Chapter 30
Anna
I watched them leave, my eyes following their backs until the door clicked shut. And all I could think was, how on earth did they expect me to respond to them after everything they did?
I didn’t forget a single word while I was unconscious. People think silence means absence. It doesn’t. I heard things. I felt things. I remember.
Veronica’s voice still echoes in my head, sharp, cruel, careless with my life. And then she dares to sit here and call herself my best friend. Best friends don’t talk about you like you’re already dead.
And Michael…
The man who once promised forever looked at me lying helpless and wanted to pull the plug. Then he followed it with a divorce. Erased me like I never mattered. And still, he looks me in the eye and says he loves me, knowing he’s with Veronica and knowing precisely what he did.
I saw it too, the way Veronica’s face fell the second he said those words to me. Good. You always wanted him. Now keep him. What happens between the two of you is no longer my story.
If it wasn’t for a stranger, whether he was my doctor or not, I wouldn’t be breathing right now. I wouldn’t be here thinking, feeling, hurting, healing. He fought for me when people who claimed to love me gave up.
I owe him my life.
And I would spend the rest of it trying to give him something back, if he’d let me.
Because that’s what love looks like. It stays. It fights. It chooses you when you can’t choose yourself.
I don’t even know if he loves me. Maybe that doesn't sound very smart. Perhaps it sounds like a dream I built to survive.
But one thing I know for sure…
I’m not confused. I’m not pretending. I’m not imagining this. I am hopelessly in love with him.
Even if he didn’t save me, I think I would have fallen for him anyway.
My dad and sister arrived shortly after, filling the room with that familiar warmth. “Hey, Dad,” I greeted, trying to sound casual.
His eyes glistened instantly, and he reached for my hand. “Sweetheart… how are you feeling?”
“I’m… good, thank you,” I said, turning toward Nancy. She signed quickly, her fingers dancing in that practised rhythm. Dr. Collins is looking great after you.
I glanced at him, standing a short distance away, talking quietly with Dr. Branson. “I know… he’s wonderful, right?”
Nancy’s fingers moved again, teasing: “I think he’s in love with you.”
I shook my head, laughing softly. “No, that’s impossible.”
My dad’s eyes flicked between Collins and me, clearly trying to gauge the situation.
“You’d make a good couple,” Nancy signed next, a cheeky smile on her face.
“Why would you say that?” I whispered, leaning closer to her. “If you know I’m married.”
She quickly shook her head. “Oops, sorry,” she signed. Then she paused, tilting her head thoughtfully. I realised she might have assumed I didn’t know about the divorce.
“Don’t apologise,” I murmured. “I know Michael and I are… no more.”
Her fingers moved slowly. “You know?”
“Yes.” I couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at my lips. “I heard everything while I was asleep.”
“You did?” My dad’s voice caught, surprise evident in his tone.
“Yes… everything. Him trying to pull the plug, filing for divorce, and dating Veronica.”
“You heard all that?” my dad asked, his hand tightening slightly around mine.
“Yes, Dad. But don’t worry, I made a mental note to move on. And I have. I’ve had enough time to heal.”
He sighed, his eyes moist, then gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’m glad, sweetheart.” Then, almost conspiratorially, he glanced at Dr. Collins before looking back at me. “I like Dr. Collins,” he said with a grin. “Let’s hope he’s not married.”
I laughed softly. “I don’t think so. Chloe told me he’s cold, detached, and not interested in women.”
Dad raised a curious brow. “When did Chloe tell you that?”
“At my bachelorette, when I first met him,” I said, letting a slight smile tug at my lips.
“So you’ve met before?” Dad asked, clearly intrigued.
“Yes,” I nodded.
After a while, my dad and sister hugged me and said their goodbyes. A few other family members trickled in and out, offering smiles and words of encouragement. Then, finally, the room quieted.
The doctors came in for their rounds. I watched as they asked their routine questions, checking memory, orientation, and recognition. I noticed Collins hovering at the edge of the bed, calm but watchful.
Carefully, I placed my hand on his that was resting near me. I could see the subtle flicker of surprise in his eyes. Slowly, he covered my hand with his other, warm and steady, before gently pulling away. “Rest now,” he murmured.
And just like that, the weight of the day, the voices, the memories—all of it—slipped away. Sleep crept in, and I let myself be carried into it, the echo of his touch lingering on my skin.