling Ava on a gurney toward the private wing. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of her.

Tubes snaked from every part of her pale, fragile body, and monitors beeped weakly beside her. She looked so small, so broken, like a porcelain doll that had been shattered and hastily pieced back together.

The moment Rowan saw her, his entire demeanor crumbled. The man who had just been defending himself against his family's accusations became something else entirely—a broken soul witnessing his world fall apart.

He immediately rushed to her side, his powerful frame trembling as he reached for her hand. The sound that escaped him wasn't human—it was raw, primal grief that seemed to tear from the very depths of his soul.

"Ava, please," he sobbed, his voice cracking with desperation. "Please don't leave me. Don't leave me, I'm begging you. Please, just... please stay with me."

The other healers around us shifted uncomfortably, their eyes downcast. None of us knew what to say. What could anyone say in the face of such devastating loss?

We could only stand there and bear witness to a man completely falling apart.

Mrs. Sterling, still flushed from their earlier confrontation, stared at her husband in horror and disgust.

"Look at yourself," she whispered, but her voice carried down the sterile hallway. "This is how you choose to show everyone what matters to you? Crying over her right in front of your own family?"

Her voice broke on the last words, years of pain and betrayal finally spilling over.

Rowan barely acknowledged her. His gaze remained fixed on Ava's unconscious form as he spoke in a voice devoid of emotion. "There's been nothing between us for years, Ceilia. You know that."

The sound of his wife's name on his lips, spoken with such detached finality, seemed to cut deeper than any physical blow could have.

"Dad," Victor's voice was thick with hurt and anger, his knuckles still raw from the punch he'd thrown moments before. "We still call you that. We still think of you as our father. And you're willing to be thrown out of our pack—thrown away from everything—just to be with her? I don't understand."

For the first time since Ava had appeared, Rowan turned his attention to his son. His eyes were hollow, haunted.

"Do you think feelings are something I can control, Victor?" he asked quietly. "Do you think I chose this?"

Marcus stepped forward, his face still flushed with fury from the earlier confrontation. "You've dishonored this family. You've embarrassed us all."

I need to leave, I thought desperately. I felt like I was intruding on something intensely private.

As their former daughter-in-law, I occupied this strange, uncomfortable space between family and outsider. I wasn't supposed to be here for this, but I wasn't sure if leaving would make things worse.

Around me, the Sterling family continued to disintegrate. Some were crying openly, others fighting back tears, their faces twisted with the effort of maintaining composure. The air was thick with years of accumulated resentment and pain that had finally burst to the surface.

I looked at Marcus, whose usually composed demeanor had turned frightening after witnessing his father's breakdown.

I watched Victor struggle between loyalty to his mother and a grudging sympathy for his father. And Celia—the proud and dignified Mrs. Sterling—stood there with tears streaming down her face.

I took two hesitant steps toward the exit, hoping to slip away unnoticed.

"Aria." Rowan's voice stopped me in my tracks. "Could you... could you help me get Ava settled in her room? I don't want to fight with them anymore."

I turned back, meeting his desperate gaze, and nodded silently. What else could I do?

The moment I agreed, I felt the weight of three sets of eyes on us—Victor's confusion, Mrs. Sterling's anger, and Marcus's unreadable stare. The tension in the air was suffocating.

Moon God, this is awkward, I thought, heat creeping up my neck. I didn't know what to say, how to act, or where to look. Every movement felt magnified, every breath too loud.

I cleared my throat softly and gestured to the other healers. "Let's... let's get her to the private wing."

We formed a small procession down the hallway—Rowan walking beside Ava's gurney, the healers guiding the medical equipment, and me trailing behind, feeling more out of place with every step. Behind us, I could hear the quiet sobs and angry whispers of the Sterling family members who remained.

When we reached the private medical wing, Ava was transferred to a spacious room equipped with all the monitoring equipment she needed.

The machines continued their steady rhythm, but she remained unconscious, lost in whatever darkness claimed her.

Rowan stood at her bedside, his hand hovering over hers as if afraid to touch her and somehow make things worse.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," he said quietly, not taking his eyes off Ava's face.

I shook my head, unsure what to say. The man before me was nothing like the intimidating patriarch I'd known. He looked broken, aged decades in the span of hours.

He sighed deeply, a sound that seemed to come from his very soul. "I never meant for any of this to happen. For my family to fall apart like this."

I stood there for a moment longer, watching him watch her, feeling the weight of his grief and regret. But there were no words that could heal this kind of pain. No comfort I could offer that would matter.

So I left quietly, my footsteps echoing down the empty corridor.

When I returned to work the next morning, I was shocked to find Rowan still there. He was sitting in the same chair beside Ava's door, his clothes wrinkled, his hair disheveled. He looked like he hadn't moved, hadn't eaten, hadn't slept.

He was simply... waiting.