Liam didn’t need more explanation. He knew exactly what had happened. Kyle Barrett. His ex-lover, a man consumed by jealousy and a thirst for revenge, had used a twisted lie to manipulate Isabelle, to drive a wedge between them.
The flowers he held seemed to weigh a ton in his hand. He knew he had to get to Isabelle. The thought of her alone and hurting, fueled a fire within him.
He walked swiftly towards the bathroom door with his heart pounding in his chest. He stopped at the door with the lilies still in his hand and his mind a whirlwind of fear and concern.
“Isabelle,” he called out with his voice soft and insistent. “Open the door.”
He waited, but only silence answered him. He knocked, softly at first, then harder with his knuckles rapping against the wood.
“Isabelle! Open up!” he pleaded with his voice tinged with urgency.
Silence.
He pressed his ear to the door, trying to discern what lay beyond. He could hear the sound of the running water like a gentle cascade and a melancholic symphony of despair.
The flowers slipped from his grasp, landing on the floor with a quiet thud. In a surge of primal instinct, he flung his entire weight against the door. The wood splintered, giving way under his force. The door swung open, revealing a scene that chilled him to the bone.
The bathroom was flooded. The water from the overflowing tub had spilled over, creating a shallow pool on the floor. Isabelle lay in the center of the bathtub with her clothes and shoes still on while her body was submerged in the cold water. Her eyes were closed and her face pale and slack.
Liam’s breath caught in his throat. His mind screamed with his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He rushed forward, his hand instinctively reaching for Isabelle’s wrist. He felt her pulse, a faint and fluttering beat. She was alive.
Releasing a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, he scooped her into his arms. The warmth of her body against his chest brought a surge of relief and a wave of gratitude washing over him.
“Penelope, take care of that bathroom, will you?!” He yelled over his shoulder, his voice a mixture of urgency and desperation.
Slipping on the wet floor, Liam almost lost his balance, but he held on tight, his every muscle straining to keep Isabelle safe. He rushed out of the bathroom, his heart hammering in his chest.
He carefully placed Isabelle in his car, his hands trembling slightly. His mind raced, trying to piece together what had happened, what had driven her to this.
‘I’m coming, Isabelle,’ he whispered, his voice a prayer. ‘I’m not going to let anything happen to you.’
He started the engine, the car roaring to life. He had to get her to a hospital, to safety, to a place where she could heal. He raced out of the garage, the car a blur of motion.
He reached the hospital, the car screeching to a halt in front of the emergency entrance. He burst out of the car, his heart beating in his chest, his mind consumed with a single purpose: to save Isabelle.
‘Help!’ he screamed, his voice raw with desperation. ‘There’s been an accident! Get a doctor!’
Nurses came rushing forward, their faces a mix of concern and surprise. They quickly collected Isabelle on a stretcher, whisking her away into the emergency room.
Liam was left standing there, his heart heavy with worry. He followed, his mind whirling with questions, his hand clutching the crumpled bouquet of lilies he had brought for her.
The nurses ushered him into a small waiting room, a sterile white space furnished with uncomfortable chairs and a flickering television. He sat down, his legs numb, his mind a maelstrom of thoughts.
‘What happened, Isabelle?’ he muttered, his voice barely audible. ‘What happened to you?’
His mind flashed back to the phone call she had received, a call that had led her directly to the brink. He knew, with a chilling certainty, that Kyle Barrett was behind this. His ex-lover, fuelled by a venomous jealousy, was playing a dangerous game, a game that threatened to destroy everything Liam had built, everything he held dear.
The waiting room was a prison of his own making, the walls closing in on him, the silence amplifying his anxiety. He couldn’t stay still. He paced back and forth, his mind racing, his body a conduit of frantic energy.
‘Sir, please sit down,’ a nurse said, her voice sharp, her gaze irritated. ‘Your pacing is disturbing the other patients.’
Liam stopped, his eyes meeting hers. He saw the annoyance in her eyes, the weariness of someone who had seen too much pain. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of guilt, his anxiety echoing in her impatient gaze.
He forced himself to sit down, his legs refusing to obey. His hands were clammy, his mind filled with an overwhelming sense of dread. He couldn’t bear the silence, the uncertainty, the weight of what might happen.
A long time passed. Liam thought the world had stopped, his heart had stopped, and even his breath had stopped. He was adrift in a sea of fear and despair.
Finally, a doctor emerged from the emergency room, his face serious, his eyes tired. He approached Liam, his steps heavy with the weight of the unspoken. ‘Mr. Callahan? Please, come with me.’
Liam stood up, his body stiff, his mind a haze of anticipation. He followed the doctor down a sterile white corridor, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew he was about to receive news that would change everything, news that would define the rest of his life, news that would determine the fate of his love for Isabelle.
As he walked into that office, his mind wouldn’t stop thinking of what exactly had happened, what exactly made Isabelle get into that bathtub. These were questions he hoped Isabelle would answer later.