Love is complicated. It is the feeling of being attracted, attached, and desirous. It binds two souls together, and at the same time, it allows them to be free.

Everyone yearns for love. I am not exceptional either.

I loved someone dearly. But I never knew loving him would be detrimental to me. I got my punishment for loving him. Now I am lying in a pool of blood, waiting for death to consume me.

My body hurts. My head hurts even more. I am under the impression that my bones have broken.

I don't feel my legs and hands. But I can smell the metallic stench of the blood.

Some people are talking.

Why do they sound so funny? They appear to be speaking underwater. They are taking me somewhere else.

Where?

This siren of an ambulance…

They are taking me to the hospital.

Mm… My head hurts. I can't see clearly. I am losing my consciousness.

Mm… I want to see him. Although he has hurt me, I yearn to see him. I am upset with him, but I don't despise him.

I don't know if I'll ever wake up. I want to see him one last time.

"Call my husband…" I mutter, but I can't hear myself. "Please…"

...............….

............

..........

"The patient is convulsing," a paramedic staff yelled.

The woman on the stretcher was shaking vigorously.

Another staff injected something into her veins. The patient stopped moving after a while and fell into a deep sleep.

Wiu-Wiu-Wiu…

The ambulance rushed to the hospital.

Several hours later…

A young man in his late twenties sat in a doctor's chamber, his face grim. His blue eyes were watery. His fists on his thighs trembled as he struggled to keep his emotions in check.

"Mr. Wilson, I am sorry to say that we can't save the child." The doctor lamented.

"Child?" Declan Wilson raised his eyebrows in shock.

"She was eight weeks pregnant."

"She… P-Pregnant!"

"Yes." The doctor frowned, wondering why Declan was not aware of the pregnancy.

Declan stuffed his fist into his mouth, his lower jaw quivering. He tried hard to keep his tears at bay. It took him a few moments to collect his thoughts.

"When will she wake up?" he asked, his voice faltering.

"I cannot tell when she will come out of the coma. She may wake up in a few days or in a few months."

Declan sniffed, rubbing his forehead. "Can I see her?"

"Yes."

"Thank you." He rose to his feet and walked out of the chamber.

A police officer approached him. "Mr. Wilson, I am sorry about your wife."

"I don't need your sorry," Declan snarled, clenching his teeth. "I want a result."

"It seems like a hit and run case. We will catch the driver soon."

Declan had no mood to continue the conversation. He turned around and went to the ICU.

When he came to the intensive care unit, a nurse gave him an isolation gown, a mask, gloves, and shoe covers. It didn't take him long to put them on. After sanitizing his hands, he entered the ICU.

Declan's heart sank to the pit of his stomach when he saw his wife lying motionless on the sickbed.

White gauze wrapped around her head. The oxygen pipe was into her mouth. Several wires from various complicated machines were attached to her body.

He couldn't hold back his tears. He sat on the stool beside the bed, looking at her in a daze. The guilt gripped his heart.

"Sorry, sweetheart… I am so sorry," he muttered. "Please wake up. I promise to fix everything." He took her hand in his.

As he watched her, bitter-sweet memories flashed through his mind. He was sorry for his actions. He wished he could turn back the clock and change the events of the past.

"Will you ever be able to forgive me?"