Chapter 64
Damian’s POV
The darkness deepens, a chasm opens within me, a void that threatens to consume me whole.
I cling to Valerie’s hand, my lifeline, my hope, my everything.
As the darkness closes in, I pray. For Valerie. For us. For our future.
But the silence is deafening. And I’m left with… nothing. But despair. And the haunting thought… what if she never wakes up?
I glance at Valerie, her face serene, peaceful. But I know the truth. Her body’s fighting, struggling to recover.
I take a deep breath, trying to find strength. For her. For us. I lean forward, my lips brushing against her ear. “Fight, Valerie. Fight for us.”
**********
(Some days later)
I stood beside Valerie’s hospital bed, my eyes fixed on her pale face. Days had passed since the accident, and I’d lost count of the hours I’d spent waiting for her to wake up.
My mother and Valerie’s parents had tried to convince me to take breaks, but I couldn’t leave her side.
Suddenly, Valerie’s eyelids flickered. My heart skipped a beat. She stirred, her gaze drifting around the room. Confusion etched on her face.
“Valerie?” I whispered, my voice trembling.
She turned to me, her eyes narrowing. “Where… where am I?”
I smiled, relief washing over me. “You’re in the hospital, Valerie. You were in an accident.”
Her brow furrowed. “Accident?”
I nodded. “Yes, you and my father… you were going…”
Valerie’s eyes widened, and she sat up, wincing in pain. “Oh God…”
Memories flooded back, and her expression changed from confusion to horror. She stared at me, her eyes filled with tears.
“Damian,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
“How are you feeling?” I reached for her hand, but she jerked it away.
“Stay away from me!” she shouted, her voice echoing through the hospital room.
I recoiled, hurt. “Valerie, please…”
But she glared at me, her eyes blazing with anger and fear.
“Get away from me!” she screamed.
The doctor rushed in, his face stern. “Mr. Richardson, I need you to leave the room.”
I hesitated, unsure of what to do.
“Please, Damian,” Valerie begged, tears streaming down her face. “Just leave me alone.”
The doctor’s firm tone brooked no argument. “Now, Mr. Richardson.”
I reluctantly stepped back, my heart heavy. As I left the room, I heard Valerie’s sobs and the doctor’s soothing voice.
“What’s going on?” I demanded, turning to the doctor in the hallway.
“Mr. Richardson, Valerie’s experiencing post-traumatic stress,” he explained. “She needs time and space to process her emotions.”
I nodded, feeling a mix of guilt and frustration.
“But what about us?” I asked.
The doctor’s expression softened. “Give her time, Damian. She needs to heal, physically and emotionally.”
I watched through the hospital room window as Valerie cried, her body shaking with sobs. The doctor and nurses surrounded her, offering comfort.
Why did she push me away? I half expected. Maybe she is upset with me about what happened earlier.
Did she blame me for the accident? For losing our child? For my father’s death?
Questions swirled in my mind as I stood in the hallway, feeling helpless.
Valerie’s words echoed in my mind: “Stay away from me.”
Did she mean it?
Or was it just a reaction to her trauma?
I didn’t know what to do.
All I knew was that I loved her and I’d do anything to make her happy.
Even if it meant giving her space.
But how long could I stay away? And what would happen when she finally remembered everything?
Would she ever forgive me? Or would she leave me forever?
The uncertainty gnawed at my soul.
As I walked away from the hospital room, I was engulfed in deep thoughts.
I wandered the hospital corridors, lost in thought. The sterile smell and beeping machines seemed to fade into the background as I struggled to make sense of Valerie’s reaction.
Hours passed, and I found myself back at Valerie’s doorstep, hesitating. The doctor’s words echoed in my mind: “Give her time.”
But how much time? And what would happen when she finally faced me again? Would she still want me?
Or would she push me away forever?
The questions haunted me as I stood outside her hospital room.
The hospital room door opened, and the doctor stepped out.
“Mr. Richardson,” he said gently, “Valerie needs rest. Please come back tomorrow.”
I nodded, feeling a pang of disappointment.
(The next day)
The hospital doors swung open, and Valerie stepped out, her eyes cast downward. She was finally discharged, but the relief was overshadowed by the crushing grief that had been weighing her down.
I stood beside her, my arm tentatively extended, but she shrugged it off.
