Chapter 12
822 Words
Ella sat on the hospital bed, staring out the window.
It had been three days since the kidnapping.
Three days since she’d almost lost everything.
And she still couldn’t breathe.
The doctors said she and the babies were fine — miraculously healthy, given the circumstances.
But her body trembled constantly.
Her mind couldn’t let go of the cold, the darkness, the men’s cruel eyes, their hands—
Her breath hitched, and she gripped the edge of the bed until her knuckles turned white.
"Nathan," she whispered.
But she didn’t call out loud.
She didn’t want him to see her like this.
Broken.
Useless.
---
Nathan was pacing just outside the room, trying not to scream.
The security team had tripled.
The hospital was under surveillance.
No one entered Ella’s floor without his permission.
But none of it mattered if she still couldn’t sleep.
If she still flinched when he reached for her.
If she couldn’t even look him in the eye.
He didn’t blame her.
He blamed himself.
He had left her alone.
And it nearly destroyed her.
---
That night, Ella jerked awake with a scream.
Nathan was there in seconds, rushing to her side.
Her eyes were wide, pupils dilated, sweat dripping down her brow.
“They were here,” she gasped. “They were here again. I saw them. I felt them—!”
“No, no, Ella—” Nathan grabbed her trembling hands, pulling her into his arms. “It was just a dream. You’re safe. I swear, you’re safe now.”
She clung to him for a moment… then pulled away, shoving him back.
“No, I’m not!” she cried, her voice raw. “I’m not safe, Nathan! I’ll never be safe again. You don’t get it!”
Nathan stared at her, stunned. “Ella—”
“You think just because you beat them and put guards outside that it’s over?!” Her voice cracked. “I’m still broken in here!” She pressed a hand to her chest, sobbing. “I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can’t even shower without seeing them every time I close my eyes.”
She backed away toward the window, shaking.
“And you…” Her voice dropped. “You still look at me like I’m whole. Like I’m still the woman you made love to that night. But I’m not. I’m not that girl anymore.”
Nathan swallowed hard.
“You think I care about that?” he asked softly. “You think any part of me is going to walk away because you’re hurting?”
Tears welled in her eyes again.
“You should,” she whispered. “You deserve better. Someone strong. Someone who doesn’t flinch every time you touch her. Someone who doesn’t cry herself to sleep.”
Nathan crossed the room slowly and dropped to his knees in front of her.
His voice was steady, but his eyes burned.
“I don’t want someone stronger. I want you. The real you. The scared you. The angry you. The you that still managed to protect our babies through the worst nightmare imaginable. That’s the strongest woman I’ve ever met.”
Ella sobbed, her hands trembling.
“I’m scared, Nathan. I’m scared all the time.”
“I know.” He gently took her hand and kissed it. “But you don’t have to go through it alone. I won’t let you.”
She finally sank to the floor with him, burying her face in his chest as he wrapped her in his arms.
He held her for a long time.
Let her shake.
Let her cry.
Until finally, she whispered, “I don’t know how to move forward.”
Nathan tilted her chin up gently. “We’ll do it together. Step by step. And when you fall, I’ll catch you every time.”
Ella closed her eyes, breathing in his scent, her forehead resting against his.
“I don’t deserve you,” she said softly.
“You deserve everything,” he whispered back. “And I’m going to prove it.”
---
Later that night, Nathan curled beside her in the hospital bed, his hand resting protectively on her belly.
Ella’s eyes fluttered open in the dark.
“Are you still awake?”
“Always,” he said quietly.
She turned to him, searching his eyes. “You meant it… when you said you still wanted me?”
Nathan’s brow furrowed. “Of course I did.”
“Even like this?”
Nathan sat up and cupped her face in his hands.
“Ella,” he said slowly. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. Not because of how you look or what you’ve been through. Because of who you are.”
She stared at him for a long moment.
Then leaned forward.
Their lips met — soft, slow, trembling.
It wasn’t passion or lust.
It was trust.
And the beginning of healing.
- Writer
