Chapter 5
Sky
My head is throbbing, my body a hollow shell. I have no idea how long I've been sitting here, trying to digest the encounter with my father.
Apparently, he was confused, even mistaking me for Mother at first. I wonder if he really meant what he said afterward to his daughter?
"Are you Sky?"
I look up and see a woman my age in a white coat with her loose hair tied back. A stethoscope hangs around her neck, and her name is embroidered on the chest pocket of her coat.
Dr. June Taylor.
She crouches in front of me. "Lil told me I'd find you here." A hesitant smile reveals the tiny gap between her front teeth. "I'm June, and I'm supposed to inform you about the patient's condition," she says in broken Swedish. If I had to guess, I'd think she's American, maybe Canadian.
She extends her hand, pulling me up. For a moment, I feel dizzy and have to lean against the wall.
"When was the last time you drank?" she asks.
Maybe on the plane? "A few hours ago."
She looks at me sympathetically, then links her arm with mine, guiding me along. "Let's see what we can do for you."
Gratitude washes over me. She's so caring, unlike the guy staring at me through the glass panel of the double doors earlier.
Something's not right with him. First, he berates me at the hospital entrance without a reason, and then that bizarre incident just now.
I shake off my scattered thoughts and follow the doctor into another hospital room where a blond man with facial abrasions lies, someone I've never seen before. The neon light on the ceiling flickers, and the walls are as sterile as the furnishings.
June points at the patient. "This is Stig Hansen, Deputy CEO at Touch av lyx ."
"God dag," I nod politely. I know from previous press reports that Father has a deputy. But I haven't read a word about the fact that he was also involved in the accident. "I'm Sky," I introduce myself with a queasy feeling in my stomach. He's my father's right-hand man; he certainly doesn't keep secrets from him. Still, I'd better be careful.
He acknowledges my greeting but winces in pain, and his injuries seem severe. "The lost daughter?" he rasps, sinking his head into the pillow.
For a moment, I can't breathe. Has my father told him about me? Maybe because he missed me as much as I missed him all these years? "That's exactly who I am," I reply, trembling.
June instructs me to take a seat at the square table by the window. She places a glass of water in front of me and produces a chocolate bar from her coat.
"You need to make a decision."
A decision? Stig's eyelids flutter, threatening to close, while I'm alarmed.
"What about Father?" I ask breathlessly. "How badly is he hurt?"
The doctor smiles gently. "Is it okay if we speak English?" she asks, to which I nod. I wouldn't understand the medical jargon in Swedish anyway. "Mr. Gustavson has suffered a myelopathy." Her gaze flickers to me as if checking whether I understand the word. I probably just stare blankly at her, so she adds, "A spinal cord injury."
That doesn't sound good at all. "So he's..."
"We can't say at this point," she responds reassuringly, focusing her attention back on the file. "In addition, he has thoracic trauma, a ruptured spleen, and a rib fracture. A few abrasions, but those are hardly worth mentioning."
What does that mean? My fingernails dig into my thighs. Stig groans in pain as he attempts to sit up in bed. The doctor shoots him a warning look, likely reminding him that he needs to rest.
"The injuries mentioned are serious but not life-threatening," she continues. "His lab results could be better, but I don't see any reason to be concerned here."
If she's so unconcerned, why do those deep wrinkles form on her forehead? "But?"
She closes the file and places her hands on top of it, as if trying to prevent it from opening itself. "He has suffered a severe traumatic brain injury. Since his admission, we have been monitoring an intracranial hemorrhage that is steadily worsening."
Intracranial... what?
"A brain hemorrhage?" Stig croaks, sounding almost as if this information is new to him too.
I still don't understand, but I know it sounds terribly ominous. "And how... I mean... how does that affect him?"
She leans closer to me. "An intracranial hemorrhage, depending on its extent, exerts pressure on the patient's brain, which can lead to brain damage."
Brain damage? I anxiously cover my mouth with my hands.
"My God." Stig's voice trembles.
"The medical intervention has been unsuccessful so far. We should treat the bleeding surgically," June cautiously addresses both of us. "It's not without risks, as you can probably imagine."
