Chapter 011

As soon as the plane touched down, Camila was the first one out of her seat, practically sprinting through the terminal.

She grabbed a taxi, her voice tight with urgency. "Médica Sur, por favor. Rápido."

The taxi driver, sensing her distress, nodded and sped off, weaving through the city's chaotic traffic. The journey was a blur of honking horns, crowded streets, and towering buildings. Camila pulled out her phone, dialing Rachel's number, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Rachel..." Camila's voice trembled, strained with a 20-hour flight's worth of fear. "How is he? Is he stable now?"

"Camila," Rachel's voice was low, heavy. "He... he hasn't regained consciousness. They're still running tests, but... it's not good."

Camila's breath hitched. "What? What do you mean, 'not good'?"

"His breathing is... erratic. They're doing everything they can." Rachel said.. "Please, just get here."

"So you mean he has been unconscious for more than twenty hours? Didn't he receive medical attention on time?" Camila demanded, her voice rising. "Twenty hours! What kind of hospital is this? Why isn't he stable yet?"

"Camila, please, you're not helping," Rachel pleaded. "They're doing everything they can. They got him here as soon as he collapsed. It's just—"

Camila snapped. "Get a specialist! Get someone who knows what they're doing!"

"We're trying, Camila," Rachel said, her voice strained. "But you need to get here. He needs you."

"I'm coming, tell me where he is."

"ICU, room 302," Rachel replied. "Hurry.

The taxi screeched to a halt in front of the hospital's entrance. Camila didn't wait for the change, throwing bills at the driver and slamming the door. She rushed through the automatic doors, her eyes scanning the lobby for the ICU signs, and there it was: the "ICU" arrow.

She followed the signs, her footsteps echoing in the sterile hallway. Each step felt like an eternity. She reached the ICU doors, her heart pounding in her chest. She pushed them open, her eyes searching for room 302.

She spotted the elevator bank to her right and slid in. But just as the doors were about to close, a man’s voice called out, "Hold the doors!"

Camila froze. That voice. She knew that voice.

The man who had called earlier rushed into the elevator, and then, his face came into view. That’s when it dawned on her.

Camila body stiffen, completely numb as she stared at the familiar face like she had seen a ghost.

Lawson.

The man she had loved but now hated. The scenario she was trying to avoid was now staring back at her like a mocking reality.

Before she could even process her thoughts, another voice, sharp and urgent, cut through the silence. "Lawson! Wait! How could you just walk out on me like that?"

Diane rushed towards the closing elevator doors and slid through the narrowing gap. Just as the doors were about to meet, Lawson held the doors open, a flicker of indecision in his eyes. He seemed momentarily caught between the desire to step out and confront Diane and the urge to retreat. But as Diane took another step forward, Lawson's expression hardened.

Without a word, he slid back into the elevator, his movement swift.

"Law—" The doors slammed shut, leaving Diane standing alone in shock and disbelief.

Inside the elevator, the air crackled with unspoken tension. Camila remained motionless behind Lawson; her brother's situation was now like a fog in her mind.

The sight of him, so unexpected, had shattered the fragile composure she'd clung to during the frantic flight.

She wasn't just seeing Lawson; she was reliving every moment of their shared past, every promise broken, every tear shed.

Suddenly, Lawson let out a sigh and turned around, rubbing his temples.

"I'm sorry about the... scene earlier..." he said, and Camila couldn't help but chuckle in disbelief.

When did he become so nice? That apology was irritating, unnecessary. She didn't need it.

She looked away, ignoring him with her jaw clenched.

Why now, of all times, did Lawson have to appear? She wished the ground could open up and swallow him, not her, because standing in his presence made her feel sick and disgusted.

Now the lift was becoming a suffocating metal box. And worst of all, Camila could feel Lawson's eyes on her, a persistent, unwanted pressure. It was as if he were trying to pierce through the wall she'd erected to see the raw, exposed nerves beneath.

She gripped the handrail. She wanted to scream at him, to demand that he disappear, to evaporate into the thin air from which he'd materialized. But the words remained trapped.

How could she say that to him? She was a unrecognizable, no longer wife Camila anymore.

Seconds ticked by, and Lawson occasionally glanced back at her. Now Camila could no longer take it.

"Would you just stop staring!" she snapped keeping her voice calm as ever despite the storming ragging in her.

Lawson's brow furrowed. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me; look away." She shot back, willing the door to open right now, because she knew she sounded pathetic, but she couldn't help it; she couldn't control her emotions anymore.

Lawson's brow furrowed further, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but the door opened, interrupting him.

Finally.

Camila took advantage of the distraction to step out of the elevator. She could feel Lawson's gaze on her back, but she didn't even look back. She needed to escape, to breathe, to find some semblance of control and focus on what's more important: reaching her brother's bedside.

So she pushed back the thoughts about him and focused on the room beckoning her ahead.

She slipped into room it like she aas being chased. by her own demons.

The beeping of machines hit her like a slap in the face, jolting her back to reality. Her brother, Cole lay motionless in the bed.

Camila's heart sank, and her eyes welled up with tears as she rushed to his side.