Scared
I stepped into the room, my heart pounding. Claire’s eyes were open, watching me as I walked closer. She didn’t say anything. She just... looked.
I smiled, trying to keep my emotions in check. “Hey, you,” I whispered. “It’s good to see you awake.”
Her fingers twitched slightly against the blanket, a small movement, but it was enough to make my chest tighten.
I pulled a chair beside her bed and sat down. “I have so much to tell you,” I said, my voice shaking slightly.
She blinked slowly, still silent, but I knew she was listening.
“Laura lost her front tooth last week,” I told her, forcing a small laugh. “She was so excited, waving it around like a prize. Then she cried because she thought the Tooth Fairy wouldn’t come if the tooth fell down the sink. I had to convince her that the Tooth Fairy has backup plans.”
I sniffled, wiping at my eyes. “Larry, of course, was completely unimpressed. He told her she should’ve been more careful, and they fought for a solid hour about it.”
Claire’s lips barely parted, like she wanted to say something but couldn’t.
I swallowed hard, forcing a smile. “I miss you,” I admitted. “So much. It hasn’t been the same without you.”
She blinked again, slowly, and something about the way her eyes softened made my throat close up.
I reached for her hand, careful and gentle. “You’ve been asleep for so long,” I whispered. “And I was so scared. I thought... I thought I lost you, Claire.”
A tear slipped down my cheek.
I couldn’t stop myself. I leaned forward, wrapping my arms around her as gently as I could, holding her even though she couldn’t hug me back.
Then, with a shaky voice, I started singing.
The same song we used to hum during late nights in college, when life felt impossible but we had each other.
Claire’s breathing hitched. Her fingers curled slightly against the sheet.
And I knew—she was still here.
Still fighting.
Still my Claire.
I let out a shaky breath, brushing away the tears streaming down her cheeks. “It’s okay,” I whispered, my fingers gently wiping them away. “You’re safe, Claire.”
She blinked at me, her expression unreadable. Then, without warning, she screamed.
A raw, piercing sound.
I flinched, my whole body going rigid. “Claire?”
She screamed again, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her hands trembled. Her eyes darted around wildly like she didn’t recognize where she was.
My stomach dropped.
“Claire, it’s me,” I said quickly, but she didn’t respond.
Her breathing turned erratic, her face twisting in panic.
I should’ve done something.
I knew what to do. I was a doctor. I had treated trauma patients before. I had read the case studies, handled emergencies. I knew the protocols, the steps.
But in that moment, none of it mattered.
I just sat there, frozen. Watching her.
I wasn’t a doctor. I wasn’t a researcher.
I was just a friend watching someone I loved fall apart.
The door burst open, and a team of doctors and nurses rushed in. They moved fast, working around me like I wasn’t even there.
One of the nurses gently pushed me aside.
I stepped back, numb, as I watched them try to stabilize her.
Someone adjusted her IV. Another injected something into her line. The lead doctor murmured instructions in a calm, steady voice.
Claire gasped sharply, her body shuddering.
Then, within seconds, she went still.
The monitor beeped steadily.
She was asleep.
I stood there, my hands still clenched, staring at her pale face.
A nurse touched my arm, making me jump.
“Dr. Laurent,” she said gently. “Come with me.”
I didn’t argue.
The nurse led me to a chair in the hallway, gently pressing on my shoulder until I sat. My hands were still trembling, my mind struggling to catch up with what had just happened.
Jo appeared almost immediately, her eyes scanning my face. “What happened?” she asked, kneeling in front of me.
Before I could answer, the nurse spoke. “It’s the trauma.” Her voice was calm, clinical, but not unkind. “Sometimes, when patients wake up after severe injuries, their brains struggle to adjust. The fear, the memories—it all comes rushing back. It can trigger panic episodes.”
I swallowed, nodding slowly, but before I could say anything, another voice cut through.
“She shouldn’t have gone in there.”
I looked up sharply.
A doctor stepped out of Claire’s room, pulling off his gloves with a slow, deliberate motion. His expression was unreadable, but there was a hint of disapproval in his tone.
I straightened. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” He tossed the gloves into the bin beside him, exhaling. “She just woke up from a coma. The last thing she needed was an emotional overload.”
Jo stood up beside me, arms crossed. “And you are?”
“Dr. Simmons,” he said, not even glancing at her. His eyes stayed on me. “I was part of her surgical team.”
I forced myself to stay calm. “Claire asked for me. I wasn’t going to ignore her.”
“I’m not saying you should have,” Dr. Simmons replied. “But you’re a doctor, Dr. Laurent. You know how fragile post-trauma patients can be. This wasn’t the time for an emotional reunion.”
His tone was measured, professional, but it still felt like a slap.
Jo scoffed. “Oh, please. What was she supposed to do? Pretend her best friend wasn’t lying in that bed?”
Dr. Simmons sighed, rubbing his temple. “Look, I get it. You care about her. But sometimes, caring means knowing when to step back.”
I clenched my fists. “I wasn’t there as a doctor. I was there as her friend.”
“And that’s exactly the problem,” he said, his voice softer now. “Right now, she needs careful monitoring. Stability. Not reminders of everything she’s lost.”
That hit harder than I wanted to admit.
I swallowed, my throat tight. “So what happens now?”
“She’s sedated,” Dr. Simmons said. “We’ll monitor her closely, adjust her medication if needed
. But if you want to help her, Dr. Laurent... give her space. Let us do our job.””
“Did you forget I own this research facility?”
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