She proceeds to list a series of horrifying scenarios that could occur during or after the operation. She's just doing her job and doesn't want to risk any legal issues. I understand that, but the pressure in my chest keeps mounting. Even though I don't comprehend much, it's clear to me that my father won't be leaving this hospital anytime soon.
"And in the best-case scenario?" I ask the doctor because the thought of death, coma, or irreversible neurological damage is so overwhelming that I want to forget it as quickly as possible.
She forces a hopeless smile. "If his spinal cord injury heals well, and the removal of the intracranial bleeding goes perfectly smoothly?" She pauses, as if contemplating whether to emphasize how unlikely that is.
"Exactly," I quickly confirm. My gaze briefly shifts to Stig, who clenches his lips.
I can tell she doesn't want to disappoint me. "Even in that case, we're talking about several weeks, maybe even months." She stands up and looks meaningfully at both me and Stig. "Mr. Gustavson is not in a mental state to make decisions. I need consent for the surgery from both of you."
Oh God. I'm supposed to decide?
I can't. What if I make everything worse?
"What do you think?" I ask Stig, who has been growing paler over the past few minutes.
His attempt to shrug ends in a hissing sound of pain. "It seems to be the only option."
I'm afraid so, too. Swallowing hard, I turn to June. "Where do I have to sign?"
With a soft click, the door closes behind her a few minutes later. Silence envelops me, both around me and within me. The electric buzz of the neon lamp takes center stage.
"You used to work for Touch av lyx and were supposed to succeed your father," Stig remarks, his voice laden with exhaustion.
I nod absentmindedly. "That was our shared dream."
A rattling sound accompanies his deep breath. "Your father is seriously injured but thankfully stable at the moment. Even if his surgery and recovery go perfectly, he'll be"—he pauses, coughing hard—"restricted for months," he manages to utter.
That's exactly what the doctor explained. And as if that wasn't bad enough, he doesn't want me around either. If it were up to him, I should leave Stockholm as soon as possible.
But how could I just walk away in this situation? I will always be his daughter in my heart, and I want to be there for him.
"I can't take his place because I'll be bound to this bed for weeks." Stig's cheeks turn bright red. "Internal..." He wheezes, attempting to cough but failing. "...injuries."
This is bad. "Kahlo could temporarily take over," I suggest. After all, I know from the press reports that our chief designer still works for Touch av lyx . He's one of the oldest employees and knows the operations well.
Stig shakes his head vigorously. "He's a designer, not a businessman." He looks at me from half-closed eyes. "You should step in."
Me? "No," I reply faster than I can think. Father wouldn't like that, and I don't want to upset him further.
"You know this company from the ground up and understand what's important." His upper body curls, and he presses his hands to his chest with a pained expression. "Gustav talked so many times about how he taught you everything."
What? Father not only revealed my existence but also mentioned that I've become a part of Touch av lyx —and vice versa?
Amid all the worry and fear for Father, a warm feeling sneaks into my chest. "You think he'd be okay with it?" I ask with too much hope in my voice.
Returning to work for this company is something I hadn't dared to dream about anymore.
He nods heavily. "I'll inform Lil. She should get everything..." He coughs again, and his head turns dark red. "...set in motion." His hand reaches for his phone on the bedside table. "I'll support you as best as I can in my condition."
I watch in disbelief as he types a message.
He will be there for me. When I don't know what to do, he will help. It feels so reassuring that a whole new thought surges within me. An idea like a small light in the darkness of this day. A concept that fills my heart with more longing than it can contain.
What if this isn't just a terrible tragedy? What if fate is giving my father and me a chance that we would have never had without this accident?
The chance to get closer again.
The chance to become a family once more.
Yes. I want to believe in that. And also in the fact that I am up to the task that Stig just entrusted to me.
Since I can remember, I've spent every free minute in my father's company. I've inhaled fashion and everything related to it, know the processes, and understand what matters.
Back then, I let my silly feelings distract me, and it was the reason for my failure. They clouded my vision of what truly mattered and led me to do things I would never have done otherwise.
I was so incredibly in love.
And so incredibly foolish.
But I'm not that foolish Sky anymore. I haven't let any man into my life since then, and it hasn't even been difficult. Today, I know what matters to me and what I'll fight for with all my might.
For Touch av lyx .
For my chance to be Father's daughter again.
And for our shared dream, which might not be lost forever after all.