Chapter 63
Damian’s POV
We sped through the streets disrupted by traffic. Shit! Why was there always traffic?
My frustration boiled over.
“Move!” I shouted.
My driver honked the horn and inched forward. Finally, we broke through the congestion.
The hospital loomed ahead and I leapt out of the car. Rushed through the doors.
“Valerie Richardson?” I demanded.
A nurse pointed down the hall.
“ICU. Room 304.”
I sprinted, my heart racing.
What if… No. I wouldn’t think of it.
I burst into the room where Valerie lay motionless.
Tubes and wires snaked around her, monitors beeping incessantly.
A doctor approached.
“Mr. Richardson, I’m Dr. Lee. We’re doing everything we can.”
“How is she?” I cut in.
“Stable, but critical. The accident caused significant trauma. We’re monitoring her closely.”
“And the baby?”
Dr. Lee’s expression turned somber.
“We’re concerned about fetal distress. We’re running tests now.”
I felt like my world was about to crumble.
“What are the chances?”
“We’ll know more soon. But we need to focus on stabilizing Valerie first.”
I glared at the doctor.
“Fix this.”
Dr. Lee nodded.
“We’re doing everything we can, Mr. Richardson.”
I turned to Valerie and took her hand.
“You’re mine,” I whispered.
“You’ll always be mine.”
Valerie’s eyes flickered open.
For a moment, our gazes locked. Then hers closed again.
I held my breath. Waiting and praying for her to wake up. For everything to go back to normal.
But deep down… A voice whispered. You may have lost her forever.
“Sir?” Dr. Lee said.
“Yes?”
“We’ve found Senator Richardson. I believe he is your father. He’s… not in good condition.”
My mind flashed to my father.
No. Not now.
“Where is he?” I demanded.
“Room 307. But, Mr. Richardson, I must warn you-”
“I’ll see him now.”
I strode out of the room.
My father’s condition was grim. His frail figure lay underneath the white sheets with oxygen masks and wires laced around his face.
“Please be fine, Dad. That is all I ask” I squeezed his palm lightly before leaving the room.
I returned to Valerie’s room and sat beside her holding her hand.
Waiting and praying for a miracle.
The machines beeped while Valerie’s chest rose and fell.
I whispered.
“Come back to me. Don’t leave me.”
But the only response was silence and the steady beep of the machines.
Hours passed but I refused to leave; refused to give up.
Valerie would wake up and everything would go back to normal.
The doctor stepped in again, handing a piece of paper to me. I was puzzled as I looked intently at the paper before unfolding it. It read:
Paternity Test Results
“This paper was found in her handbag. I thought it might be of interest to you.” The doctor said before leaving.
I read the paper over and over again. The baby was mine! It was mine afterall! I am well now. I can now be called a father proudly.
Tear drops formed in my eyes. I felt like screaming in excitement. Then I remembered how I had treated Valerie.
“Valerie, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for how I treated you coldly. I am willing to make up for it a million times. I know you must hate me now.” I squeezed her hands as the tears flowed.
“Valerie, just hang on. I promise to take good care of you and the baby. Please. Just don’t die.” I ran my hand over her belly, to feel my child.
A feeling of fulfillment surged through me as I left the room. Valerie will live. I’m sure of it. We’ll become a family again.
*********
A day had passed since the accident, and we were still trapped in the hospital’s bleak reality. My mother, Valerie’s parents, Anderson and Emily, and I waited anxiously for any update on Valerie’s condition. The tension in the room was palpable, our collective anxiety hanging like a heavy fog.
The doctor entered the room, his expression somber.
“Mr. Richardson, Mrs. Richardson, Mr. and Mrs. Smith,” he began, his voice gentle but laced with sorrow.
“I’m afraid I have some difficult news to share.” My heart sank, anticipating the worst.
“What is it?” my mother asked, her voice trembling. The doctor took a deep breath before delivering the devastating blow. “Valerie… she lost the baby.” The room erupted into tears.
My world crumbled. I felt like I’d been punched in the gut, repeatedly. My child, my heir, gone. The thought was unbearable. I couldn’t process it. I couldn’t breathe.
