Chapter 152

Chapter 152
Clara’s POV

“Ma’am.”

The voice cut through the noise, but it didn’t reach me right away. It felt distant, like it was coming from underwater, muffled beneath the pounding in my ears.

“Ma’am, I need you to step back.”

I blinked, my vision struggling to refocus. The wreck was still in front of me, twisted metal and shattered glass, but now there was a figure standing between me and it. A police officer. Speaking. Waiting.

I swallowed, my throat dry. “The driver,” I said, my voice barely forming the words. “Where is she?”

The officer studied me for a moment, taking in my state, the way I was barely holding myself upright.
“They’ve already transported her to the hospital,” he said carefully.

My chest tightened. “Which hospital?”

“Saint Mary’s.”

Alive.

He didn’t say it, but the fact that she had been transported meant—

“She’s alive?” I asked, the question breaking out of me before I could stop it.

He hesitated just a fraction. “She was when they took her.”

The words should have steadied me. They didn’t. They lodged somewhere deep, fragile and uncertain.
“I need to go,” I said, stepping forward, but the ground felt uneven beneath me.

The officer moved slightly, not blocking me, but not entirely stepping aside either. “Ma’am, are you able to drive?”

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, too quickly. “I just— I need to get to her. She’s my—” My voice faltered. Saying it suddenly felt too heavy, too real. “She’s my girlfriend.”

Something in his expression softened.

“I understand,” he said. “But you’re shaken. I need to know you can get there safely.”

“I can,” I insisted. My hands were still trembling, my pulse erratic, but none of that mattered. Nothing mattered except getting to her. “I can drive.”

He held my gaze for a second longer, like he was weighing whether to argue, whether to stop me. Then he stepped back.

“Alright,” he said. “But take a moment. Just… breathe before you get behind the wheel.”

I nodded, even though I didn’t.

I turned away from the wreck, forcing my legs to move, each step feeling disconnected from my body.

My car was where I’d left it, door still open, engine still running.

I gripped the door frame, grounding myself for half a second.

Alive.

She was alive.

That had to be enough.

I slid into the driver’s seat, my hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white. For a moment, I just sat there, staring ahead, trying to gather something resembling control.

You don’t get to fall apart right now.

I exhaled sharply and pulled into traffic, barely registering the movement around me as I merged back onto the road. The sirens faded behind me, replaced by the low hum of the city, but the sound in my chest didn’t quiet.

Every red light felt unbearable. Every slow-moving car in front of me felt like an obstacle I wanted to push through.

My phone buzzed on the passenger seat.

Mia.

I glanced at it, hesitating for half a second before hitting accept.

“Clara?” her voice came through immediately, tight with worry. “What’s going on?”

“There was an accident,” I said, the words mechanical, like I was reporting on someone else’s life. “It’s her car.”

Silence.

Then, “Is she—”

“She’s alive,” I cut in quickly. I needed that to be true. I needed to say it like it was solid, not fragile. “They took her to Saint Mary’s.”

“Oh my God,” Mia breathed. “We’re coming.”

George didn’t even speak. I could hear movement on their end, urgency, keys, a door slamming.

“Clara—” Mia started.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” I said, already hanging up before she could ask anything else.

The hospital came into view too slowly, the building rising ahead like something immovable, inevitable. I pulled into the emergency entrance, braking harder than necessary, and stepped out before the car had fully settled.

Inside, everything was too bright. Too clean. Too controlled.

“Excuse me,” I said, approaching the front desk, my voice tight, barely steady. “There was an accident. She was brought in from a car crash. Ayleen—”

The nurse was already typing. “Name?”

“Ayleen Hart.”

A pause. Then something in her expression shifted. Not relief. Not calm.

Recognition.

“Yes,” she said. “She’s here.”

My heart slammed against my ribs. “Can I see her?”

The nurse hesitated this time, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. “She’s currently in surgery.”

The words didn’t register at first.

“In… surgery?” I repeated, slower, like if I said it carefully enough it might make more sense.

“Yes,” she said gently. “She was brought in with multiple injuries. They took her in immediately.”
Something in my chest collapsed inward.

“How bad?” I asked, my voice quieter now, stripped of everything but fear.

“I’m not authorized to give full details,” she replied, her tone softening. “But the surgical team is with her now.”

I nodded once, even though it felt like my body wasn’t fully mine anymore. “Where do I wait?”

She gestured down the hallway. “End of the corridor. Family waiting area.”

Family.

I didn’t question it this time.

I walked without really feeling the ground beneath me, each step mechanical, disconnected. The hallway stretched too long, fluorescent lights buzzing faintly overhead. Everything smelled like antiseptic and something colder, something that didn’t belong to life.

I reached the waiting area and stopped just inside the doorway.

Empty.

Too empty.

I sat down slowly, my hands coming together in my lap without instruction. They were still shaking, but I barely noticed anymore. My mind kept replaying one thing.

She’s in surgery.

Not stable. Not resting. Not conscious.

Surgery.

I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, pressing my fingers against my temples like I could force my thoughts into order. But they wouldn’t line up. They scattered, fractured, slipping through my grasp.

You left her.

The thought came back, sharper this time.

You left her alone.

I squeezed my eyes shut, my jaw tightening.

No. Not now. I couldn’t afford to fall apart now.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway.

Fast. Unsteady.

I looked up just as Mia appeared in the doorway, George right behind her. She spotted me immediately and rushed forward, her face pale, eyes wide.

“Clara—” she breathed.

“She’s in surgery,” I said before she could ask.

The words felt foreign even as I said them.

Mia stopped short, her hand flying to her mouth. George froze beside her, his expression going blank for a second before it cracked with something darker.

“Surgery?” he repeated.

I nodded once. “They took her in as soon as she got here.”

Silence fell over the three of us, heavy and suffocating.

Mia slowly lowered herself into the chair beside me, her shoulder brushing mine. “She’s strong,” she said, but her voice wavered. “She’ll be okay.”

I didn’t answer.

I couldn’t.

George exhaled sharply. “Jesus…”

Mia reached for my hand then, squeezing it tightly. “We’re here,” she said. “We’re not going anywhere.”

I nodded, but my eyes stayed fixed on the hallway.

On the doors that had taken her away from me.