Richard's POV Eight months. Eight long, torturous months since I last saw Ava. My mind barely registered the passing days anymore, each one bleeding into the next as the hope of finding her slowly slipped through my fingers. Yet here we were, on the way to a dilapidated car house, following a lead that might finally bring an end to this nightmare. The private detective we hired had finally come through, trailing Han’s every move. It turned out she had been visiting this particular place frequently, always cautious, always looking over her shoulder as if she knew someone might be watching. I felt like a fool for not thinking of it sooner, for not piecing together the clues that were now so glaringly obvious. How many times had I gone over every possible scenario in my head, only to overlook this crucial detail? The car bounced along the uneven road, the worn tires struggling against the gravel. Ava's father, a stoic man whose presence had become a strange comfort du
Ava's POV I heard the chaos outside long before I saw it—shouting, the crack of gunfire, the unmistakable sounds of a battle raging just beyond these walls. My heart pounded in my chest, the rapid thumping almost drowning out the noises. For a moment, I was frozen, unable to move, every muscle tensed with fear. But then I saw it. The door to my dark prison was ajar, left open by someone in their haste to join the fight. This was my chance. I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of my unborn child pressing against my lungs. The pregnancy was making every movement a struggle, but I couldn’t afford to hesitate. I had to move. I had to get out of here. Carefully, I slid out of the small cot I’d been confined to, my legs shaking as I stood. The building was vast, and the hallways stretched endlessly in both directions, dimly lit and ominous. I didn’t know which way led to freedom, but staying here meant certain death. I had to try. I clutched my belly with one hand, the o
Richard's Pov It's been a week. Seven endless days since Ava slipped into a coma, and every single day, the world felt like it was unraveling. I could barely recognize her now—she looked so thin, so fragile, lying there with tubes and wires keeping her tethered to life. The doctor had said something about her needing to go into some kind of induced coma, but the words barely registered. All I could think about was her, lying there, unmoving, while I was expected to sit and watch.I ran a hand through my hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. It was a mess, just like everything else. My clothes were wrinkled, and I hadn’t bothered to shave in days. What did it matter? Nothing mattered if Ava didn’t wake up. The door to the hospital room opened, and the doctor walked in, his face a blend of concern and professionalism. He approached Ava’s bed, checking her monitors and gently placing a hand on her swollen belly. I watched him, every second feeling like an eterni
I held my newborn son close, feeling the weight of him in my arms. The doctors had congratulated me, saying both Ava and the baby had made it through the emergency C-section, but Ava was still in a coma. I looked down at him—he had her curly hair, her high cheekbones. The resemblance was so strong that it tugged at something deep inside me. His tiny hand reached up, his fingers curling around mine as he tried to bring them to his mouth. “Hey, little man,” I murmured, my voice barely a whisper. He squirmed, his small body wiggling in my grasp. There was a life in him, a spark that reminded me so much of Ava. As I stood there, lost in the moment, I heard the sound of small footsteps approaching. I turned just in time to see Tommy rush into the room, his face lit with curiosity and excitement. Behind him were his grandparents, giving me a nod as they let Tommy run ahead. “Papa!” Tommy’s voice was full of energy as he reached me. His eyes were wide as he looked at the baby
Richard's Pov I stood by the changing table, my hands steady as I carefully fastened the clean diaper on Anthony. His little legs kicked playfully in the air, and I couldn't help but smile as he cooed up at me, his tiny fingers grasping at the air. The scent of baby powder filled the room, mingling with the faint smell of fresh linens. As I finished securing the diaper, I heard Tommy's small voice pipe up from behind me. "Papa, all babies stink!" Tommy declared with the straightforward honesty only a five-year-old could muster. I chuckled, shaking my head. "You were the same when you were this little," I replied, turning to look at him. "And we still loved you all the same." Tommy giggled, his laughter filling the room with a warmth that made my heart swell. "I wasn't stinky like him!" he protested, though the mischievous twinkle in his eyes betrayed him. "You were," I insisted, reaching out to ruffle his hair. "And you did the same thing, kicking your legs and trying t
I must have been asleep for a while. The ringing of my phone pulled me out of the deep sleep, and as I stirred, I felt the weight of the night before pressing down on me. My head pounded, and everything around me felt too bright, too harsh. I blinked against the light filtering in from the windows—it wasn’t even fully bright outside, just a dull grayness that matched how I felt inside. The sound of the phone persisted, relentless. I groaned, reaching around blindly, trying to find the damn thing. It wasn’t on the coffee table where I usually left it. My hands swept over the cushions, and finally, after a few frustrating moments, I found it wedged under the couch. I grabbed it, squinting at the screen. The doctor’s name flashed across it, and my heart skipped a beat. “Hello?” My voice was rough, strained, like I hadn’t used it in years. “She’s awake, sir. She’s awake.” The words hit me like a freight train. Ava’s awake? What? I almost dropped the phone, my hands trembling. The
Richard’s POV As I stepped into the room, I called out softly, “Ava.” My voice trembled with both hope and fear as I moved closer to her. She was sitting up in bed, her eyes open, but when she looked at me, there was nothing in her expression. No recognition, no warmth—just a blank stare. I stopped a few feet away from her, uncertain of what to do. “Ava,” I repeated, but there was no response. Her eyes remained fixed on me, empty. Confused and a bit panicked, I turned to the doctor, silently asking for an explanation. The doctor stepped forward, his expression calm as he addressed Ava directly. “Ava, do you remember your name?” he asked gently. “Yes,” she replied, her voice steady. “My name is Ava.” The doctor nodded. “Good. Now, can you tell me who this man is?” He pointed to me. Ava looked back at me, her eyes searching my face. After a moment, she shook her head. “I don’t know who he is. Why is he standing here?” The doctor turned to me and said quietly, “Mr. Richar
Ava's Pov The room was shrouded in darkness, the only sound being the faint hum of the machines beside the bed. She stirred, the dull ache in her body a reminder of where she was. Her eyes flickered open, adjusting to the dim light. The first thing she noticed was the heavy weight on her chest—memories flooding back, confusion gnawing at her mind. But she pushed them aside, focusing instead on the figure slumped in the chair by her bed. His head was tilted awkwardly, dark circles under his eyes as if sleep had been a distant memory. She stared at him for a long time, emotions warring within her. Anger, hurt, and… something else. Something softer. She had wanted to make him suffer, to make him feel the same pain she felt when she woke up alone, but all that seemed so distant now. Her gaze softened as she looked at him, and she wondered how long he had been sitting there like that, waiting, watching. She tried to move, but the IV lines tugged at her skin, pulling her back