Chapter 30

Chapter 30
Colette arrived at the hospital with a heavy heart, her steps slow and measured as she made her way through the sterile hallways. For years, she had been estranged from her Aunt Beth, the woman who had raised her after her parents' death. Their relationship had always been strained, marked by a sense of obligation rather than affection. But today, something was different. Aunt Beth’s usual stern expression was softened by worry, her hard edges worn down by the fear of losing her husband.

When Colette entered the room, Aunt Beth looked up, her eyes widening in surprise and, perhaps for the first time, a hint of relief. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said, her voice uncharacteristically gentle, though she didn’t say much more than that. It was enough. Colette could see the exhaustion etched into her aunt’s face, the deep lines that worry had carved into her once-imposing features.

As they sat together, the silence between them was heavy, but not uncomfortable. Colette noticed with a pang of sadness that none of Aunt Beth’s own children had come. “Jaime is in the US,” Aunt Beth confessed quietly, her voice betraying a deep sorrow. “Not sure if he’ll be able to make it in time.” She didn’t mention her daughter, the one who had been estranged for years, and Colette didn’t press the issue.
As Colette sat with Aunt Beth in the sterile waiting room, the tension was palpable. The doctors had informed them that Uncle Steve was undergoing bypass surgery, but his deteriorating health and age left little hope. Colette tried to comfort her aunt, urging her to have faith, knowing it was all they could do.

Aunt Beth broke the silence, her voice tinged with surprise. “I’m amazed you came, given your own problems.” Colette was taken aback, unsure what Aunt Beth meant. She hadn’t shared the turmoil in her marriage with anyone.

Then Aunt Beth mentioned, “Your uncle and I were saddened to hear about it. How is Matheo?” Colette’s confusion deepened until her aunt clarified, “The fire at one of his hotels—we saw it on the evening news. Sad business. I hope no one was mortally hurt?”

Colette’s heart sank. Matt had mentioned a fire before he left, but she had dismissed it, convinced it was a ploy by Iris to pull him back to Sydney. The realization that it might be true hit her like a cold wave. She had hidden his phone, assuming the worst, and now the guilt gnawed at her.

She couldn’t process it fully, not with so many people around, and certainly not with Aunt Beth waiting for a response. All she could manage was a nod, which seemed to satisfy her aunt. They sat in silence, the minutes stretching into an hour.

Colette quietly searched the internet on her phone, her fingers trembling as she scrolled through news about the fire. Relief washed over her when she found out that no one had been hurt, but the guilt remained, a heavy burden she couldn’t shake. She had let her insecurities and assumptions cloud her judgment, and the consequences felt unbearable.

As the evening deepened, the doctors emerged with the news that Uncle Steve’s surgery was complete, but they had kept him in a medically induced coma to aid his recovery. They advised Colette and Aunt Beth to return home for the night. Colette considered going back to Zoe’s but couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her aunt alone on such a difficult night.

When Aunt Beth’s driver arrived, Colette decided to accompany her. As they settled into the car, her aunt hesitated. "Wouldn’t Matt mind you coming with me?" she asked, her voice laced with concern. Colette, summoning patience, replied softly, "He isn’t home anyway." Thankfully, Aunt Beth didn’t press the matter further, and they continued the drive in a quiet understanding.
The next day, Colette and Aunt Beth found themselves back at the hospital, sitting in the sterile waiting area, a sense of dread hanging between them. They were united in their vigil, their eyes constantly darting to the doors, hoping for some news about Uncle Steve. Despite the doctors' reassurances that it could take a day or more for him to wake up, Colette noticed the fear that lingered in her aunt's eyes—a fear that spoke of the uncertainty and helplessness that only comes when a loved one’s life hangs in the balance.

They had never talked as openly as they did that day, the tension of waiting loosening their tongues. Conversations that once might have felt strained or awkward now flowed more freely. The weight of grief and anxiety seemed to strip away any pretense, leaving them bare and vulnerable to each other’s emotions. Colette found herself sharing thoughts and feelings she’d kept hidden for years, and Aunt Beth did the same. For the first time, Colette felt a genuine closeness to the woman who had raised her after her parents died—a bond formed not out of obligation but out of shared sorrow.

As the hours dragged on, the room around them seemed to fade into the background. The muted beeps of hospital machinery and the distant chatter of nurses became a distant hum, almost forgotten in the quiet intensity of their conversation. Colette could see that her aunt was holding on to hope, though it was fragile and worn thin by the relentless passage of time.

