Chapter 38 The Happily Ever After
the happily ever after [trope]
the quintessential rom-com finish line, where all misunderstandings, love triangles, and career dilemmas magically resolve; usually accompanied by a sweeping kiss, a slow fade to sparkly sunsets, and the promise that these two will never argue over Netflix shows or who left the milk out
I look over at Rafael, the steady rhythm of his breathing the only sound in the sterile hospital room.
His head is bandaged, a stark white wrap against his dark hair, and his shoulder is covered, too, the dressing stained slightly.
The machines beside him beep softly, a strange comfort that tells me he’s still here, still fighting.
I sink back into the chair, my fingers trembling as I trace the tattoo on his left arm, the way I’ve been doing without pause for the last three days.
A quiet sob bubbles up in my chest, and I press the back of my hand to my mouth, trying to keep it in.
I hate seeing him like this—battered, vulnerable, almost lifeless in the bed.
It’s been three days, and it keeps hitting me just as hard.
Under the dim hospital lights, he looks like a boy who’s been through too much.
“I’m sorry.” I’m not even sure why I’m apologizing, but I keep doing it.
Maybe it’s because I wasn’t there for him when he was a boy going through too much, because I don’t know how to make the past disappear for him.
Maybe it’s because I’m scared—scared of losing him, scared of not knowing if he’ll ever wake up.
Maybe it’s because it feels like I put him there.
I lean forward, resting my head on his stomach, my hand still brushing his side. “Just come back,” I whisper. “Please.”
“Hey,” Paige says as she enters the room. With a glance at Rafael, she sighs. “Nothing new?”
I shake my head. The doctors said he suffered a traumatic head injury, and they’re pretty confident he’ll wake up once the swelling heals, but they can’t say for sure. Nor can they say how much damage there’ll be.
“He looks peaceful,” she says as she stands at my side, then pulls some of my hair back. “Much better than you, for sure. When’s the last time you took a shower?”
“Uh… two days ago.”
“You really want him to wake up and find you like this?”
Though there’s a humorous undertone to her voice, I don’t bother forcing a smile out.
“He’ll wake up, Scarlett.”
I squeeze her hand when she gently grips my shoulder.
“But you really should take a shower. Eat something.” She purses her lips. “Ethan said he’s coming over after school. Maybe he could take your place for a couple of hours? Just enough for you to have lunch. Wash your hair.”
“Is everything okay with him?” I ask, eyes still stuck to Rafael. His chest rising and falling is the only thing that’s keeping me from breaking down. I need it to keep rising and falling.
“Yeah. Your grandparents dropped off all his stuff, and we’ve been working on his bedroom.”
We’ve been in constant communication, and he comes to the hospital every afternoon. Still, I know this is unfair to him, too. I was supposed to be doing all that with him, not Paige. “But he’s okay?”
“Trust me, he is. He’s enjoying his alone time with Jace plenty. Right now, you need to think of yourself a little.”
I firmly shake my head. “I can’t leave his side.”
“Scarlett…”
“I can’t.” I grip his hand, as if she’ll forcibly drag me out of the room.
The nurses have been trying to get me out every night, but I swear I’ll bolt my feet to the floor before I agree to leave him alone in here.
“He wanted to tell me he loved me, and I didn’t let him.
He begged me to tell him I loved him, and I wouldn’t.
And now…” Now we may never get to say those words.
“I scrubbed my hands for half an hour, and the blood wouldn’t leave, Paige.
It just wouldn’t. And his chest—his chest stopped moving, and his lips stopped moving, and I—”
“Scarlett…”
“I didn’t tell him I loved him. That’s all he wanted, and I didn’t give it to him.”
“Okay. You don’t have to go.” She moves closer. “Tomorrow, maybe.”
Tomorrow. The implication is almost enough to break me.
This is what our life will look like from now on, isn’t it?
For weeks, maybe months. Until I’ll have to go.
Find another job, because Booked It is obviously done, but the bills still need to be paid.
Ethan needs to eat, and I need to be his guardian.
At some point, I’ll have to leave Rafael here, all alone. Maybe hurting, though the doctors promise he’s not. Defenseless, motionless. I’ll have to move on like my life makes any sense without him in it.
But that day certainly isn’t today. Or tomorrow.
“Maybe.”
“Okay.” There’s some shuffling noise, then she holds out an envelope. “This is for you.”
