“Do you love her?” Danica asked. The question hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.
“No,” Nathan answered instantly. No hesitation. No remorse. “I only love you.”
Then, the sound of wet, sloppy kissing filled the silence.
I didn’t scream. I didn’t storm in there and tear the IVs from my arm to strangle them. I felt a strange, icy calm settle over me. It was the death of hope. The death of the woman who had forgiven him ninety-nine times.
The Karylle who loved Nathan died in that hospital bed along with her unborn child.
I waited until the sounds of their affection faded, until the door handle turned.
Nathan walked in. He adjusted his expression instantly, shifting from the callous lover I had just heard to the grieving, concerned husband.
“Karylle,” he breathed out, rushing to my side. He reached for my hand, his palms sweating. “Oh, God. You’re awake. I was so worried.”
He squeezed my fingers, his eyes glistening with unshed, fake tears. “I’m so sorry, honey. The doctor… he told me about the baby. I can’t believe he’s gone.”
I looked at him. Really looked at him. For the first time, I didn’t see the man I loved. I saw a monster in a designer suit.
I pulled my hand away as if his skin were acid.
Nathan blinked, hurt flashing across his face. “Karylle? I know you’re in pain, but I’m here. We’ll get through this.”
Then, I saw her. Danica was hovering in the doorway, clutching her arm in a cast, looking small and fragile. She was biting her lip, playing the part of the victim perfectly.
“What is she doing here?” I asked. My voice was a shard of glass—sharp and dangerous.
Nathan stiffened. He glanced back at her, then turned to me with a sigh. “She wanted to see you, Karylle. She’s been a wreck since the accident.”
Danica stepped forward, tears already spilling down her cheeks. “Karylle… I… I don’t know what to say. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. Please, you have to believe me. I just didn’t want you driving because you are my boss—”
She reached out as if to touch the foot of my bed.
“Don’t come near me,” I said, my voice low.
“Karylle, please,” Danica sobbed, her shoulders shaking. “I’m hurting too. I feel so guilty.”
“You should,” I spat. “You were drunk. You insisted on driving. You killed my son. You should have died instead of him!”
“That’s enough!” Nathan snapped.