Chapter 59
The cool morning air hit Alex like a slap as he stepped out of the hospital’s front entrance. The city stirred around him, indifferent to his turmoil. Engines hummed, conversations floated through the air, and the faint scent of street vendors brewing coffee wafted by. Yet Alex felt untethered, like he existed in a world apart—a world carved out by the weight of Emma’s words.
There is no ‘us.’
The finality of her voice reverberated through him, sharper and more devastating than any accusation or argument they had ever had. He could still see the look in her eyes: not just anger, but betrayal. Not just pain, but the cold clarity of someone who had made up her mind.
He stood on the sidewalk, motionless, his head bowed, his hands buried deep in his pockets. The ache in his chest was unbearable, the kind that constricted his lungs and made each breath feel like a punishment. He had pleaded with her, tried to explain, to offer her a piece of his heart in hopes that it might bridge the chasm he had created. But she had refused, her voice steady, her gaze unwavering.
Alex finally moved, his steps heavy as he walked toward the parking lot. Each step brought memories he couldn’t escape. He remembered the way Emma’s laugh used to light up even the darkest days, how her determination inspired him to be better, how her touch had always calmed the storms inside him.
But those memories now felt cruel, like they belonged to someone else’s life—a life he had let slip through his fingers. Sliding into the driver’s seat of his car, he closed the door and rested his head against the steering wheel. For a moment, he sat in silence, the muted sounds of the waking city pressing against the glass.
He thought of the nights he had spent justifying his choices—pulling away, keeping secrets, telling himself it was all for Emma’s safety. But now, in the glaring light of day, those justifications felt hollow. Every decision he had made in her name had done nothing but alienate her further, to the point where she no longer believed him capable of love.
His hands gripped the wheel, the leather biting into his palms as he fought to contain the frustration that boiled inside him.
“Hell, I thought I was really doing this all for her safety,” he muttered, his voice breaking in the confines of the car. “Thought I was doing the right thing.”
But he hadn’t protected Emma. He had failed her in the worst way possible—by becoming the very thing she needed protection from.
The image of Sophia’s smug face flashed in his mind, and he slammed his fist against the dashboard. He hadn’t wanted anything from Sophia, but his failure to draw clear boundaries had given Emma every reason to believe otherwise. The thought of her standing outside his office that night, seeing something that must have felt like a betrayal, made him want to claw his own skin.
He exhaled sharply, leaning back in his seat and staring up at the ceiling of the car. The fight had drained him, but more than that, it had left him hollow. For the first time in his life, Alex felt truly powerless. Every resource, every ounce of influence, every plan he had meticulously crafted to protect Emma meant nothing now.
She didn’t want his protection.
She didn’t want him.
Not anymore.
The twins. His breath hitched as the reality of their fragility settled over him. Right now, his children were fighting for their lives in the NICU, and he had barely seen them. The father they didn’t even know yet had failed them, too. He had missed their first moments, their first cries—moments he could never get back.
This wasn’t just about Emma anymore; it was about the family he had so desperately wanted to build with her. And now, that family seemed to be slipping through his grasp, piece by fragile piece.
Alex started the car but didn’t move, his hands resting heavily on the steering wheel. His mind churned with regret, but regret wasn’t enough. He had spent too long trying to orchestrate Emma’s life, too long trying to manage her pain without truly understanding it. If he had any chance of fixing this—of being the man Emma and the children needed—it would take more than apologies and promises.
But as the city buzzed around him, indifferent to his anguish, Alex realized that he didn’t know if he could ever regain her trust—or if he even deserved to.
* * *
Emma lay motionless, her body aching and her spirit shattered. The faint beeping of the machines monitoring her vitals punctuated the silence, each sound a cruel reminder of how fragile everything had become. Sunlight crept hesitantly across the walls, but its warmth couldn’t reach her. She felt numb, hollow, as if the light itself was mocking her brokenness.
Her gaze remained fixed on the ceiling, though her mind was far from still. Waves of emotions crashed within her—anger, sadness, guilt, and a gnawing ache she couldn’t name. Each feeling pulled her in a different direction, leaving her paralyzed.
