Five

OLIVIA

“Why isn’t he picking up?” I said angrily, frustration mounting. Kate sighed.

“That’s the first time he’s answered since I tried reaching him. Maybe you should try again?” she replied.

I blinked back tears, the corners of my eyes stinging. “If I haven’t been home for days, you’d think my own husband would care enough to find me.”

The truth was, I wasn’t surprised by Cyril’s indifference. His track record of obliviousness was well-established. But this went beyond just him - the entire company would know I’d been hospitalized. If Cyril couldn’t even maintain the facade of a dutiful husband, it would only fuel the rumors.

“This idiot is going to cost us our deals. Why is this my reality?” I muttered, dialing his number again.

When he answered, his tone was impatient. “What?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’? Did you get my messages, Kate’s voicemails? Do you even know where I am, your own wife?” I responded sharply.

“You’re probably at some work event or holed up reading. What does it matter?” he said dismissively. I heard him talking to someone in the background.

“Well, I’m in the hospital. I’ve been unconscious for days. Did you even notice I was gone?” I pressed, holding back the sarcasm.

“Barely,” he replied, and I had to stifle a gasp. “Look, can we talk about this later? I have something to do.”

I gripped the phone tighter. “Cyril, our entire livelihood depends on this marriage. There are rumors about your... activities. You need to at least respect the business contract, if not our relationship, and come get me.”

He scoffed. “I don’t care what anyone says...”

“I do! And so do our assets. Come to the hospital, Cyril,” I insisted, feeling the familiar ringing in my ears returning.

“No need to be like that,” he muttered, then hung up.

I put the phone down, looking at Kate’s concerned expression. “Is he coming?” she asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll wait. I don’t know how to remind him that keeping a united front is important. If people are already talking about the situation, even if it were true, wouldn’t the sensible thing to do be to try to refute it?”

“Yes… I, um, think,” Kate answered, staring at me in confusion.

“Cyril does the opposite—being in the restaurant with that lady, now this. Why did he come back to New York?” I asked, speaking to no one in particular.

The headache started to worsen. I put my palm to my head and chuckled. “I’m going to get the nurse,” Kate said, running out of the room as the machine beside me started to beep.

I could feel my heart pounding against my chest, threatening to burst any minute now. My palms started to feel sweaty, and beads of perspiration formed on my face. I closed my eyes and tried to steady my breath as I slipped into a seamless sleep.

*****

“How are you feeling, Ms. Penhurst?” a dark-haired lady in blue overalls said as my eyes fluttered open.

I looked at her and glanced in the opposite direction to see Kate asleep on the couch. “I… Who are you?” I asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

“I’m the doctor—Denise McHob,” she said, pointing to the clock. “It’s the night shift, and you’ve probably only seen my colleague, so I understand the confusion,” she finished, and I nodded.

“You’re the only doctor I’ve seen,” I said quietly, glancing at the clock. It was 3 a.m., and we were still in the hospital.

I felt a lot better than I had after the conversation with Cyril, but something was amiss. He should’ve been here by now. “My husband,” I continued. “Did he come? I called him earlier,” I said to her, and she shook her head.

“I’ll check with the nurses to see if he came earlier, but I’ve been here for most of the shift, and no one has dropped by,” she answered, then proceeded to check my vitals and ask how I was feeling.

I told her that I wanted to go home; I didn’t want to spend another night here, and I knew waiting for Cyril was futile. As we spoke, Kate woke up and listened to the conversation, trying to fight away the drowsiness. The doctor left the room, stating that she’d discuss discharging me with the nurses, and I picked up my phone to call the driver.

“It’s 3 a.m., Liv. Let the driver sleep. I sent him home a long time ago; we could get a taxi to take us to the estate,” Kate said as I turned on the phone.

I thought about what she had said and decided to let her get a cab instead. A few minutes later, we were making our way out of the ward when we overheard voices of people rushing someone down the hallway in a wheelchair. We stepped out of the way to let them pass, and as we walked toward the reception area, I felt him before I saw him, and my heart skipped a beat. It was Cyril, standing at the reception table, talking to the nurse on duty in a frantic manner.