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Yalda stirred beneath the heavy silk sheets, the sweet ache of last night’s closeness still tingling through her skin. She stretched lazily, muscles relaxed and mind still wrapped in the haze of tender moments shared with Ioannis. His scent lingered on her, like it did every morning.
She stared up at the ceiling lazily as she drank in the quiet moment of tranquil. But the quiet was shattered by the sharp buzz of her phone on the nightstand.
She groaned softly, reluctant to move. The last thing she wanted was to be pulled out of this delicate cocoon. Her fingers brushed over the device, tangled in the warmth of the sheets, before finally reaching for it. The screen lit up, displaying a name that made her heart tighten; Carl.
She hadn't turned off her other phone since the day she called Riley, she had merely kept it lying around on the nightstand. Her eyes widened slightly as she stared at the screen. Why was Carl calling her all of a sudden?
Her pulse quickened. Such calls from the past were never casual, they came loaded with urgency, with news that disturbed the fragile peace she’d fought so hard to build. Yalda’s breath hitched as she slid the phone to her ear, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Hello?”
“Miss Harris,” Carl’s voice was calm, yet there was an unmistakable weight behind it. “How have you been?”
The question should have been simple, but it struck her like a thunderclap. How had she been? Overwhelmed by memories she tried to bury, haunted by a past she wanted to forget. She swallowed hard, voice tight.
“Carl... please, just tell me what this is about. I’m not in the mood for small talk.”
There was a pause, a breath on the other end, as if he was preparing himself. “Mr. Monroe... he’s been admitted to the hospital,” Carl said slowly, deliberately. “It’s serious. He’s been unconscious for more than twenty-four hours.”
Yalda’s world seemed to tilt. The silk sheets that had felt so soft and safe suddenly felt like a cage. A sharp shiver ran through her limbs as the sweetness of last night evaporated into cold dread.
“Unconscious?” The word barely escaped her lips, trembling and disbelieving. “How? What happened?”
Carl’s tone remained steady but distant, like a man delivering a verdict. “I don’t have many details, but we knew he's been unhealthy all along, didn't we?"
Yes, yes she knew he wasn't completely fine; the random bleeding of his nose, his inability to eat and sleep properly, the dark circles that sometimes rimmed his eyes. But she hadn't thought it was serious, she hadn't thought it would render him unconscious for more than twenty-four hours.
Her heart was pounding erratically in her chest now, she felt almost faint.
The knot in Yalda’s stomach tightened until it felt like it would squeeze the breath out of her. She pressed her free hand to her chest, trying to steady the rapid beating of her heart.
“I... I need to know more,” she said, her voice barely audible. She realized she was almost crying. “Where is he? Should I come?”
Another brief pause. “He’s in the intensive care unit at St. Mark’s Hospital. You’re welcome to come if you want... but the situation is critical. The doctors aren’t sure what will happen.”
More tears welled up in her eyes, blurring the soft morning light into shimmering streaks. She wiped them away hastily, ashamed of her vulnerability but unable to stop the flood.
Her voice cracked as she whispered, “I’ll come.”
Carl’s reply was low and measured. “Alright. Call me if you need anything. Take care, Miss Harris."
The line went dead.
Yalda stared at the black screen, heart pounding so loudly she feared she'd go deaf.
She slid from the bed, legs weak and trembling, and wrapped herself in a robe. The scent of vanilla still clung to the air, mingling with the salty breeze drifting through the open window, but nothing could chase away the storm raging inside her.
Her mind raced; Alexander, the man she’d loved and lost, the man who had haunted her dreams and her waking hours. How could he be lying unconscious? How could things have gotten this bad?
The questions spiraled, overwhelming her with guilt, fear, and a deep, aching sadness.
Her phone buzzed again, this time a message from Ioannis: 'Good morning, love. Sleep well? I’ll be back by noon. Miss you.'
Yalda’s fingers hovered over the screen. She wanted to tell Ioannis everything, to reach for his steady presence. But how could she admit to the confusion and pain she felt? How could she let him in before she understood it herself?
Instead, she typed simply, 'I miss you too.'
Collapsing onto the edge of the bed, she buried her face in her hands, tears finally falling freely. The pain that had been tucked beneath layers of new beginnings now roared to the surface, threatening to drown her.
Her world had shifted again, the fragile ground beneath her feet cracking open. The peace she’d fought to find with Ioannis was suddenly overshadowed by the shadow of a man she thought she had left behind.
The phone felt heavy in her h
and, a tether to a past she wasn’t sure she was ready to face.
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