Alex’s face haunted her. The desperation in his voice, the way his eyes had pleaded for forgiveness.
I love you, he had said.
Those words echoed in her mind, twisting the knife in her chest.
A part of her wanted to believe him. To believe that his love was genuine, that it could somehow mend the gaping wound between them. But love wasn’t enough—not anymore.
Her mind drifted to the nights she had spent alone, the fear that had gripped her throughout her pregnancy, and the terror of bringing her twins into the world too soon. She had begged silently for strength, for support. But Alex had been nowhere. His absence had only deepened the cracks in her foundation, each missed moment, each broken promise carving its place in her heart.
Now, even as he claimed he had acted to protect her, his actions felt like betrayal. The weight of it crushed her. She had faced her darkest days without him, and now his pleas to return felt like too little, too late.
Tears welled in her eyes, but she quickly wiped them away.
She didn’t want to cry over him anymore.
She couldn’t afford to.
Her focus needed to be on her recovery, on the twins fighting for their lives in the NICU. They were her priority now—her reason to keep going.
A soft knock at the door pulled Emma from her thoughts. She turned her head to see Thomas stepping inside, a coffee cup in hand and a warm, steady presence in the otherwise sterile room.
“Hey,” he said softly, offering her a small smile. “Thought you might need this.”
Emma managed a faint smile in return as he handed her the cup. “Thanks.”
Thomas settled into the chair beside her bed, his gaze gentle but watchful. “How are you holding up?”
She sighed, cradling the warm cup in her hands. “I don’t know. Everything just… feels like way too much.”
Thomas nodded, his expression understanding. “It’s a lot, Emma. More than anyone should have to handle. You’ve already made it this far.”
His words were meant to comfort her, and they did—at least a little. But they also reminded her of the lingering ache in her chest, the unresolved feelings she still carried for Alex.
“Alex was here in the morning,” she said quietly, her voice almost a whisper.
Thomas’s posture stiffened slightly, though his expression remained calm. “I figured he’d show up eventually.”
“I told him to leave,” Emma continued, her gaze fixed on the steam rising from her coffee. “I told him I wanted the divorce finalized. But…”
Thomas waited, his silence encouraging her to continue.
“But it still hurts,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “After everything he’s done, after all the pain he’s caused… it still hurts.”
Thomas’s brow furrowed, his hand resting lightly on the armrest of her bed.
“That’s normal, Emma. You loved him. Love like that doesn’t just disappear, no matter how much someone hurts you.”
Emma sat silently, her fingers tracing the rim of her tea mug as the weight of her thoughts pressed down on her. Across from her, Thomas watched her with the same quiet patience that had been his constant through all of this chaos. His steady presence was a balm to her fractured heart, a reminder that even amidst the wreckage, there was something solid to lean on.
She looked up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“How do I move on from this, Thomas? How do I let go of everything—of the pain, the anger, the guilt?” Her voice trembled, laced with a vulnerability she rarely allowed herself to show.
Thomas hesitated, his jaw tightening as he considered his response. Then he leaned forward, his voice soft but firm.
“One step at a time, Emma. And you don’t have to do it alone.”
His words hung in the air, their meaning as much a promise as an offer. Emma’s heart tightened, the wall she’d carefully constructed around her emotions beginning to crack. Thomas had been her anchor through so much—his quiet strength a lifeline she hadn’t realized she needed until it was the only thing keeping her afloat.
“I don’t know if I’m ready,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. She looked down, afraid to meet his eyes, afraid of the honesty she might see reflected there.
Thomas reached across the table, his hand resting lightly on hers.
“That’s okay,” he said gently. “You don’t have to be ready. There’s no rush, no timeline. You’ve already carried so much by yourself. Let me help. Let me be with you.”
The tenderness in his voice made her throat tighten. She met his gaze, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she felt a flicker of hope—a fragile but undeniable warmth in the hollow spaces of her heart.
