Chapter 34 Emily
I’m fighting to keep my eyes open over dinner with Andrew. The atmosphere is cozy with scented candles giving it a romantic atmosphere and soft music playing in the background.
I’d thought that a warm shower would rejuvenate me but it had the opposite effect. I’m dog tired. Spending all morning with the doctors, desperate for answers and not getting any.
Andrew reaches across the table. “Is it my company or my restaurant choice? You look like you’re fighting to keep your eyes open.”
I shake my head. “Neither. You’re the best company. I’m just tired.” A yawn escapes my mouth.
Andrew’s words catch me off guard. “You’ve been tired a lot lately,” he says, his tone light but laced with a hint of concern. “Maybe you’re… you know… pregnant?”
I freeze, my heart pounding in my chest. Pregnant? He thinks I’m pregnant. Hysterical laughter bubbles up my throat but I push it down.
I really have to tell him. There’s no right time for this. I can’t hide anymore. Keeping this huge secret from Andrew is the worst thing I’ve ever done in my life.
My heart pumps hard in my chest. “I’m not pregnant.” I say then meet his gaze. “But there’s something I need to tell you.” I inhale deeply. Oh God. I’m going to be sick.
He meets my gaze with trusting, worried eyes.
How will he react when he finds out that I’ve been lying to him all this time? That my father has not been traveling but has been lying in a coma at home.
“Tell me Emily,” Andrew says in a soft voice. “Whatever it is, we can figure it out together. I’m your husband. For better, for worse, remember?”
His words bring tears to my eyes .
I open my mouth, ready to finally confess everything, to tell him the truth I’ve buried for so long. But just as the words begin to form, my phone rings, shattering the moment.
I glance at the screen, and my heart drops. It’s my mother.
“Emily,” she says, her voice panicked and raw. “You have to come. It’s your father. Please, come to the hospital.”
The line goes dead. I stare at my phone, the words echoing in my mind, paralyzing me.
“Emily?” Andrew’s voice pulls me back to the present. I push myself up from the table, nearly knocking over my chair in my haste.
“I have to go,” I manage, my voice shaking.
Andrew stands too, his expression darkening with concern. “I’m coming with you. Wherever you’re going.”
“Okay,” I whisper, too overwhelmed to argue or find an excuse. There’s no hiding now, no more sidestepping the truth. All I can do is get to my father.
I wait for Andrew outside his car as he settles the bill. I fish out my phone from my purse and immediately call Lisa. She answers on the first ring as if she can sense my need for her.
“I just got a call to go to the hospital,” I tell her, gripping the phone tightly. “I’m scared Lis.”
“I’m coming too,” she says and I can hear her moving around. “Everything will be okay.”
I spot Andrew and say a hurried goodbye to Lisa. What am I going to tell him now? How do I explain why we’re going to a hospital? I can’t deal with it now.
He unlocks the car and without waiting for him to open the door for me, I do it myself and enter, buckling my seatbelt.
As I wait for Andrew to do the same, I struggle to hold back my panic. I feel Andrew’s eyes on me, searching for answers I’m not ready to give, but I can barely process anything beyond my mother’s words. In a dull voice, I manage to give him the name of the hospital .
He starts the engine without another word, his jaw clenched in concentration. Silence blankets the car as we drive through the city, the hum of the engine and the occasional soft honk of distant traffic the only sounds.
My hands are twisted together in my lap, fingers digging into my palms as I replay the call in my head.
Is he worse? Has there been another stroke? The doctors warned us it was possible, especially with how long he’s been in this state.
Andrew reaches over, gently prying one of my hands free from its grip. He holds it tightly, grounding me, his warmth calming my racing thoughts even though he has no idea what’s going on.
“It’s going to be okay,” he says, his voice steady and reassuring.
Luckily, at this time of evening, there are a lot of parking spaces and we get one right near the entrance. I don’t know what Andrew is thinking as he races after me.
The sterile lights of the hospital blur as I rush through the doors, Andrew at my side. I barely register the receptionist’s quick glance in our direction as I head straight to the elevators.
My heart pounds, each beat heavy with dread. The elevator ride to the fifth floor feels excruciatingly slow, the quiet hum doing nothing to soothe my panic.
As soon as the doors open, I’m out, practically running down the hallway. I see my mother, standing in the corner, her shoulders shaking. As I close the distance between us, I see the tears streaming down her face, her usually composed expression crumbling.
The moment she sees me, she rushes forward and clings to me, her hands trembling as she grips my arms.
“He’s gone, Emily,” she chokes out, her voice thick with grief. “He’s gone. His heart just stopped.”
My heart feels like it stops, too. I pull her close, feeling her shake against me as she sobs, her pain raw and unfiltered. My mind refuses to process the words .
He can’t be gone. He was supposed to wake up. He was supposed to come back to us.
Andrew stands nearby, his hand resting gently on my back. I feel his support, his quiet strength as he stays by my side, though he must be confused about what is going on.
“It happened so fast,” my mother whispers through her tears. “One minute, he was stable, and the next…” Her words trail off, lost in another sob.
I don’t know how long we stand there, the weight of the moment pressing down on me, suffocating and inescapable. The world around us feels distant and hazy, a harsh contrast to the searing pain in my chest.
I glance up at Andrew, and he gives me a slight nod, his expression filled with compassion and understanding.
The air feels thick, stifling, as I stand with my mother, her body trembling against mine. I don’t know how to comfort her; I don’t know how to comfort myself.
My father is gone. The words echo hollowly in my mind, and I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to grasp their reality.
Then I spot Lisa rushing into the waiting room. She spots us immediately, her face stricken, and she hurries over, wrapping her arms around me and my mother without a word.
The warmth of her embrace is grounding, giving me something to hold onto as my world unravels.
She doesn’t need to ask. She knows without my telling her that he’s gone.
After a moment, I glance up at Andrew. His face is drawn with concern, but there’s patience there too—a willingness to wait until I’m ready to explain.
It hits me how little he knows, how I’ve kept so much from him, and the weight of it is like something sitting on my chest.
I take a deep breath, letting go of Lisa and my mother, and walk over to him. My hands shake as I reach for him, feeling like an imposter .
“I’m so sorry, Em.” His voice is low, his gaze warm but laced with sympathy. He takes my hands, his thumbs brushing over my knuckles as he holds me.
He pauses, his brows knitting together. “Who died?”