In the hospital room, the sterile smell of antiseptic filled the space. Accompanying it was the soft beeping of machines that surrounded Caleb's battered body. Wires and tubes connected him to the machines, each other monitoring his condition.
His chest rose and fell steadily, but his face was bloodless, and his beautiful blue-gray eyes remained close. Even with all the machines, Caleb looked like he was about to shatter any second.
At his bedside, Isabelle was standing and gripping his hand tightly. Her lips trembled as she murmured, "Caleb." Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying.
"Baby, please," she whispered with shaky hands. "Wake up. I can't lose you. I can't live without you. Please, Caleb. How can you do this to me?"
She squeezed his hand harder, praying that he felt her desperation and it would pull him out of a coma. But Caleb didn't stir, and the machines continued beeping, their steady rhythm mocking her.
Mocking their relationship. Their breakup.
She was happy that no one seemed to know about their breakup. She could take care of him, and he would eventually... love her. A crazed expression appeared on her face.
But the extent of this accident was unexpected. Why did this happen? Her brother told her that he didn't plan to kill Caleb. Everything was implemented carefully. He only intended to injure him a bit, a supposed wake-up call for Caleb to realize how much he needed her in his life. But looking at him now, her heart broke.
A lone tear dropped on her face, and she wiped it. She would take this secret to her grave.
She didn't entertain the thought that she had gone too far. Caleb would eventually wake up, and he would see how much she loved him. He would understand later on that she was the one that truly cared.
The door creaked open, and Isabelle turned, her breath catching in her throat. Margaret Reid, Caleb's mother, stepped inside. Her sharp gaze met Isabelle's, and they both refused to back down. Richard was behind his wife, his face set in a grim frown. He was very worried about his son's condition.
Margaret's lips pressed into a thin line as she took in the sight of Isabelle at Caleb's bedside. There was no sympathy in her gaze, only cold, simmering anger.
"I can't believe you're here," Margaret mentioned, her voice low but venomous.
Isabelle straightened as she let go of Caleb's hand. "Where else would I be? I'm his girlfriend. I should be here. If this happens to me, Caleb will do the same."
"That's enough," Margaret snapped, stepping forward. "You've done enough, Isabelle. We don't need you here."
The words hit Isabelle like a slap. She refused to back down, her face red in anger. "You can't keep me away from him!" she hissed. "I love him, and you know that. We love each other."
Margaret didn't waver. "Love? Is that what you call it? You've been nothing but trouble for Caleb since the day you walked into his life. I should have stopped this relationship of yours the moment you met."
Richard placed a hand on Margaret's shoulder, but she shook him off, her gaze never leaving Isabelle. "You're not welcome here. Don't come back. If you don't leave on your own two feet, I'm calling the guards."
Isabelle's eyes flashed with rage, her calm façade cracking under Margaret's threat. She took a step closer to Margaret, her voice rising. "You think you can keep him away from me? You don't control him. I do. Caleb belongs to me!"
Margaret's face morphed into rage, her eyes narrowing. "You're delusional if you think you have any claim over my son!"
"I own him!" Isabelle's voice turned shrill, her mask of grief slipping entirely. She clenched her hands as she glared at Margaret, her breathing quick and erratic. "He needs me. You don't understand—he'll come back to me. He always does."
"Not this time," Margaret said coldly. "Not on my watch and over my dead body."
Isabelle wanted to argue, but before she could speak, the door opened again. This time, it was Bailey. She looked poised and calm as always.
Bailey entered the room quietly, her eyes immediately falling on Caleb. Her heart squeezed painfully at the sight of him in the hospital bed. Why did this have to happen to him? She bit the inside of her mouth to retain her composure.
Bailey straightened her posture as she walked closer to Margaret.
"Madam, sir, good afternoon," Bailey said softly, bowing her head slightly in acknowledgment.
Margaret turned to her, her expression softening just slightly. "Bailey. Thank you for coming."
Bailey nodded, and her eyes flickered toward Isabelle. She was still standing too close to Caleb's bed and was seething in fury. Bailey sensed the tension in the room as soon as she entered.
"Bailey," Margaret called, her voice firm but calm, "please escort Isabelle out. She's no longer welcome here."
Isabelle's head whipped toward Bailey, her eyes blazing. "You can't be serious," she spat, taking a step toward the latter. "You're going to let her kick me out? I have every right to be here!"
