Chapter 17
Olivia's phone buzzed in her pocket. She jumped to her feet in panic, seeing Clayton's name lit up on the screen. She knew she had to answer but couldn't muster the strength to do so.
What would she tell him? That the woman he could not forget was alive?
She let the phone ring until it stopped.
Olivia had been spaced out for what felt like hours, but she couldn't move. She couldn't face what waited outside that door. For she knew the moment she walked out, her life wouldn't be the same anymore.
A gentle knock made her jump.
"Dr. Hilton?" It was Nurse Jessy.
She pulled herself together and opened the door.
“Jane Doe's vitals are stable.” Nurse Jessy informed her. “She's responding well to treatment.“
"T-thank you. I'll check on her later."
Nurse Jessy studied her for a moment, her brow furrowing slightly as if she could see through the facade. "Are you alright? You left in quite a hurry."
"I'm fine," Olivia lied, offering a smile that always worked on everyone. But not to her closest colleague.
Nurse Jessy opened her lips as though to say something but suddenly changed her mind. “Alright, but if you need to talk, you can find me at the nurses' station.”
When Olivia was finally alone, her hand touched her belly.
She needed to make a choice: tell everyone the truth or keep this secret buried deep inside her. But secrets had a way of coming out. And when this one did, it would shatter more than just her life; it would shatter everything, including her child's future.
She held the phone in her trembling grasp. After it rang, Mrs. Hilton answered. The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could think them through. "Mom, Caroline is alive."
The silence that followed was deafening.
"That's not funny, Olivia." Mrs. Hilton instantly lashed out. "How dare you joke about your deceased sister!"
Olivia closed her eyes, remembering the day she became part of the family.
She was fourteen when the Hiltons took her in, a year after Caroline vanished and was presumed dead.
They never stopped hoping their dead daughter would come back.
Olivia was there, but they never saw her; Caroline's memories shadowed her presence. She lived but never existed.
"M-mom... I'm not joking. The patient in my ward... she has a mole on her neck, like Caroline. And that star tattoo on her wrist, the one she got when she was just fourteen that almost drove you crazy.”
Silence. Olivia could hear her mother's breathing getting faster.
"M-mom? Are you still there?"
"Y-yes... A-are you s-sure?" Mrs. Hilton's voice had changed. The anger was gone, replaced by vulnerability. She was on the verge of breaking down.
"Please come to the hospital and see for yourself. We look alike… We are the same age.”
Olivia heard a sob through the phone. She wanted to reach through it, to hold her mother, even if she knew she would be pushed away.
"W-we will be there," Mrs. Hilton finally managed to say. “But who will tell Clayton?”
Olivia gripped her phone. "I will," she whispered, though her heart screamed otherwise. "He's my husband. He needs to hear it from me."
After ending the call, she stood frozen, summoning what was left of her strength to contact her husband.
She pulled out her phone again, staring at Clayton's number. Her fingers shook. She typed: "I don't know when you can read this, but there's an emergency. Can you come to the hospital ASAP?”
The response came instantly. "I’ve just finished my mission. I'm actually on my way home. Should we have lunch together at your favorite restaurant?"
She didn't respond.
Olivia pressed her palms against her eyes until she saw stars. She didn't know how to break the news to him.
How do you tell your husband that the love of his life—the woman he mourned, the name he sometimes called in his nightmares—wasn't dead? How do you tell him when you're carrying his child?
Her pager beeped; she needed to check on the patient. Olivia straightened her white coat before making her way down the corridor.
Her hand rested on the door handle. Through the window, she could see Caroline, sleeping peacefully while her world was falling apart.
She slipped inside, letting the door click shut behind her.
"I should hate you," Olivia whispered, sinking into the chair beside the bed. "I've lived in your shadow since I was fourteen, trying to fill the hole you left. But I can't hate you. How can I hate someone who gave me everything?"
Her voice cracked, but she kept talking, needing to say the words while she still could.