But the doctor wasn’t finished. His voice cracked as he continued,
“And… I’m sorry to inform you that Mr. Richardson Senior didn’t survive the accident. We tried our best but he lost so much blood.”
My mother’s wails pierced the air, a heart-wrenching cry that shook me to my core.
No. This couldn’t be. My father, gone? I felt like I’d been punched again, my legs buckling beneath me. I collapsed onto the chair, my vision blurring.
Anderson and Emily rushed to my mother, embracing her tightly. Their bodies shook with sobs, their faces etched with sorrow. Valerie’s mother screamed, “No! Oh, God, no!” Her anguish was a knife to my soul.
I stood up, stumbled to my mother, and wrapped my arms around her. We held each other, tears streaming down our faces. My father, my rock, my mentor… gone. And our child… gone.
The doctor’s voice faded into the background, but his words still echoed in my mind. “We’ll continue to monitor Valerie’s condition… brain activity… damage…”
It didn’t matter. My father was gone. Our child was gone. Valerie’s future hung in the balance.
Valerie’s stillness mocked me, her silence deafening. I whispered to her, “Why?” Why did this happen? Why did our child have to die? Why did my father have to leave us? Why did our world have to shatter? But there was only silence. And tears. And despair.
The hospital room dissolved into chaos. Sobs and wails filled the air, a symphony of grief. I lost track of time, lost track of reality. All I knew was pain, grief, and loss.
As I looked around the room, I saw the faces of those I loved, etched with sorrow.
My mother’s eyes were red-rimmed, her face pale. Anderson and Emily clung to each other, their bodies shaking. And Valerie… Valerie lay still, her future uncertain.
The weight of our loss crushed me. My father, my child, possibly Valerie… it was too much to bear. I felt like I was drowning in grief, suffocating under the weight of my sorrow.
And yet, I had to hold on. For Valerie. For my mother. For the sake of our shattered family. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the long, dark road ahead. But the haunting thought lingered… what if Valerie never wakes up? What if I lose her too?
It’s been 72 hours since Valerie’s accident. My world shattered in an instant, leaving me reeling. I’ve barely slept or eaten, my mind consumed by thoughts of Valerie lying unconscious in that hospital bed.
Her beautiful face, once full of life and vitality, now pale and still. The machines surrounding her, beeping and whirring, keeping her alive. But for how long?
My mother sits beside me, her eyes red-rimmed from crying, her face etched with worry.
“Damian, you need to take care of yourself,” she whispers, placing a gentle hand on my arm.
But I shake my head, unable to comprehend how I can focus on myself when Valerie’s fighting for her life.
Valerie’s parents, Anderson and Emily, enter the room, their faces somber, their eyes filled with tears. “Any update?” John asks, his voice laced with desperation.
I shake my head, feeling a lump form in my throat. “Nothing’s changed,” I reply, trying to keep my emotions in check.
Emily breaks down, sobs wracking her body. My mother rushes to comfort her, embracing her in a warm hug.
Anderson’s face twists in anguish, his eyes welling up with tears. “We can’t lose her too,” he whispers, his voice cracking.
I feel a pang of sorrow, knowing that we’re all thinking the same thing.
The doctor enters, his expression serious. “Mr. Richardson, we’re doing everything we can,” he says, but his tone tells a different story.
A story of doubt. Of uncertainty. My mother stands, her eyes locked on the doctor. “Doctor, what’s happening?” she demands, her voice firm.
The doctor hesitates, choosing his words carefully. “We’re monitoring Valerie’s brain activity. There’s… some damage.”
Some damage? What does that mean? Will she wake up? Will she remember me? Us? Our life together?
The questions swirl in my mind, but I don’t ask. I’m afraid of the answers.
Valerie’s parents leave, their tears and sorrow echoing down the hallway.
My mother stays, holding my hand, trying to comfort me.
But I’m beyond comfort. I’m trapped in a nightmare, a never-ending cycle of fear and uncertainty.
As the hours tick by, the hospital room grows darker, as if the shadows themselves are closing in.
I feel suffocated, trapped, helpless. Valerie’s stillness mocks me, her silence deafens me.
I whisper to her, my voice barely audible. “Come back to me.” Please. Come back to me.
But there’s only silence. And the beeping machines. And my shattered heart.