Chapter 143: Chapter 143
Amara rushed downstairs. The elevator took its time, and every floor it passed gnawed at her nerves.
She tapped her foot, crossed her arms, checked her phone, then slipped it back in her pocket before pulling it out again. She wasn’t calm, not on the inside. Not when Elias just said he was coming.
The doors opened to the lobby, and she stepped out with purpose.
She already had the picture pulled up before she reached the desk. A snapshot she’d taken weeks ago, when Elias hadn’t been looking. His face stared up at her from the glow of her phone. His sharp jaw, calculated smile, and eyes that could pass off for harmless if you didn’t know him better.
She stopped in front of the two receptionists. Both of them looked up at once, polite, and expectant.
Amara didn’t waste time. "If this man shows up here," she lifted the phone so they could see, "tell him nothing. I mean nothing. About me, or the patient I came to see."
Her voice dropped cold as she leaned forward. "If you do, I’ll have your tongue on plates, and swap it between you two. Just know, I’ll force it down your throat. And when I do, you’ll be eating the next person’s tongue."
Their faces faltered. It was horror first, then disbelief, and then the slow, stiff stillness of people realizing she wasn’t joking.
That was all Amara needed. The silence told her they’d think twice before saying a word.
"Good."
She turned on her heel, pressed the elevator button, and rode it back up.
The suite was too quiet when she stepped inside. The hum of machines. The faint click of something dripping through tubes.
And Dominic was back to Celeste’s bedside.
He didn’t look up when she entered. His head was bent, with his hands resting close to Celeste’s still ones. He was a statue carved out of exhaustion and devotion.
However, his shoulders seemed to have relaxed after the short rest. She appreciated that.
Amara paused in the doorway, her chest tightening at the sight. She wanted to tell him to move, to eat, to let go, but the words stuck. She let him be.
She crossed the room instead, sat on the couch opposite Celeste’s bed, and crossed one leg over the other. Her heel tapped against the carpet once, twice, before she stilled it.
Her gaze lingered on Dominic. On the stubborn set of his shoulders. And on the shadow beneath his eyes.
She smacked her lips lightly, in thought. Then said, "Celeste told me you asked her to marry you."
That finally earned her a glance. A brief one. His eyes slid to hers, then back to Celeste. He said nothing.
"I was happy," Amara continued, her voice rougher than she intended. "Really, I was. But..." She let out a sharp exhale, shaking her head. "I haven’t been the same since this accident. I doubt I can pretend to give you my support at the moment."
The only reply she got was the faint rise and fall of Celeste’s chest under the blanket.
Dominic didn’t argue. He didn’t even try to defend himself. Amara let her eyes drift to Celeste too. Her heart pulled painfully tight.
"Her birthday is tomorrow." She tried to chuckle, but it broke halfway, splintering into something too painful. "She won’t even be twenty-five. One time, she joked about wanting her twenty-fifth birthday in a coma." Amara’s throat burned as she stared at her. "But she isn’t even twenty-five right now."
Amara pressed her nails into her knee until it hurt. Anything to keep steady. "Do you know what she told me the night of her last birthday?" Her voice cracked, then steadied. "She said she wanted strawberry cake for her next birthday. But not the fancy kind. The cheap one from that corner bakery with the ugly icing. She said it tasted like her childhood."
Her throat tightened. "I promised I’d get it for her. Now look."
Dominic’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing. His thumb moved once across Celeste’s palm, like he was reminding himself she was still warm.
"I wanted her to have the world on her birthdays, and stop having birthday blues. I know you do too." She paused, and smiled painfully.
"She wouldn’t have listened to either of us," Amara whispered. "She was stubborn like that."
Dominic nodded once, a short motion, as if agreement cost him.
The machine beeped again, steady, steady, steady, like a cruel reminder that she was alive but not with them.
"You think she hears us?" Amara asked suddenly.
Dominic’s silence stretched so long, she thought he wouldn’t answer. But then, slowly, he said, "I talk to her like she does. Because if she doesn’t—" His voice faltered, broke, and he swallowed the end.
Amara stared at him. He was a man with walls of iron, but even iron rusts under too much rain.
She couldn’t even hate him the way she wished she did.
Amara dug her nails into her palm, fighting the sting in her eyes. "Do you know what terrifies me the most?"
Dominic waited, saying nothing
"That she’ll wake up and not be the same." The confession slipped out, heavy, and jagged. "That I’ll look at her and she’ll look back, but it won’t be her anymore. It’ll be some... half-shadow. And I’ll be expected to smile and accept it."
Dominic’s throat bobbed. His gaze dropped to Celeste. "Or worse." His voice cracked without warning. "That she won’t wake up at all."
Dominic’s eyes glistened, but he didn’t look away from Celeste. "Every time the machine beeps, I imagine it stopping. I imagine silence. And then I imagine what I’d do if it did. And I don’t know if I’d survive it."
Dominic’s hand curled tighter around Celeste’s. His knuckles whitened. For the first time, he was ready to admit how scared he was.
She bit her lip hard. "What am I supposed to hold onto now?"
The question hung, suspended.
Dominic finally turned his head, looking at Amara properly this time. His eyes were hollow and sharp all at once. "You hold onto her," he said quietly. "The same way I do."