"Your parents took me in when I had nothing—a bullied kid desperate to belong somewhere. They gave me your old room, your old clothes. They tried so hard to love me, but I was never quite enough because I wasn’t you. ”
Tears rolled down her cheeks, dripping onto her white coat. "And Clayton... God, Clayton." She pressed her hands against her stomach, where their child grew. "He never loved me. He only has you in his heart.”
"You know what's funny? I should thank you.
If you hadn't disappeared, I would never have known what it feels like to have a family.
To have a mother who tries to love you even through her grief.
To have a father who provides all you need, even if he sometimes forgets you exist. To have a husband who.
.." She choked on the words. "Who tries his best to fulfill his responsibilities, even when his heart belongs to someone else. "
Olivia wiped her eyes with her sleeve.
"So I'm giving it all back. Your family, your life.
They were only on loan to me anyway. I was just keeping them safe until you returned.
" She stood up. "I hope you'll be kind to them.
They've suffered so much. And maybe... maybe you'll be kind to me too.
Let me keep some small corner of this family I borrowed.
If not for me, then for..." Her hand rested on her belly again.
An hour later, the door opened behind her.
Olivia turned and found her adoptive parents standing at the doorway.
Mrs. Hilton saw the unconscious woman in the bed, and her hand covered her mouth, while Mr. Hilton held onto the doorframe as if his legs might give out.
“I’ll give you some privacy," Olivia whispered, backing away.
Neither of them seemed to hear her. They moved past her like she was made of air, just as they had done so many times before.
She stood in the hallway, her back pressed against the cold wall, listening to the muffled sobs from inside. The sound of her mother crying, "My baby, my baby girl," over and over made Olivia's chest squeeze so tight she could barely breathe.
Minutes stretched like hours. When Mrs. Hilton finally emerged, her makeup was streaked down her face, her eyes swollen and red. She opened her mouth to say something to Olivia, but the words never came.
The elevator dinged.
Clayton stepped out, his dark hair messy as if he'd been running his fingers through it. His eyes were wild with worry. For a split second, they met Olivia's, but she instantly looked away, afraid that he might discover the heartbreak in her eyes.
Clayton strode across the hallway, his long strides closing the gap between them in an instant. Olivia felt the warmth of his body before he enveloped her in his embrace.
The world around her faded away, the background noise retreating into a distant hum.
She wanted to cry. She wanted to tell him everything, but the words lodged in her throat, stuck somewhere between her heart and her mind.
His arms tightened around her as if he had been waiting for her to fall apart.
Before she could gather her thoughts, she felt Clayton being pulled away from her.
Mr. Hilton had emerged from Caroline's room. He grasped Clayton's arm and pulled him to where he emerged, leaving Olivia standing alone in the hallway.
"Clayton," she called out. But he was already inside. Her feet moved on their own to follow him, but Mrs. Hilton's hand caught her arm, holding her back. "Don't," her mother said softly. "He knows already. I called him before we came."
She froze. How could Mrs. Hilton do that? "But I'm his wife, Mom. I should be the one..."
"Olivia, I instinctively called him because he has the right to know. This is Caroline we are talking about.”
Those words hurt. This was Caroline, the real daughter, the true love, the one they'd all been waiting for.
Mrs. Hilton left her without a word.
Through the window, Olivia watched as Clayton fell to his knees beside Caroline's bed. Mrs. Hilton stood behind him, her hand on his back. Her adoptive father stood in the corner, wiping his eyes.
They looked like a family—a real family—reunited at last. And there was Olivia, looking like an outsider.
She backed away from the window, from the scene that would haunt her forever. Her feet carried her down the hallway. She didn't stop until she reached her office bathroom, where she locked herself in and finally let herself break down. Again.
All these years, she'd tried so hard to be enough, to fill the void Caroline left behind. But now she understood. She was never meant to fill it. She was just keeping the space warm until its rightful owner returned.
A few minutes later, she splashed water on her face and put on some light makeup. The woman in the mirror looked composed, professional, not the same woman whose life had fallen apart.