Chapter 138: Chapter 138
Amara’s phone beeped. The soft vibration pulled her attention away from the rising steam curling above the water.
Her lashes were heavy with soap. A sharp sting pressed faintly at the corner of her eyes as she blinked them open. She reached blindly for the device on the edge of the tub, her fingers dripping water as she wiped at her soapy eyes.
The screen glowed against the dim warmth of the bathroom, Elias’ name lighted up the screen.
For a moment she hesitated, staring at the letters like they carried more weight than they should. Then she opened the message.
"Are you still out?" His text read.
Her lips pressed into a straight line. She leaned back against the curved rim of the jacuzzi tub, letting the warm bubbles embrace her, holding her almost too gently when all she wanted was to sink and vanish into heat. With a small swipe of her damp thumb, she typed back a simple: "Yes."
There was no explanations from her, or any details. She left that word there to be enough to end conversation, though she knew Elias would never let it end there.
When Dominic had mentioned a "private suite," she hadn’t known what to expect. Maybe, she had expected a single room with polished tiles and a couch tucked into the corner. She had expected something cold, something sterile, and something typical of hospitals.
However, the moment she stepped in earlier, her breath had caught.
It wasn’t a room. This was a world.
The suite stretched like a miniature penthouse carved into the hospital’s upper floor. It wad a quiet escape from the fluorescent buzz and sterile corridors outside.
A wall of glass gave way to a skyline blurred with the glow of evening, the curtains heavy and velvet, waiting to be drawn. The bed wasn’t the usual thin-framed cot.
This was a king-sized, cushioned bed, dressed in crisp gray linens and layered throws, designed to swallow Dominic’s tall frame without complaint.
There was a sitting area too, with soft leather sofas arranged around a low glass table. On it, someone had placed a tray of untouched fruit, a small luxury that looked almost out of place amidst IV poles and medical monitors.
A television screen stretched across one wall, muted but glowing. It was playing some late-night news no one had bothered to listen to.
The bathroom, where she now sat, was its own kind of retreat. It was wide, marbled, and with soft recessed lights that dimmed at a touch.
The jacuzzi tub whirred softly around her, releasing streams of bubbles that rose to kiss her skin. She hadn’t thought she’d need this, but after the chaos of the past hours, her body had demanded a moment of warmth, of silence, of pretending life was not tearing itself apart outside those doors.
Dominic was finally asleep, his chest rising steadily, his features softened by medication and exhaustion. For the first time since the accident, he had looked... comfortable. He looked almost boyish. He looked almost untouched by the pain that had ravaged him.
Celeste—her dear Celeste—her healing was steady, her body was responding slowly, but enough to breathe relief into Amara’s chest.
So she let herself bathe. Just for a little while. Just until Rodger returned with the clothes she had asked him to fetch for her from any mall around.
Her phone lit up again. Another vibration against the marble rim of the tub. She reached for it with a sigh.
"Are you alright?" Elias sent again, almost on top of her last reply. Another bubble followed immediately, impatient. It read. "When would you be back? Where are you?"
She stared at the messages. A dull ache pressed at her chest. Elias meant well, she told herself. He always meant well. But she had no strength to share this, not now. Especially not with him, for some reasons.
Her fingers moved quickly, and her reply left her sharp, and deliberate. "I’ll spend some days, or even weeks out."
She pressed send, dropped the phone back onto the marble rim, and closed her eyes.
The water hummed around her, bubbles rising and popping softly, but all she felt was the pull of exhaustion pressing heavy on her chest.
Another text beeped in.
Amara’s phone buzzed again, vibrating against the wet towel she had placed on the rim of the tub. She stared at it for a long moment before lifting it. Her fingers trembled slightly from exhaustion.
"Do you want me to come pick you up?"
Her lips parted, a sigh escaping. She scoffed, typed, deleted, and then typed again before settling on, "No. Don’t." She typed send, and rolled her eyes in exhaustion.
She let the phone drop to her chest, closing her eyes, and letting the weight of the world press down. The water in the jacuzzi gurgled around her, warm, soothing, and almost coaxing her into surrender.
But surrender wasn’t something Amara had ever been good at. She can’t tell him what happened. Not yet. Also, Celeste doesn’t like him.
Her thoughts shifted back to the sight of Celeste on that bed. Her beautiful small frame was swallowed by white sheets, and the machines beeping rhythmically as though mocking the fragility of her body. She just couldn’t forget about it.
Amara still couldn’t reconcile qith the fact that the woman on the bed, was the Celeste she knew. She couldn’t replace the bright laughter, quick words, and restless energy Celeste with the silent, unmoving girl in that bed. She clenched her jaw, shaking her head as though that could rid her of the image.
Another buzz broke her off her train of thought.
She groaned, dragging her phone back into her hand.
"I don’t like this. Tell me where you are, Amara. Belle?"
Her thumb hovered over the keyboard. Elias was many things. Persistent being the loudest of them, but she couldn’t tell him. She needed to protect Celeste from too many questions, anf too many eyes. And Elias, with his tendency to pry, wouldn’t stop once he knew.
So she wrote, "Stop asking. I’ll call you tomorrow."
This time, she set the phone face down on the towel and forced herself not to look at it again.
She leaned back, letting her head rest against the cool edge of the tub, steam brushing damp curls against her temples. For the first time in hours, maybe days, she breathed.
She let out a real breath. It was deep, and slow, filling her chest until it ached before letting it seep out of her lungs. She didn’t realize tears had slipped from her eyes until the salt mingled with the warmth of the water.