Today was my father’s burial.
The thought sent a pang through my chest.
Valerie’s silence was deafening. She hadn’t spoken to anyone since waking up in the hospital.
Not to me. Not even to her parents. Not to anyone.
The loss of our child had shattered her.
As we arrived at the burial ground, the somber atmosphere enveloped us. Mourners dressed in black, their faces etched with sorrow.
My mother’s eyes were red-rimmed, her face pale.
Mr. Anderson and Emily, Valerie’s parents, clung to each other, tears streaming down their faces.
The minister began to speak, his words a gentle breeze on a summer day, but they brought no comfort.
Valerie stood apart, her eyes fixed on the ground.
I longed to hold her, to comfort her.
But she’d made it clear she didn’t want my touch. Nor did she want my words.
The minister’s voice faded into the background as I gazed at Valerie.
Her beauty was marred by grief. Her eyes, once bright, now dull. Her smile, once radiant, now a distant memory.
My father’s casket lay before us, a stark reminder of what we’d lost.
I felt a lump form in my throat.
My father, gone.
Our child, gone.
Valerie, lost to me.
The minister’s final words echoed through the silence.
“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…”
The mourners bowed their heads.
Valerie’s eyes remained fixed on the ground.
I took a step forward, my eyes locked on my father’s casket.
Goodbye, Dad. Rest in peace.
The thought was a razor’s edge, cutting through my emotions.
As the burial ended, the mourners began to disperse.
Valerie turned, her eyes meeting mine for a fleeting moment.
But she looked away, her face a mask of pain.
I knew she was hurting. I knew she needed time.
But it was hard to give her space. Hard to not hold her. Hard to not tell her how much I loved her.
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the burial ground.
But the beauty of the sunset was lost on me. Lost on Valerie. Lost on our shattered family.
As we walked away from the grave, I felt the weight of our grief.
“Valerie,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
But she didn’t respond. She didn’t even look back. Just kept walking. Away from me.
Leaving me with only one question:
Would she ever come back to me?
********
After the burial, the lawyer, Mr. Jenkins, gathered us in the living room of my family’s estate.
Valerie sat beside her parents, her eyes still cast downward, her face pale. My mother sat across from me, her eyes red-rimmed from crying.
“Thank you all for gathering here today,” Mr. Jenkins began, his voice somber. “As you know, Mr. Richardson Senior left behind a will, and it’s my duty to read it to you.”
He cleared his throat and began to read.
“I, Frederick Richardson, being of sound mind and body, hereby declare this to be my last will and testament…”
The words blurred together as Mr. Jenkins continued reading. I tuned out, my mind still reeling from the events of the past few days.
But then, Mr. Jenkins’ words caught my attention.
“… I leave all my wealth, properties, and assets to my son, Damian Richardson, on the condition that he has a child within ten months from the date of my passing.”
“What?” I exclaimed, my voice echoing through the room.
Mr. Jenkins nodded. “Yes, Damian. Your father’s will stipulates that you must have a child within ten months to inherit his wealth.”
I was flabbergasted.
But what about Valerie? She’d just lost our child. How could my father do this to us?
My mother’s eyes widened in shock. “Frederick, why would you do this?” she whispered.
Mr. Jenkins shrugged. “I’m afraid Mr. Richardson Senior was very specific about this condition.”
Valerie’s head snapped up, her eyes locking onto mine.
For a moment, I thought I saw a glimmer of hope.
But it was quickly extinguished.
She looked away, her face a mask of pain. I felt a pang of guilt.
How could my father put this burden on us?
On Valerie?
Especially after what we’d just gone through?
The room fell silent, the weight of my father’s condition hanging in the air.
“What happens if Damian doesn’t meet the condition?” Anderson asked, his voice hesitant.
Mr. Jenkins’ expression turned grave. “If Damian doesn’t have a child within ten months, the entire estate will be donated to charity.”
I felt like my world was crumbling.
My father’s wealth, gone? Because of a condition that seemed impossible to fulfill?
I looked at Valerie, my heart heavy.
How could we do this? How could we have another child? After everything we’d lost?
The thought seemed cruel. But the will was clear. I had ten months. Ten months to convince Valerie to try again. Ten months to rebuild our shattered family.
Or lose everything.
The clock was ticking.