Page 239 of From Rivals to I Do

ma’am, he's been taken to the Intensive Care Unit, but only family members are allowed in there."

A surge of desperation courses through me when I hear the ‘Intensive Care Unit' threatening to consume my fragile composure. How bad exactly was the accident? "I am his wife," I say, my voice catching in my throat. "Please, I need to see him."

The nurse's expression softens, but there's a hint of concern in her eyes. She nods and gestures for me to follow her. Maria waits for me at the reception.

The nurse and I walk down the sterile corridors, the sound of our footsteps echoing in the silence. We enter a room where I change into clothes suitable

for the ICU to avoid contamination. Each passing moment feels like an eternity as we make our way to the Intensive Care Unit.

Finally, we arrive at the heavy double doors, guarded by a stoic nurse. She looks at me, her gaze searching, as if weighing the authenticity of my claim a

s his family. With a sigh, she grants us access, and the doors swing open with a creak.

The sterile scent of disinfectant fills the air, blending with the hushed whispers and the sound of machinery. My footsteps falter as we approach Room

305, my hand trembling as I reach for the doorknob. I push the door open slowly, my eyes bracing themselves for the sight that awaits me.

As we step into the room, there are two doctors in there around Jackson's bed. And there he is, lying motionless on the hospital bed, his face and body

covered in casts and bandages. A wave of disbelief washes over me as I peer at the person on the bed. I gasp, a sob escaping my lips as tears stream

down my face. It's as if the world stands still, the enormity of the moment weighing heavily upon me.

His face is unrecognizable, marred by the cruel flames that have ravaged his once-vibrant features. The beeping machines and the low hum of medical

devices surround him, a symphony of hope and uncertainty.

"Mrs. Reed?" One of the doctors asks, looking intently at me as if to confirm that I'm Jackson's wife. I nod at him, unable to utter any words. "I'm afraid

your husband has suffered severe burns. When he went to put out the fire, he inadvertently ignited a fuel leak, causing an explosion. He is in a critical

condition and has been unconscious since he was brought in, but thankfully his vitals seem to be much better than earlier. His skin is badly burned, but it's a miracle he is alive. "

Every word he speaks pierces my heart like a thousand needles. I struggle to comprehend the magnitude of the tragedy that has befallen us. "Will he be, okay?" I manage to ask, my voice barely audible.

The doctor's eyes fill with sorrow, his voice gentle yet tinged with realism. "It will be a long road to recovery. We're doing everything we can, but it will take time."

A lump forms in my throat, and I can feel the weight of uncertainty pressing down upon me.

The doctors leave me alone with the man I love, telling me I have only a limited amount of time to stay there.

Tears stream down my face, the weight of guilt and anguish crushing my spirit as I approach the bed, my trembling fingers grazing the edges of the bed. "Jackson," I whisper, my voice choked with emotion. "I'm here, my love. Will you ever forgive me for leaving you? You and Henry did not deserve that. I left you. I will never leave your side again. I promise."

A deep moaning escapes from me as those words leave my mouth. I'm so overcome by emotion that the crying comes from deep down inside of my soul.

There's no response, no flicker of acknowledgment. Jackson remains still, his eyes closed, lost in a world beyond reach. Yet, in this moment, as I pour my heart out to him, I feel a glimmer of connection, a tether of love that transcends the bounds of consciousness.

Hours pass, or so it seems to me, and time blurs into an indistinguishable haze of pain and longing. The door creaks open as one of the doctors returns,

signaling that my time in this room is up. I feel like I'm being suffocated in this moment and my sobs get louder as I leave the room, all the while looking

back at Jackson, hoping for movement or at least a sign that he is conscious.

I find Maria waiting at the reception half asleep. She lurches as she sees me coming and pulls me into a hug without saying any words. Finally, she breaks the heavy silence, her tone laced with concern. "What about the art festival tomorrow? Will you be able to attend?"

I shake my head, tears streaming down my face as I contemplate the unbearable choice before me. "No, I can't leave him like this. My place is here, by

Jackson's side. The festival will have to proceed without me."

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