Tentatively, I grab the envelope and open it, trying to push away the sinking feeling I get once I let his hand go. “What is it?” I ask when all I see inside is money. “What is this for?”
“It’s from—well, everyone. Whatever they could spare. So you can pay bills and buy food and whatever else you need while you’re here.”
My eyes sting and my nose burns. “I can’t accept this.”
“Not only can you, but you have to.” She takes the envelope back. “In fact, I’ll be using a chunk of this to pay your bills today and leave the rest at home, okay?”
Too tired to argue, I say, “Okay. Thank you.”
She wraps her arm around me in a quick side hug.
“This is it, right? How love will destroy me? I thought it was our breakup—that no longer having him in my life was the strongest pain I could experience—but I should have known better.”
Death. Grief. Loss.
That’s what love really is.
“I’m sorry, you know? If it wasn’t for me… I pushed you to fall in love, and—”
“I don’t regret Rafael,” I rush out. “Not for one second. Loving him is worth any pain.”
I just wish it was me lying in this bed instead of him.
“He’s your real-life book boyfriend, Scarlett.” She presses a kiss to the side of my head. “Those always wake up.”
Tears trickle down my cheeks.
“I’ll text you later, okay?”
I turn with a smile over my shoulder until she leaves the room, and I’m finally alone with Rafael again. Maybe I should read to him some more. The doctors said he might hear it. Or maybe that’s the sort of bullshit they say to people like me, hopelessly waiting for their loved ones to wake up.
I grab a noir Paige brought over yesterday, but I can’t really focus, and to be honest, I’m kind of done with murder.
Instead, I reach into my bag and take out Hearts on Hold.
I’ve been reading it to him, annotating it the way he asked me to weeks ago.
But once I reached the third-act breakup, I couldn’t force myself to watch these two people hurt the same way I am hurting.
Still, it sounds better than murder, so I open to page 256 and read out loud: “Julie sat alone in the quiet of her apartment, her gaze fixed on the flickering candle in front of her, but her mind was far from the present. It kept drifting back to him—always back to him.
“Terrence. It felt like a lifetime ago when they were wrapped up in each other, when his touch felt like the safest place she could ever be. She could still see the way he’d watched her from across the room and made her heart skip a beat.
She remembered how easily they’d fallen into step, how perfectly they’d fit, despite everything that should have kept them apart. ”
I glance up at him, then write on the corner of the page, “I thought the thing I’d miss the most about you would be your hugs or your voice.
Both excellent, by the way. But it’s your smile.
” I continue reading: “Even now, with all the hurt, she couldn’t deny how much she had loved him.
Still loved him. Because Terrence wasn’t just the man she had lost—he was the man who had taught her what it meant to truly let someone in, even if that came at a price.
He had shown her the love that terrified her because it forced her to confront parts of herself she’d kept buried for so long. ”
Wiping the tears off my face, I make another little note: “You know when I realized I loved you? When you made us breakfast in bed. And lunch. And we ate neither. I don’t know why I didn’t tell you back then, but I was sure of it.”
I set the pen down. “Maybe that was the real heartbreak—not the loss of him but losing what they could have been. The future they could have had. But love, she realized, wasn’t just about holding on. Sometimes it was about knowing when to let go.”
I exhale; then, putting pen to paper, I scribble: “This is some bullshit. I’m not letting you go, now or ever.”
“Well, come on. Keep going.” The pen drops from my hand as I look up at Rafael, eyes barely open and a tired smile on his face. “I’m dying to know if these two end up together.”
I lean against the cold hospital wall, arms crossed tightly over my chest, as I wait for the doctor to finish his visit.
My heart races, my stomach churning with a mix of anxiety and hope.
He’s awake. Fully awake. I should feel relief, but all I can feel is more worry.
Is he okay? Will he make a full recovery?
The door opens with a quiet click, and I straighten as Dr. Patel steps out into the hallway. His calm expression gives nothing away, but there’s something in his eyes, something that feels like reassurance.
“He’s awake.”
Dr. Patel flips through the pages of Rafael’s chart. “Yes, fully awake and coherent.”
I release a shaky breath, relief flooding through me. But before I can let myself get lost in the joy of it, I ask the question that’s been gnawing at me for days. “How… how is he?”
The doctor glances up at me, his tone steady but gentle. “Considering the trauma he experienced, he’s doing exceptionally well. The head injury is serious, but there are no immediate signs of lasting cognitive damage.”