Chapter 25
Isabel
The surgery lasted six hours—the longest, cruelest, most unbearable hours of my life.
Time didn’t tick; it dragged.
Each second stretched like a blade, cutting deeper into my sanity, into every inch of me that dared to hope.
I count the tea cups on the table in front of me. Four. Five. Six.
Each one cold. Untouched. Useless.
Then the door opens.
Chris steps out of the operating room, his scrubs stained, his eyes exhausted. He pulls his mask down slowly. I stand without realizing it, knees barely cooperating.
The world holds its breath.
“The surgery went well,” he says gently. “Now we have to wait for your husband to wake up. In a couple of days, we’ll know if the surgery succeeded.”
The words don’t hit me all at once. They swirl in slow motion, suspended in the sterile air.
I blink,, then I’m nodding.
“Thanks, Chris,” I manage, my voice cracking on the edge of tears I’ve swallowed for far too long.
He places a hand on my elbow and guides me gently to the closest bench, easing me down like I might fall apart if left standing too long. He wouldn’t be wrong.
“Everything will be fine,” he says softly. “It’s strange not seeing the positive Isabel from university.”
I let out a broken laugh, trying to conjure her—the girl who walked barefoot across campus lawns, who once said everything had a solution, who kissed Nate like the world could never break them.
“I still am,” I whisper, forcing a smile that burns my cheeks, “but I’m also terrified of Nathan’s reaction if the operation fails.”
“Isabel,” Chris sighs. “Don’t think the worst. Not like you used to.”
“Chris, how can I not?” I snap, voice sharper than intended as I throw my hands in the air. “You told me. You said sixty percent. That doesn’t exactly scream hope to me!”
His mouth opens, then closes. He knows I’m right. And he knows I’m unraveling.
He hesitates—then asks the question I’ve been avoiding like a landmine. “Do you feel guilty about the choice you made?”
I snap my head toward him, fury flashing through the fog of grief. “What?” My voice shakes. “Of course not! I’d rather know he’s alive—even if he hates me—than…”
I choke on the rest.
Than dead.
I can’t say it.
I won’t say it.
The thought alone rips my soul in half. I bury my face in my hands, and the dam breaks.
My sobs echo in the hallway like a prayer, raw and helpless and cracked open.
Chris doesn’t say anything at first. He just pulls me into a hug. Strong. Steady. Not Nathan.
But close enough to keep me from shattering entirely.
“I get it,” he murmurs. “I do. But he’s a lucky man, Isabel.”
His words are soft, but they land heavy.
“Congratulations on your wedding, by the way.”
“Thanks,” I whisper. Or maybe I only think I do.
The hallway is so damn quiet.
Just the buzz of distant machines and the hollow beat of my heart.
He’s alive. For now.
And somewhere behind those doors, my husband—the man I love with a terrifying, all-consuming kind of devotion—he’s fighting to come back.
Alice and my father arrive a few hours later. Their voices echo in the corridor, familiar and warm, but I can’t focus. The noise of the world feels muffled. Like I’m submerged underwater—floating somewhere between panic and hope.
I’m clutching a styrofoam cup of tea so bitter it turns my stomach, but I drink it anyway. Something to do. Something to hold. Something to keep me tethered to this reality I hate.
My father sits quietly at first, but I can feel him watching me. Judging my exhaustion, the tension in my shoulders, the way I stare at the wall like it holds all the answers.
Then he finally speaks.
“Go rest, Isabel. We’ll stay here.”
I snap.
“No!”
The word is sharp—final—as I hurl the cup into the plastic bin. The tea splashes, staining the inside like the mess in my chest. My feet carry me toward Nate’s room, the hallway blurring around me.
“Isabel, be reasonable,” my father says, his voice gentle but firm. “He’s resting. The hospital will call us if anything changes.”
I whirl around, heels clacking against the floor, nearly slipping.
“He’s my husband, Dad! And I’ll be damned if I leave this hospital while he’s in that bed!”
My voice cracks on the last word, and I feel my throat burning, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop.
My place is here. With him.
Alice steps in gently, knocking once before entering with a bag clutched in her hand.
“Izzy,” she says softly, “I brought you a change of clothes. I figured you’d want to stay with him.”
My defenses fall just a little.
“Thanks, Alice. You’re a sweetheart.” My voice trembles despite the words.
She walks up to me and pulls me into a tight hug, and for a second I let myself lean on her, if only to stay standing.
“If you need anything, call me,” she whispers. “I’ll bring you food and more clothes during the day. Are you sure you don’t want to sleep in a real bed?”
I shake my head.
“My place is next to him, Alice.”
