Chapter 14
By late afternoon, the house was too quiet.
Callum had left that morning with barely a word, just a muttered “I’ll see you tonight” without meeting my eyes. I’d stood in the entryway long after the door closed, staring at the empty space he’d left behind, feeling like a ghost in my own home.
I kept replaying last night’s confrontation in my mind, twisting it, turning it, trying to understand what was real and what wasn’t.
My body hadn’t recovered from the emotional hit.
My heart had been fluttering all morning, light then heavy, too fast then too slow.
I’d tried to ignore the dizziness at first. Tried to drink water, sit down, breathe.
But by noon, my hands were trembling.
By one, my chest felt like someone had placed a brick on it.
By two, every time I stood up, the room tilted.
Still, I kept moving around the house like routine would save me.
I folded laundry, unloaded the dishwasher, and even tried to prep dinner.
My vision flickered when I bent down to grab the cutting board, and I had to grip the counter until my knuckles whitened.
It’s fine. Just stress. You’re fine. Keep going.
But my heart kept punching unevenly at my ribs, and the buzzing in my ears grew louder.
I dropped the knife once my hand trembled too hard to hold it. It clattered against the floor, and I stared at it stupidly for several seconds before deciding I couldn’t bend down to pick it up.
That’s when fear finally hit.
I fumbled for my phone, intending to call Callum, to tell him something was wrong, that I needed him. But when I pressed his contact, it rang seemingly forever, but he never picked up.
Of course.
I didn’t even bother leaving a message.
Instead, I sent one text: Call me when you can.
I waited five minutes. Ten.
Nothing.
By three, my chest felt too tight to expand fully, breaths shallow and thin, and I had to sit down on the kitchen floor because standing felt like too much coordination.
A moment later, the doorbell rang.
I flinched.
Then relief flooded me when I saw a text from Thalia flashing across my phone saying that she had come back to see me.
I hadn’t even realized she planned to come by. Or maybe she just sensed something, she did that sometimes.
By the time I opened the door, I was gripping the frame to stay upright.
“What the hell, G?” she breathed, eyes widening as soon as she saw my face. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”
“I’m okay,” I lied automatically, my voice thin. “Just a bad day.”
She stepped inside without waiting for permission, she never needed it, and shut the door behind her.
“Sit down.” She guided me to the entryway bench. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” I whispered, fingers digging into my knees. “I just… I don’t feel good.”
“That’s obvious,” she muttered, crouching in front of me. “Chest pain?”
I nodded once.
“Dizziness?”
“Yeah.”
“Vision?”
“Blurry,” I admitted.
Her jaw clenched. “How long has this been going on?”
“Since… this morning? Maybe earlier. I don’t know.”
“And you didn’t call anyone?”
“I tried calling Callum,” I said, and the words felt like they scraped something raw on the way out. “He didn’t answer.”
Thalia’s expression darkened instantly, a flash storm she swallowed before it broke open.
“Okay. That’s it,” she said. “Get your shoes. We’re going.”
“I don’t need—”
“You almost collapsed opening the door.”
“I didn’t—”
“Ginny.” Her voice softened, but her eyes didn’t. “You’re scaring me. We are going to the hospital, now.”
A wave of dizziness washed over me just from trying to stand, and she caught my elbow.
“See?” she snapped. “You can barely stay up.”
I felt humiliated, weak, guilty, and yet grateful she was here, because I genuinely wasn’t sure I could do this alone.
She got me into the passenger seat, buckled me in, then jogged around to the driver’s side.
The world outside the window blurred as she sped toward the hospital, one hand clenched around the wheel, the other hovering as if she wanted to reach out but didn’t dare take her eyes off the road.
“Keep talking to me,” she said, breathless. “Anything. Stay awake.”
“I’m awake,” I murmured, though my eyelids felt heavy. “Just tired.”
“Tired doesn’t look like this,” she shot back. “You’re gray, G.”
I let my head rest against the seat. “I didn’t want to overreact.”
“You’re underreacting,” she said. “Spectacularly.”
The rest of the drive was a haze, parking, doors opening, Thalia’s arm under mine as she half-carried me inside.
The triage nurse took one look at me and waved us ahead.
“What’s going on?” she asked, already snapping a blood pressure cuff around my arm.
“Chest pain,” Thalia answered for me. “Dizziness, vision issues. She has PSVT. She's barely able to stand.”
The nurse turned her calm, professional gaze to me. “Pain level?”
“Um…” My voice wavered. “Maybe a six? It’s not sharp. Just… heavy.”
“Any shortness of breath?”
“Yes,” Thalia said.
“A little,” I whispered.
The nurse wrote something down. “We need to get an ECG.”
They moved me into an exam room. The bed felt too big, too cold. My hands wouldn’t stop trembling.
Thalia hovered near my shoulder. “Do you want me to call Callum?”
The question punched me in the chest harder than the palpitations.
“No,” I whispered. “I already tried. He didn’t answer.”
Anger flickered over her face, molten, immediate.
“You’re here practically collapsing,” she said, voice shaking, “and that man can’t pick up his goddamn phone?”
“Thal,” I murmured, closing my eyes. “Please.”
She didn’t respond. Instead, she took my hand and squeezed it like she was trying to anchor me to the bed.
“You’re safe,” she said softly. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
The nurse returned, placing ECG leads against my skin. The machine beeped steadily, but my pulse felt anything but steady.
As the room dimmed around the edges, my breath hitched.
“I’m scared,” I whispered.
Thalia’s voice cracked as she leaned closer. “I know. And I’ve got you. I swear, I’ve got you.”
The machine kept beeping.
But my body kept sinking.
