ISABELLA’S POV
The first thing I noticed was the sll.
Sterile. Sharp. The faint sting of antiseptic buried under a sweeter note — lilies, maybe. Or death pretending to be gentle.
...Adrien?
Where am I?
The question was mute, trapped beneath the arid landscape of my mouth.
The world ca back to in fragnts.
Sound before sight. Pressure before pain.
A distant beeping. A soft, rhythmic hiss — chanical breathing that wasn’t mine. My throat burned. My chest ached like soone had stitched fire into my ribs. When I tried to move, the sheets rasped against my skin, cool and sterile.
My eyes tried to open a little but it flutter to white. Too much white. I stopped trying to make them open as they felt too heavy. Am I dead?Is this heaven? Or worse...hell?
For a few seconds, I couldn’t move. Couldn’t even rember how to breathe without counting it.
In.
Out.
In again.
Light pressed behind my eyelids, not a gentle dawn, but a harsh, unwavering glare, like a thousand suns condensed into a single, sterile beam. It pushed against the fragile barrier of my lids, demanding entry. I swallowed, the motion a dry, rasping scrape in my throat, and tried again to open my eyes.
This ti, a sliver of the world bled through. Not white, not yet. Just a blurry, indistinct canvas of pale creams and muted greens. Shapes without edges, colours without nas. It was like looking through frosted glass, or perhaps, for the briefest, terrifying instant, through water. Am I subrged? The thought sparked a fresh wave of panic, tightening an invisible band around my chest, making the chanical breathing sound impossibly loud. My own breath hitched, short and shallow. I focused on the rhythmic hiss, trying to match it, trying to rember what it ant to breathe without conscious effort.
And then mory hit.
The crash.
Elise’s hand reaching for .
The sll of smoke.
The taste of iron in my mouth.
The video.
Adrien’s voice — Baby, I’m your boyfriend. I’ve touched you plenty of tis.
My stomach twisted violently.
My breath caught, jagged and raw. I clawed weakly at the sheets, trying to find my bearings, to wake up properly, but everything hurt — my head, my chest, my heart.
And then, a sound cut through the drone. A soft click, followed by a low, murmured voice, too muffled to understand, but undeniably human. I heard footsteps, approaching. Soone was here. Soone knew where I was. Fear, sharp and cold, sliced through the fog. Or was it hope?
I managed to peel my eyelids apart, a sticky, slow effort. The white ceiling resolved into a field of acoustic tile, perforated with tiny holes that promised to absorb sound but failed utterly.
I was lying down, horizontal, heavy. My left leg felt encased in concrete, and a cold, tight pressure bandaged my ribs. A thin plastic tube snaked into the crook of my right arm, tethering to a chro pole that dripped colorless liquid.
Hospital.
The word arrived, small and clinical, offering no details, only location. I closed my eyes again as everything got blurry and my lids felt heavy.
"Mrs. Walton?"
The voice was calm, careful. Female. Aria? Elise? Who knew to call that?
My eyelids fluttered open again, the light searing through blurred vision until it settled on a familiar face — thin glasses, hair pulled into a tight bun, eyes that tried not to betray pity.
Dr. Kassel.
I knew her. I’d seen her before. Adrien trusted her with everything. The sight of her should’ve ant safety — it only made my throat close tighter.
I tried to speak, but only a rasp ca out. The effort tore through my throat, my voice cracking like dry paper.
"Easy, Mrs. Walton," she said softly, the sound of my married na cutting through the haze. "You’re safe."
My lips parted, but the words tangled in my throat. My tongue felt too heavy. She seed to understand. She reached for sothing, tilting it gently toward my mouth.
"Don’t strain," she said gently. "Here."
A straw touched my lips. Water. Cool, clean, it felt like liquid gold. I drank too fast, a greedy instinct overwhelming caution, and instantly, my lungs seized.
A tearing, agonizing cough ripped through my chest. It felt like my ribs were shifting, splintering. Red flares of pain exploded behind my eyes, and I tasted salt—or was it the lingering tallic tang of blood from the accident?
"Slowly," Dr. Kassel advised, her hand resting firmly on my forearm. She didn’t look alard, just professional. "Your throat’s irritated." She withdrew the cup, setting it onto the sterile tray table with a soft clink.
I gasped, trying to pull air past the constricted muscles in my throat. The pain subsided quickly, replaced by a dull, throbbing ache that settled over my whole body.
When I finally sank back against the pillows, the air slled faintly of antiseptic and that sweet note. Machines humd softly around . My hand flew to my belly before I even realized I’d moved. Cold fingers t warm skin under the hospital gown. I pressed lightly, terrified, desperate. Please be okay...
"My... my baby..." The words were barely sound — just a tremor that broke apart halfway through.
Dr. Kassel hesitated. Her eyes softened. "You’ve been through a severe trauma, Isabella," she said quietly. "You were in an accident. You’re safe now."
Safe.
The word felt cruel.
"Is... is my baby... okay?"
For a mont, silence filled the room. Kassel’s lips pressed together, her hands tightening on the clipboard she hadn’t even looked at yet. Then she exhaled slowly, lowering her voice.
"The important thing right now is your recovery. You lost so blood, but you’re stable. You’re very lucky, Isabella."
She didn’t answer.
Not really.
"Elise... she was with ." The na was a desperate plea, a whisper of hope and fear intertwined. "Is she...?"
Sothing flickered across her expression — gone as quickly as it ca. "She’s stable," Dr. Kassel said quietly, her tone gentle. "Resting. You don’t need to worry about her right now."
Sothing in her tone made my stomach twist, but I was too weak to question it. I turned my head slightly, staring at the soft light beyond the curtains. Everything felt too quiet, like the whole world was holding its breath.
I didn’t rember how I got here. Who pulled from the wreck? Who called for help? I only rembered the screaming tal, the taste of salt and blood, Elise’s hands and body and body wrapping around last minute, her perfu heavy in the air, Leo’s voice still echoing in my mind— and the way my heart broke long before the car hit.
I tried to focus on breathing. In and out. In and out.
But then the images ca.
The article.
The video.
Clara’s red gown.
Adrien’s eyes when he looked at her.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
Maybe the crash had been rcy. Maybe I was never ant to wake up.
Kassel moved quietly around the room, checking monitors, whispering instructions to soone outside the door. I barely heard her. My gaze drifted to the faint reflection of myself in the glass — pale, bruised, with hair sticking to my temples and lips cracked dry. I didn’t recognize the woman staring back.
This is what betrayal looks like, I thought numbly. Not anger. Just emptiness.
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