When visiting hours finally ended, there was still no change in Uncle Steve’s condition. They stood together, gathering their things in silence, the reality of the situation weighing heavily on their shoulders. The patient was stable, but he hadn’t woken up, and the uncertainty gnawed at them both.

As they walked out of the hospital that evening, the sky darkening above them, Colette felt an ache in her chest. It wasn’t just for her uncle, lying unconscious and vulnerable, but for her aunt, who seemed smaller, more fragile than ever before. They had no good news to bring home with them, just the same hollow uncertainty that had followed them there. Yet, in that shared silence, Colette knew they had found something else—an unspoken understanding, a connection forged in the quiet, agonizing hours of waiting.
On the third morning, as Colette and Aunt Beth returned to the hospital, the familiar routine unfolded once again. The sterile walls and clinical smells were beginning to feel like a second home, though not one either of them wanted. Aunt Beth, ever the concerned matriarch, asked about Matt as she had done each morning, her voice laced with a subtle hint of worry. “How is your husband? Is the problem at his hotel taken care of?”

Colette’s heart sank a little at the question. The time was nearing when she would have to reveal the truth to her aunt, to everyone, including herself. She hadn’t yet contacted a lawyer to begin the divorce process, though she knew it was inevitable. For now, she clung to the routine of searching for news about Matt every morning, needing something—anything—to tell Aunt Beth when she asked.

“He went to the Maldives yesterday. The fire incident is taken care of,” she replied, trying to sound nonchalant. The words tasted bitter in her mouth, knowing the truth behind them.

The night before, Colette had stumbled upon photos of Matt at a beach resort in the Maldives. He was wearing nothing but a pair of swimming trunks, his tanned skin glowing under the tropical sun. And beside him, in a striking red bikini, was Iris. The golden sands of the tropics stretched out behind them, the perfect backdrop to what looked like a carefree vacation. The article accompanying the photos mentioned that Matt was there to buy the resort, but the details didn’t matter. What mattered was the sight of them together, the way Iris leaned into him, the easy familiarity between them. It was like a knife twisting in her heart, a cruel reminder of the man she had lost.

Later, she had confided in Zoe, hoping for some comfort, but her friend’s blunt advice had only added to the turmoil. “If I were you, I’d kill him for it,” Zoe had said, her voice dripping with indignation. Then, in her no-nonsense way, she added, “But of course, you’re not me. So, divorce him and fleece him for every penny you can get your hands on. At least then his next wife, Iris Lawson, will find him much less attractive with half his assets gone.” Zoe’s laughter had echoed in Colette’s ears long after they hung up, the harsh reality of her situation settling in. Iris had been successful in upsurping her place in Matt’s and if Zoe is correct, which she mostly is, she was going to be Matt’s next wife. And she had felt sick to her stomach at that realization, her body had gave an involuntary shiver.
But Uncle Steve hadn’t woken up that day either. The hours stretched into an eternity as Colette and Aunt Beth lingered just outside the waiting area, the air thick with the sterile scent of hospital antiseptics and the quiet hum of machinery. Colette clutched a lukewarm cup of coffee, its bitter taste doing little to soothe her frayed nerves. Aunt Beth sat beside her, lost in her own world of worry, her hands trembling slightly as she sipped at the liquid.

The silence between them was heavy, yet oddly comforting—an unspoken bond formed in shared anxiety. Colette was about to say something, anything to break the tension, when she became aware of someone standing beside them. She looked up, and her breath caught in her throat.

It was Matt.

He stood there, seemingly out of place in the clinical surroundings, dressed in one of his impeccable three-piece suits. The suit, a deep charcoal with subtle pinstripes, clung to his broad shoulders, exuding the power and confidence he usually carried so effortlessly. But today, something was different. His usually sharp, commanding presence was muted, overshadowed by the weight of something much heavier.

His face, once so familiar, now seemed foreign to her. The strong lines of his jaw were tense, his mouth set in a grim line, but it was his eyes that truly struck her. They were hollow, darkened with exhaustion and something else—something she hadn’t seen in him before. Sadness. It was as if the weight of the world had settled on his shoulders, dragging him down into a pit of despair he couldn’t escape.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the bustling hospital faded away. It was just the two of them, locked in a silent exchange that spoke more than words ever could. He looked at her with those forlorn eyes, as if she had betrayed him in ways she couldn’t even comprehend. It was a look that tore at her heart, unraveling the fragile threads of anger and resentment she had been clinging to.