You're Scaring Me
HARDIN’S POV
I called her again.
No answer.
The silence on the other end wasn’t just frustrating—it was terrifying.
Ariana never ignored me. Not like this. Not for this long. My stomach had been in knots ever since I woke up in this hotel room, but now they twisted tighter with every second.
Something was wrong. I could feel it in my bones.
I paced the floor, my phone clenched in my fist, thumb hovering over her contact. I didn’t want to text her—texts could be ignored. But a call? A call meant urgency.
I tried one more time.
Ring.
Ring.
Voicemail.
My heart thundered. I couldn’t take it anymore.
I scrolled down and found her assistant’s number.
Joan.
She picked up on the second ring.
“Hello?” Her voice was brisk but slightly off—strained.
“Joan, it’s Hardin.”
A beat of silence.
Then, “Oh… Mr Richard.”
My grip on the phone tightened. “Where’s Ariana? She’s not answering her phone.”
Another pause.
“She’s… at the hospital.”
The floor dropped out from under me.
“What?”
“She was in an accident,” she said softly. “But she’s okay. The doctor said she has a minor concussion and some bruising. They’re keeping her overnight for observation.”
I could barely breathe. “Where? What hospital?”
“Chicago General.”
“I’m on my way.”
“Wait—”
But I’d already hung up.
My fingers moved on autopilot, calling the pilot before the thought had even fully formed in my mind. “Prep the jet. We’re flying back to Chicago immediately.”
“Yes, sir.”
I didn’t even pack properly. Just shoved clothes into my bag blindly, zipping it up with more force than necessary. My mind was already ten steps ahead, in that hospital room, beside her. Seeing her. Touching her. Knowing she was really okay.
When I stepped into the hallway, Beatrice was standing there like she’d been waiting.
“Hardin—wait,” she said, stepping into my path.
I didn’t stop.
She grabbed my arm. “What’s going on? Where are you going?”
I pulled away, eyes locked on the elevator down the hall. “Ariana’s in the hospital.”
“What?”
“She was in an accident. I’m going back to Chicago.”
“I—I can help. I’ll come—”
“No,” I cut her off sharply. “You’ve done enough.”
She reached for me again. “Please, don’t do this.”
I turned to her, voice low but lethal. “Handle whatever needs to be handled here in Switzerland. You wanted to be useful—there’s your chance.”
Then I walked away, leaving her frozen in place as the elevator doors slid shut between us.
*****
The flight back was a special kind of torture.
Every second stretched like rubber bands about to snap. I kept picturing her—her in a hospital bed, her head bandaged, her skin pale. What if she was in pain? What if she woke up and I wasn’t there?
My chest tightened.
I had no way to explain the past twenty-four hours to her. Not yet. But none of it mattered—not the lies, not Beatrice, not the creeping suspicion in my veins.
All that mattered was Ariana.
When we finally landed, I didn’t wait for the stairs to fully lower before jumping down them. My driver met me at the tarmac, and I barked out the hospital name before I’d even settled into the seat.
The city blurred past.
Traffic lights, honking horns, pedestrians, none of it registered. Just noise. Just static.
Until we pulled up to Chicago General.
I didn’t wait for the valet or the nurse at the front desk. I stormed through the halls like a man possessed until I found her room number. Joan was standing just outside, holding a cup of coffee and looking exhausted.
Her eyes widened when she saw me. “She’s asleep.”
“I need to see her,” I said, already reaching for the door.
Joan nodded. “She’s stable. Doctor says rest is the most important thing right now. Just... be gentle.”
I pushed the door open quietly.
The world stopped.
Ariana lay curled on her side, one arm tucked under the pillow. Her hair spilled across the white hospital linens like ink. A faint bruise peeked from beneath her collarbone. The machines around her beeped steadily, each sound like a metronome syncing with the beat of my heart.
She was breathing.
Alive.
I exhaled slowly and stepped closer, afraid that if I blinked, she’d disappear.
I reached out and took her hand, brushing my thumb softly over her knuckles. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake.
“I’m here,” I whispered, pressing my lips to the back of her hand. “God, I’m so sorry. I should’ve been there. I should’ve called sooner. I love you, baby. I love you so damn much.”
Her fingers twitched.
Then, slowly, her lashes fluttered.
And her eyes opened.
They were glassy, dazed—but they locked on mine almost immediately. My heart leapt.
“Hey,” I breathed, smiling through the flood of relief. “Hey, sweetheart. You’re okay. I’m here.”
She blinked, as if trying to focus. “Hardin?”
“Yes, love.” I leaned closer, thumb brushing a stray hair from her cheek. “It’s me.”
For a moment, something soft passed through her expression.
Then, just as I reached to cup her face, she recoiled.
Pulled away.
My hand froze midair.
“Ariana…?”
She didn’t answer.
She just looked at me. Cold. Wary. Like I was a stranger.
My chest caved in.
“Ari,” I whispered. “What’s wrong?”
Her jaw tightened. “Why are you here?”
I stared at her, unable to speak.
“I’m fine,” she added, turning her face away. “You can go.”
It was like she’d driven a knife straight through my ribs.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said, kneeling beside the bed now, desperate. “I’m staying right here with you. I was losing my mind not knowing if you were okay.”
She said nothing.
I reached for her hand again, but she pulled it beneath the blanket, clutching it to her chest.
“Ariana, please. Talk to me.”
Silence.
My breath hitched.
My mind raced through possibilities. Had she hit her head harder than they thought? Did she forget us? Did she forget me?
I tried again, gentler. “Sweetheart, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?”
She didn’t answer.
Didn’t blink.
Just stared straight ahead like I wasn’t even there.
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