SASHA’S POV
I lay back against the plush cushions of our massive bed, staring at the ceiling, the gentle hum of the house around me. The weight of everything that had happened between Sebastian and me still clung to the air, though it felt different now.
It was as if we had crossed some invisible line-an unspoken understanding that bonded us even more than before.
Tears welled up again, but this time, they were tears of relief. “Thank you,” I said softly, still holding my father’s hand. “Thank you for not giving up on him.”
“We never did,” Dr. Simmons said gently. “He’s a fighter, just like you.”
I couldn’t find the words to respond. My emotions were a whirlwind, and all I could do was stay there, by my father’s side, waiting for more signs of life.
I was finally starting to believe that everything might be okay. Maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t losing him after all.
As I sat there, my father’s hand firmly in mine, I couldn’t help but think of Sebastian. He had been my rock, holding me through so much.
And now, with my father showing signs of recovery, I knew I had to share this news with him. But for now, it was just me and my dad. We had a long road ahead, but this was the first real hope I had felt in so long.
I took a deep breath, squeezing my father’s hand again, and whispered, “Come back to me, Dad. Come back.”
The moments we shared in these last few hours were nothing short of perfect. And now, with him called away for work, I was left with the quiet of our home.
I rubbed my hand over my face, still feeling the warmth of him. The house was too big for just one person.
I had never liked the isolation that came with our wealth, even if the world around us saw it as a symbol of success.
Sometimes, I longed for the simplicity of normal life, where you didn’t need an army of bodyguards just to go out for coffee. But now, I am here-alone.
I reached for my laptop, a soft sigh escaping my lips as I opened it and stared at the screen. I had been thinking a lot about starting my own business lately, something that would be mine entirely.
A way to feel a little less dependent on Sebastian and this lifestyle that often made me feel trapped.
Scrolling through potential job opportunities and ideas, I felt a little uncertain.
There was so much I didn’t know, but the thought of having something to call my own pushed me forward. Maybe I’d start small-an online store, perhaps?
Something simple, yet personal. I found myself reading through job applications, trying to figure out what I could do, when the sudden shrill ring of my phone pierced the silence.
I jumped, instinctively reaching for it as it lit up with an unknown number. My heart skipped a beat when I saw it was from the hospital.
I felt a cold sweat rush down my spine as I answered quickly. “Hello?”
“Sasha?” The voice on the other end was calm, professional.
It took me a moment to recognize it-it was Dr. Simmons, the one who had been looking after my father since the accident.
“Yes, this is Sasha. Is everything okay?” I asked, my words tumbling out in a rush.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” Dr. Simmons continued, his tone softer now. “Your father… he’s moved his index finger.”
My chest tightened, my breath catching in my throat. I could hardly believe what I was hearing. “What do you mean? You mean he’s… he’s responsive?”
“Yes,” he said, a sense of relief in his voice.
“It’s a small movement, but it’s significant. We’re expecting a full recovery soon, though it will take time. He’s still in a coma, but this is a positive sign.”
I blinked, trying to process the words. Full recovery? After everything, after the endless days of sitting by his side, hoping for a sign… this was it.
The moment I had been waiting for. The hope I had clung to for so long.
Tears welled up in my eyes, and I felt them spill over. My breath came in short bursts as I held the phone tighter. “Thank you,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Thank you so much. I-” I couldn’t find the words.
“We’ll continue monitoring him closely, and I’ll keep you updated. But it’s good news, Sasha. He’s fighting.”
I nodded, though he couldn’t see me. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I said, the urgency in my voice clear. “Thank you, again.”
With the phone still clutched in my hand, I sat there for a moment, the weight of the news settling over me. I couldn’t waste another second. I had to see him, to be with him.
I quickly scrambled out of bed, barely registering the movements as I rushed to get ready.
The house was so quiet, so still, in a way that felt wrong now. I felt my heart pounding in my chest as I pulled on my jacket, grabbing my keys and my phone. I needed to go now. My father needed me.
Without waiting for any further thought, I rushed out of the house and to the waiting car outside.
The driver was already there, his eyes wide with concern when he saw the urgency in my face. I barely gave him time to open the door before I slipped inside.
“Take me to the hospital,” I ordered, my voice clipped.
“Of course, Mrs. Steel,” he replied, his tone respectful but quiet.
I pressed my fingers against my temple, trying to calm the wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm me. My mind was racing. I wanted to scream with joy, but at the same time, a deep pit of fear still gnawed at me.
What if it was too late? What if this was just a fluke? But no, I had to believe that it was real. This was the sign I had been praying for. My father was coming back to me.
The drive felt like it took forever, though I knew it wasn’t long before we reached the hospital. The car came to a stop in front of the entrance, and I barely waited for it to fully halt before I was out of the door and running inside.
My heels clicked against the floor, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet hallway. I could barely breathe, my pulse racing as I pushed through the doors and straight to the nurse’s station.
“Where is my father?” I asked breathlessly, my hands gripping the counter for support.
The nurse, a woman I recognized from my previous visits, looked up at me, a soft smile breaking across her face. “He’s in his room, Miss Steel. Dr. Simmons is with him.”
I didn’t need to hear more. I rushed toward the elevator, my heart pounding in my chest. I couldn’t wait. Every second felt like an eternity.
The elevator doors closed, and I stood there, gripping the railing as I stared at the numbers lighting up above the door. When it finally stopped, I rushed out, my feet barely touching the ground as I made my way to his room.
My father’s room was just ahead, the familiar scent of antiseptic and the soft hum of medical equipment filling the air.
When I stepped inside, I found Dr. Simmons standing at my father’s side. He was monitoring the machines, but his expression softened when he saw me.
“Sasha,” he greeted me quietly. “He’s stable. Still unconscious, but he’s showing signs of improvement.”
I walked to my father’s side, my hand trembling as I gently took his. He looked so still, so lifeless, but I could feel the faint warmth of his skin, a reassurance that he was still with me.
“I’m here, Dad,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I’m here. You’re going to be okay. You’re going to come back to us.”
I held his hand for what felt like an eternity, willing him to respond.
And just when I thought I couldn’t take the silence any longer, I saw it-a slight twitch in his finger. My heart leapt, and I squeezed his hand tighter.
“Did you see that?” I turned to Dr. Simmons, my voice full of disbelief. “He moved! His finger!”
Dr. Simmons nodded, his smile wide. “It’s a small movement, but it’s a movement. It’s a sign that his brain is waking up. This is the start of his recovery.”