Chapter 67 Eighteen Again
DAVID
The moment Bella’s name left my lips, it felt like the air had been sucked out of the world. My legs moved before my brain caught up, sprinting after her as the memory of Lizzy’s touch burned like acid on my skin. The streetlights above flickered faintly, casting jagged shadows as I stumbled forward.
“Bella!” I called, my voice raw and desperate. My heart pounded like a drum, fear clawing at my chest. Then I saw it headlights. A car hurtling toward her fragile frame, her silhouette frozen in its glare.
“NO!” The word tore from my throat, but the night swallowed it whole.
The screech of brakes came too late. The car hit her, the sound of the impact like thunder ripping through the stillness. Her body flew into the air, limp and weightless, before crashing back down with a sickening thud. The driver didn’t stop. The car sped away, its taillights vanishing into the darkness, leaving nothing but Bella’s crumpled figure on the cold pavement.
My knees buckled as I reached her. “Bella,” I choked out, dropping to my knees beside her. Her eyes were shut, her face pale, and blood pooled beneath her like a dark, unforgiving stain.
“Don’t do this to me,” I whispered, cradling her limp body in my arms. The metallic scent of blood filled the air, sharp and nauseating. I lifted her carefully, carrying her in a bridal style, my arms trembling under the weight of my guilt.
“Bring the car!” I roared, my voice echoing through the night. My bodyguards scrambled, the screech of tires signaling the car’s arrival. I climbed in, Bella still in my arms, and barked at the driver, “Straight to the hospital. Don’t stop for anything.”
I pulled my phone from my pocket, fingers shaking as I dialed. “Doctor Patel,” I said, my voice barely steady. “Prepare the emergency room. It’s Bella.”
The drive felt endless, each second dragging like a lifetime. I kept my eyes on her, willing her to move, to open her eyes, to say something anything.
When we finally arrived, the hospital staff was waiting, a flurry of white coats and urgent voices. They took her from me, disappearing behind double doors, leaving me standing alone, clutching at the air where she had just been.
Hours passed. Time felt meaningless as I paced the sterile waiting room. Every tick of the clock was a reminder of my failure. Finally, the doctor emerged, his face a mask of professional calm that only made my heart sink further.
“How is she?” I asked, my voice cracking.
“She’s stable,” he began, but the weight in his tone told me the worst was yet to come. “But she suffered brain trauma damage to the brain tissue.”
“What does that mean?” My chest tightened.
“She has memory loss. We’re not sure if she’ll recover.”
Memory loss. The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I staggered back, gripping the wall for support. A part of me felt an awful, selfish relief—if she couldn’t remember, maybe she wouldn’t hate me for what she’d seen. But another part of me, the part that still believed in redemption, felt an unbearable ache.
“Can I see her?”
The doctor nodded. “Yes, but be gentle. Her mind is fragile right now.”
I didn’t need to be told twice. I pushed through the door to her room, my heart in my throat. She lay there, so still, so fragile. Her head was wrapped in bandages, and the rhythmic hiss of the oxygen machine was the only sound in the room.
I sat beside her, taking her hand in mine. “Bella,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I’m so sorry. I never meant for this to happen. Please, come back to me.”
The door behind me creaked open, and I turned to see one of my bodyguards. “Sir,” he said hesitantly. “Lizzy is causing a scene at the house. What should we do?”
Lizzy. Her name made my blood boil. “Throw her out,” I snapped. “I don’t want her anywhere near me or Bella. Make sure she’s gone before I get back.”
The guard nodded and disappeared, leaving me alone again with Bella. I tightened my grip on her hand, lost in my thoughts.
Somewhere in the haze of exhaustion, I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, a scream jolted me awake.
I shot up, my eyes darting to Bella. She was sitting up in bed, her eyes wide with terror.
“Bella!” I rushed to her side, but she recoiled as if I’d struck her.
“Who are you?” she demanded, her voice sharp and frantic. “Stay away from me, old man!”
Old man? The words stung, but I swallowed my shock. “Bella, it’s me. I’m your husband.”
Her eyes narrowed in disbelief. “Husband? That’s impossible! I’m only 18 years old!”
She scrambled to the far side of the bed, her fear palpable. “You’re lying. Stay away from me, you… you pervert!”
“Bella,” I said gently, pulling out my phone. I scrolled to a picture of us on our wedding day and held it out to her. “Look. This is us.”
She stared at the screen, her face paling as her eyes darted between the photo and me. Then, without warning, she fainted.
“Doctor!” I shouted, slamming my hand against the emergency button.
The medical team rushed in, assessing her as I paced the room, my nerves frayed. After what felt like an eternity, the doctor turned to me.
“She’s fine,” he said, though his expression was grave. “But it seems she’s trying very hard not to remember you. She’s convinced she’s still 18.”
I let out a shaky breath, relief and despair mixing in equal measure.
“And one more thing,” the doctor added, his voice hesitant. “She’s pregnant.”
Pregnant. The word hit me like a hammer, shattering every coherent thought. My hands trembled, my breath uneven as I stared at the doctor, willing him to take it back.
How do I tell her she’s pregnant when she doesn’t even remember me when she thinks she’s a teenager?
And worse… what happens when she does remember?