Davis allowed the men to push his wheelchair through several hallways, his focus on Jessica. He didn’t care about the number of turns they took or how long the journey seemed. All that mattered was reaching her.
It didn’t matter if his own life was at risk—because if she was lost to him, he wasn’t sure he could survive.
His fists remained clenched, his jaw tight, and his eyes dark with worry. The weight of the unknown gnawed at him, making every second feel like an eternity.
He didn’t want to imagine the possible scenario he might find her in. He didn’t want to wonder what her condition is like —seeing breathing is already enough.
Finally, they arrived at a closed door at the end of the hallway. The men accompanying him paused, knocked lightly, then pushed the door open, stepping aside for him to enter while they remained stationed at the entrance, standing guard.
Davis wheeled himself in and quickly scanned the room. Rows of medical equipment were meticulously arranged in order of usage, making the space resemble a top-tier ICU. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the air.
He felt cold all over, he had woken up in such a sterile ward lonely and helpless, it was in such a ward that he found his world crumbling. His body began reacting, his episode kicking in but no—
Jessica! Jessica!! He chanted in his heart. He can’t break down now. He don’t want her to feel lonely.
He closed his eyes momentarily, "Davis, calm down. Take a deep breath with me. You are not alone." the calm soothing voice of Jessica filtered through his subconscious.
By the time, he opened his eyes again, it had restored its focus and the haze pulled off. His gaze calm and more serene landed on Jessica.
The steady beeping of the heart monitor filled the room, a rhythmic sound that both reassured and tormented Davis. Jessica lay there motionless, pale but serene, her arm connected to an IV drip, her breathing steady but weak.
The bruises along her arms glaring on her fair skin, her hands carefully placed on her stomach with a blanket covering the remaining parts of her body.
Davis felt a sharp sting behind his eyes, but he willed himself not to shed tears. Crying wouldn’t help her—it wouldn’t change anything.
Slowly, he wheeled himself closer to the bed, his fingers trembled as he reached for hers. With meticulous attention he traced the delicate lines of her palm like a fortune teller, his gaze on her face as if he wants to rewrite her destiny.
Davis swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat as it tightened. He wanted to say something but no words could come forth.
"Baby?" His voice come out in a hoarse whisper of anguish that only the walls bore witness to. His tears falling rapidly. His hand holding hers in a firm, unrelenting grasp—as if by doing so, she wouldn’t slip away from him.
He had never felt this powerless. Never.
Jessica, had crashed into his life like a storm, had risked everything for him. She had fought for him, shielded him, and now... she lay unconscious, her body bearing the pain.
His chest hurt. He should have been the one protecting her.
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