Bailey wasn't intimidated. She kept her voice steady as her heart raced like an F1 supercar. "I'm just following the madam's orders, Ms. Laurent."
Isabelle's face contorted with rage. Without warning, she slapped Bailey across the face, the sound echoing in the room. Bailey's head snapped to the side, her cheek burning from the impact, but she didn't react. She didn't even lift a hand to her face.
Margaret gasped in surprise.
"It's okay," Bailey assured her. She locked gazes with Isabelle as she fixed her clothes and hair. Considering the situation, she was too calm as she continued, "You need to leave, Ms. Laurent. A girlfriend isn't an official family member."
"So is an assistant! "Isabelle screamed, grabbing her by the arm. "You think you can take Caleb from me? You think you can replace me?" Her voice was full of venom, her eyes wild.
Long nails dug into Bailey's skin, and blood started to seep. Bailey pried her hands off her.
"Please leave while I'm still being polite," Bailey repeated again, her voice sharp.
Margaret yelled, "Guards!"
Men in black stormed into the hospital room, and they grabbed Isabelle, but she pushed their hands off her.
"I can walk out of this place, but I'll be back." She raised her chin, promising her return. Then she glanced at Caleb, saying, "I love you, baby. I promise I'll come back."
Isabelle stepped out of the room, and Margaret heaved a sigh of relief. She turned to Bailey to ask about Caleb's office, but Bailey asked to be excused.
"Okay, go now," she dismissed her, waving her hand.
Bailey rushed out and looked for Isabelle in the parking lot. Isabelle was talking to someone on her phone when their eyes met.
"Goodbye, I'll talk to you later." Isabelle hung up the call and walked toward Bailey. "Bitch, you're here."
Bailey nodded, stepped forward to meet her, and slapped Isabelle hard on the face. The sound was so loud, it echoed in the almost deserted parking lot.
"Are you crazy?" Isabelle touched her red face, glaring daggers at Bailey. "Do you have a death wish?"
"Ms. Laurent, that slap is for earlier. What you did was uncalled for." Bailey stood her ground. "I didn't want to upset Mr. Reid, who is in a coma. Have you heard of just deserts?"
Isabelle's face down to her neck reddened even more like a ripe tomato. She raised her hand to slap Bailey again, but the latter captured her arm instead.
She glared at Bailey's hand on her. Why is this woman so strong? Isabelle wondered. She couldn't push or pull her hand back.
"Be careful with your actions. I won't be lenient. I let you get away with your insults for a while because you were Mr. Reid's girlfriend," Bailey said.
"Are you saying I'm not anymore?" Isabelle's anger flared up. Did she know we broke up? She wanted to ask so badly.
Bailey's phone rang before she could answer. It was Margaret. Bailey pushed her hand away, and Isabelle stumbled back.
Her gaze still locked on Bailey, she threatened with an icy promise,This isn't over. You'll regret doing this to me."
"I'll be waiting," came the equally icy reply. Then, Bailey turned on her heel to go back inside the hospital.
Isabelle could only watch as the object of her hatred stayed by Caleb's side, but she couldn't.
_________
Margaret let out a long breath when Bailey arrived. "What took you so long?"
"I had a conversation with Ms. Laurent," she replied, standing by Caleb's bedside.
Richard, who had been silent through the whole ordeal, stepped forward, placing a hand on Bailey's shoulder. "You're a good friend to Caleb," he said, his voice low and steady. "We trust you."
Bailey nodded, trying to swallow the lump that formed in her throat. "I just want him to get better."
Margaret smiled sadly, her eyes drifting back to Caleb's still form in the bed. "We all do."
Bailey moved closer to the bed, her eyes sweeping over Caleb's peaceful but injured face. Her heart ached at the sight of him like this. He was so vulnerable, so far from the strong, confident man she knew.
All these years, she was always in the background supporting him and watching him from a distance. And now, here they were, closer than ever but in a way she never prayed for.
She reached out, gently taking Caleb's hand in hers. It was warm, but limp and unresponsive. She squeezed it lightly, her eyes misting over.
"Please open your eyes, Caleb," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "We need you."
I need you.
Lord, please don't take away my light; she prayed in her heart. Not him, I beg you.