And the last thing I felt before everything narrowed to a thin tunnel of sound was Thalia’s thumb brushing my knuckles, her voice trembling with a fear she tried so hard to hide.
“You’re okay, G. I’m right here.”
· · ─ ·?· ─ · ·
When I came back to myself, it was slow, like surfacing through thick water. I didn’t open my eyes at first. I just felt the weight of the oxygen cannula against my cheek and heard the low hum of hospital machines.
And Thalia.
She was pacing.
Volcanic pacing. Every lap around the room seemed to build pressure instead of release it, like a volcano gathering itself before an eruption.
“…no, I’m telling you right now, she almost blacked out in my car!” she snapped, voice sharp enough to cut through the fog clouding my head.
I forced my eyelids open.
She was at the foot of my bed, phone pressed to her ear, hand clenched in her hair. Her face was red, streaked with stress and fury. She didn’t even notice I was awake yet.
“No, listen to me,” she hissed into the phone. “I’m calling because you need to know what your son has done.”
My stomach dropped.
She wasn’t talking to Callum.
She was talking to his parents.
“I tried him first,” she continued, pacing again. “He didn’t answer. Again. And do you know why Ginny ended up in the emergency room? Because she was home alone, scared, hurting, and he was too busy dealing with someone who isn’t his damn wife.”
“Thalia…” My voice cracked, barely there.
She held up a hand: not now.
Then she kept going.
“No, I’m not calming down. I refuse to calm down while she’s lying in a hospital bed with chest pain because your son decided to play emotional firefighter for whatever mess his ex created.”
I closed my eyes again, a mix of mortification and gratitude washing through me. I wanted to disappear into the sheets. I also wanted to cry because she cared enough to lose her mind like this on my behalf.
“Yes,” Thalia said, voice trembling now, anger trying to swallow grief. “He lied to her. He hid things from her. He let her spiral all day until she hit the floor. And he didn’t pick up the phone, not once. I don’t care what he’s dealing with, he doesn’t get to abandon her in his own home.”
She stopped pacing long enough to take a breath, shaky, uneven.
Then she fired the line that made my heart stutter harder than any arrhythmia:
“Your son fucked up!”
The words echoed off the sterile hospital walls.
She said it again, slower, deliberate, almost shaking with the force of it:
“Your. Son. Fucked. Up.”
I heard muffled voices, Callum’s mother, maybe his father? I couldn’t make out the words. Only Thalia’s responses.
“Of course she didn’t tell you. She’s too loyal for her own good.”
“No, she’s not okay. She was gray when I got there.”
“Yes, I’m with her now. No, he’s not.”
“I don’t know where he is, and I don’t care. I hope he is burning in hell.”
A tear slid into my hairline. I wasn’t sure when I’d started crying.
Thalia’s voice softened. “I’m staying with her until she stabilizes. If you want updates, text me, not him. Because until he pulls his head out of his ass, she shouldn’t have to worry about him.”
More muffled voices. Thalia rolled her eyes so hard it looked painful.
“No, I will not tell her to call him. She needs rest, not more stress.”
“…Right. Fine. I’ll tell her you said that.”
She pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it like it personally offended her. Then she hung up without saying goodbye.
I swallowed, trying to speak. “Thal…”
She turned to me instantly.
The anger vanished.
“Oh, G.” She rushed to my side, grabbing my hand again. “I’m glad you’re awake.”
“Yeah,” I whispered.
“How do you feel?”
“Like I got hit by a fridge.”
“That tracks,” she muttered, pulling a chair close.
For a moment, she just… looked at me. Studied me. Checked for signs I was still fading. Her thumb brushed across my knuckles, slow and grounding.
I tried to sit up a little. “You called his parents.”
“I sure as hell did.”
“Thalia…”
“No.” She leaned in, eyes blazing again. “No guilt. You don’t get to carry guilt while hooked up to a heart monitor.”
I blinked rapidly, tears building again. “They’re going to hate me. They’re going to think—”
“They adore you,” she cut in. “And I didn’t call to throw you under the bus. I called because they needed to know what their son has been doing.”
“He’s… he’s dealing with a lot.”
“So are you.” Her voice cracked. “The difference is you didn’t disappear. You didn’t lie. You didn’t put someone else above your marriage.”
That lodged in my chest like a shard of glass.
“I didn’t want them dragged into this,” I whispered.
“Tough,” she said bluntly. “They’re dragged in now. They should be. This is their family, too.”
I closed my eyes, overwhelmed.
Thalia squeezed my hand again. “They’re furious, by the way. Not at you. At him.”
Something in my chest pulled tight. “What did they say?”
“They’re coming,” she said.
My eyes flew open. “Here?”
“Yep.”
I tried to sit up straighter. “No, Thalia, no, my face probably looks awful, and they’ll worry, and I can’t—”
“Ginny.” She gently pushed my shoulder back down. “You don’t have to perform for anyone. Not right now. They’re coming because they love you. Because they’re scared. Because their son,” she took a breath, “has made choices that hurt you.”
I didn’t know what to do with that.
Before I could respond, a nurse stepped in to check the monitor. Thalia stood silently at my bedside the whole time, arms crossed, protective in a way that made me want to cry harder.
When the nurse left, Thalia finally spoke again, quieter, gentler.
“We’re going to get you through this,” she said. “You’re not alone.”
Something inside me broke then, not painfully, but in the way a dam breaks when it just can’t hold anymore.
I turned my face toward her hand and let myself cry.
She didn’t hug me, not yet, not with the wires and machines, but she kept her hand in mine, firm and steady.
And for the first time all day, my chest loosened just enough to breathe.