Chapter 310: dreams
I thought I’d go back there. To that happy place but this time,
there was nothing.
No pain. No sound. No warmth. Just... void.
An endless, empty nothing that pressed in from all sides. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t feel. It was as if I’d already gone.
And then...
The nothingness cracked.
I was back there. That night. The one I’d buried so deep I thought I’d never crawl back to it. My skin reeked of vodka, my mouth tasted bitter, and my heart...God, my heart was reckless that night. I had been desperate, foolish enough to finally try and tell him. Tell Kael.
But instead of courage, I was met with the sight that ruined me.
Him. Kissing her.
The faceless girl.
And this time, instead of choking on my silence, I went to him. My feet carried me across the floor, shaking with anger, with despair. My voice should have been loud, trembling, furious. But when Kael looked at me, he didn’t see me.
His eyes were cold, unbothered.
Like I was a pest. A shadow. A nuisance he couldn’t be bothered with. His warmth was reserved for the faceless woman beside him, the one with his child growing in her belly. She was glowing, smiling, carrying the very thing I could never give him.
And he was happy with her.
Happy.
I tried to scream. To claw the words out of my throat. What about me? What about us? But my mouth opened and nothing came. Not even a whisper. Only the voices filled the air instead...thousands of them, sharp, overlapping, poisonous.
Coward. You ran. You hid. You ruined everything.
You lost him.
This is your fault.
The voices chased me as the walls collapsed, and suddenly I was back in my apartment, slumped on the couch with an empty glass of vodka in my hand. The silence was suffocating. Olivia was gone, her kids gone, the world gone.
And then I saw him.
My father.
Standing at the end of the corridor, dressed in the same clothes he wore the day he died. My breath caught, my heart stuttered, but I moved toward him anyway.
"You’re supposed to be dead," I whispered, my voice breaking.
He smiled at me. A horrible smile. "Yes. Isn’t this what you wanted, Aria? Are you finally satisfied now? I’m gone. Just like you hoped."
"No," I sobbed, shaking my head, stumbling toward him. "No, I never... I didn’t...please, I’m sorry..."
The gunfire cut me off.
Sharp cracks splitting the silence as his body jerked and twisted, holes tearing through him, blood spilling out in rivers at his feet. I screamed, my knees buckling as he fell. His blood spread toward me, hot and sticky, staining my hands when I reached for him.
"I’m sorry," I whispered again and again, my voice cracking, breaking. "I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry..."
The blood rose higher. My lungs seized. And as I fought for air, whispering apologies that weren’t enough, the dream snapped apart.
I woke...or half woke...sobbing, my throat raw, my chest heaving.
"I’m sorry," I muttered, my words spilling broken as tears soaked my cheeks. My body jerked, lungs burning, vision hazy as muffled voices surrounded me again.
"...pressure stabilizing..."
"...blood loss still critical..."
"...keep her awake, don’t let her slip..."
Hands touched me, cold, urgent, but I couldn’t hold on. The panic, the sound, the light...it all swirled until it collapsed again into black.
....
When I woke again, it wasn’t into dreams.
It was into weight.
My body felt like stone, pinned down by something I couldn’t see. Even lifting a hand was exhausting, my arm trembling halfway before it flopped uselessly back onto the bed. My mouth was so dry it burned, my tongue like sandpaper scraping against my teeth. My head pounded dully, like someone had stuffed it with cotton and then pressed down until everything pulsed.
And I was so cold. Shivering even though heavy blankets were draped over me, tucked tight around my shoulders.
The air smelled sharp...disinfectant, antiseptic, sterile and bitter. Beeping filled the silence, steady and slow, the rhythm of machines keeping track of the life I wasn’t sure I still wanted. A needle tugged at my arm when I shifted, IV tubing coiling over the blanket.
I blinked through the dizziness until I saw her.
Ash.
Sitting beside me, her leg bouncing, her face pale and tight. She was staring at her tablet but tapping so furiously at the screen it was obvious she wasn’t really seeing it. When I shifted again, trying to sit up, the movement was small but enough for her to notice. Her head snapped up instantly.
"Aria." Her voice cracked. She pushed the tablet aside and leaned forward, hands half-reaching for me before she seemed to remember herself. "Don’t move...just stay down, okay? I’ll get someone."
"Where..." My throat rasped like I’d swallowed glass. "...where am I?"
Her hands fluttered helplessly before she pressed the call button by the bed. "You’re safe. You’re in the hospital."
Hospital.
The word sank in sluggishly, through fog, through the pounding in my skull.
"What...happened?" My voice was barely there.
"Don’t strain yourself," Ash murmured, as if soothing a child. "The doctors are coming. Just...just don’t move."
The room filled fast...white coats, gloved hands, clipped voices. Flashlights shone into my eyes, fingers pressed against my wrist, cold instruments against my chest, questions I could barely answer. Any pain? Do you feel dizzy? Can you hear me clearly?
It blurred together until they were gone, leaving only the beeps, the IV drip, and Ash sitting frozen again in her chair.
I turned my head, every muscle aching. "Ash." My voice was hoarse but sharp enough to make her flinch. "Tell me. What happened to me?"
Her gaze dropped instantly, her jaw tightening. She fiddled with her sleeve like she was searching for words. "You need to rest first."
"No." My chest tightened, my hands weakly clenching the blanket. "Don’t...don’t do that. Don’t lie to me."
"I’m not lying, Aria, I just..."
"Please." My voice broke. My eyes stung. "Please, Ash. Tell me the truth."
Silence stretched. Her foot stopped tapping.
And then she looked at me, and the way her face crumpled was answer enough.
"You..." Her voice faltered. She swallowed, trying again. "You had a miscarriage."
The words slammed into me harder than any pain in my body.
A hollow sound escaped me, something between a gasp and a sob. My whole chest caved, the ache so much sharper than the cramps, than the blood, than the void I’d been floating in. It hurt everywhere, in places no doctor could reach, no IV could fix.
I stared at the ceiling because I couldn’t bear to look at her, couldn’t bear to see the pity in her eyes. My throat worked, but no words came. Only that sound, that low keening that barely reached past my lips.
And for the first time, I almost wished I hadn’t woken at all.