She brushes a strand of hair from my face like she used to, before turning to go. “All right, honey. We’ll be back later.”
The door clicks softly behind her, and I’m alone again.
I go to the bathroom and strip away the shell of who I’ve been pretending to be these last hours—the wrinkled dress, the smeared makeup, the heels that make my feet ache.
I pull on the sweatshirt and leggings Alice brought and lace up my sneakers.
For the first time today, I feel like a person.
A real one. Not a porcelain figure trying not to break.
I return to his side and sit.
Hours pass.
Nurses come and go, their footsteps light, their voices quieter than whispers. Machines beep in soft intervals. The IV drips. But no one says anything. No news. Just waiting.
I rest my forehead against his hand. His skin is warm, but still.
“I’m here, love,” I whisper. “You’re not alone.”
My fingers tighten around his.
“We’ll get through this. Together. But you have to be strong for me now, okay?”
My voice wavers, but I force it steady. He needs strength, not my fear.
I lean in and press a kiss to his forehead. It’s soft, careful, reverent.
“Can you do that for me, Nate?”
My tears sting, but I hold them back.
“Come back to me. Please.”
Because no matter what we’ve been through, no matter the silence, the distance, the pain—he’s my home.
And I don’t know how to breathe without him.
I must have dozed off at some point. My head jerks up from the edge of the bed, and the first thing I see is Nate’s still form, chest rising gently, steady beeps from the monitor syncing with my pulse.
He’s still here.
A knock breaks the silence, soft but firm. Before I can answer, the door opens, and the energy in the room shifts like a gust of wind forcing its way through.
Sebastian steps in, sharp in black, hair a little mussed, dark circles beneath his eyes. Behind him, his bodyguard—K—moves like a shadow, expression unreadable but alert.
“Jesus,” Sebastian breathes as he takes in the room. “You look like hell, Izzy.”
I laugh bitterly. “Nice to see you too, Your Highness.”
He crosses the room in a few strides and pulls me into a hug. For a second, I melt into it, grip his jacket like it’s a lifeline. He smells like jet fuel and leather. Familiar.
“You flew all the way from Greendale?”
“New York and you should’ve called me sooner.”
“I couldn’t. I didn’t know how to say the words out loud.”
He nods, like he understands more than I’ve even said.
K lingers in the corner but I can feel his gaze sweep the room like a silent protector. Nate would like him.
Sebastian gestures to the chair beside Nate. “Sit down, Izzy. You look like you haven’t slept in days.”
“I haven’t.” I sink into the chair. “He hasn’t texted me in days. I don’t know what happened. He just went cold. I thought—I thought maybe he changed his mind about us.”
Sebastian crouches next to me. “He didn’t.”
“You don’t know that,” I whisper.
“Yes, I do. He’d rather crawl through hell barefoot than give you up.” His hand rests on mine. “I’ve known Nate my whole life, Izzy. That man loves you in a way that terrifies him.”
I glance at Nate’s face, pale but peaceful in sleep.
“I was terrified too,” I admit. “But it didn’t matter. I chose him. Over and over. And I still will.”
Sebastian squeezes my hand. “Then hold on to that. He’ll wake up. And when he does, he’s going to need you more than ever.”
I nod, blinking back fresh tears. “Thank you, Sebastian.”
He smiles gently. “You’ve always had me. Nate too. We’re family.”
K shifts, murmuring something to Sebastian, and he nods.
“I’m staying at the hotel across the street. K will rotate shifts if you need security or even just a damn nap. You’re not alone in this, Isabel.”
And for the first time since the nightmare started—I believe him.
After Sebastian wraps everything up—security outside the hospital, press silenced with carefully chosen words and firm royal influence—I almost fall apart in front of him. I begged him to go rest, to shower, to sleep. God knows he looks as wrecked as I feel.
“I’ll be back later,” he promises, hand brushing my shoulder before he leaves with K flanking him like a silent guardian. “Try to rest too.”
Rest. What a cruel joke.
When I step back into Nate’s room, the stillness splits me like a punch to the ribs. It smells like antiseptic and something metallic I can’t name. I hate it. But it’s where he is, so I stay.
I sink into the chair again, every bone in my body screaming.
I feel… brittle. Drained. Like I’ve been wrung out and left in the sun.
I rest my head against the mattress beside his hand, my cheek barely touching the blanket.
My eyes flutter closed. I just need a minute. Just a breath of quiet in the chaos.
Nate is laughing. That deep, reckless sound I’ve missed so much. We’re at the shore, barefoot, the tide washing over our feet as we run through the water. He’s chasing me. His arms are almost around me.
I turn, laughing too, and—He’s gone.
The beach is empty. Cold. His laugh fades like the tide pulling away.