Bound To My Husband

Chapter22

ALLISON

I was in my room brushing my teeth, having just woken up. My phone ringtone blasted through the screen, loud and sudden.

Laura staggered toward the bathroom doorway, leaning against the frame. She was still half asleep, her eyes heavy. My phone had clearly disrupted her rest.

"Is it Logan?" I mumbled around my toothbrush, pulling it out of my mouth.

She yawned and shook her head. "No, it's from the hospital." Her voice was flat, completely drained. All the poor girl wanted was to go back to sleep.

I snatched the phone from her hand. She immediately turned her back to me, shuffling away. The hospital hardly ever calls me; they usually go through Logan. For them to call my line directly meant it was serious.

I pressed answer. "Hello?" My breath hitched, a sudden tightness gripping my throat.

"Allison, it's an emergency, come to the hospital." The nurse spoke in a rushed, breathless panic. Before I could even respond, the line went dead.

I spat, rinsed my mouth in a blur, and ran out of the bathroom. Laura noticed the sudden rush and lazily sat up in bed.

"Easy, Allie, so you don't trip over your own feet," she murmured, her voice laced with groggy concern.

I didn't answer. My hands scrambled through my closet, grabbing the first clothes I could touch without caring if anything matched.

"Allie, are you okay?" Her tone sharpened, genuine worry finally breaking through her sleepiness.

I took a deep breath, trying to force the rising panic down. "I have a bad feeling. Something is wrong."

Minutes later, she followed me into the bathroom. The urgency had fully woken her up, and she was pacing, catching my anxiety.

"Don't worry, everything will be fine," she insisted, trying to anchor me. "Your father is a strong man, he will overcome this."

Her words calmed my racing mind just enough to function. I threw on my clothes, my hands trembling as I pulled the fabric over my skin.

"Should I come with you? I don't think you can drive in this state."

"I can manage," I told her, grabbing my jacket and heading straight for the door.

She followed me all the way out to the car, completely barefoot and still in her nightgown. She kept shouting words of encouragement over the gravel until I slammed the door. I drove off at full speed, my chest tight.

I even got pulled over by a cop for speeding, but I managed to get away and reach the hospital in time.

When I hurried into the corridor of my dad's ward, I saw Logan. He was sitting on a plastic chair, staring blankly at the wall as if the paint texture was the most important thing in the world.

My heart dropped into my stomach, a strange feeling settled in my guts and it refused to go away. As I approached, a couple of orderlies wheeled a hospital bed out of the room, moving with a cold, routine efficiency, like they were transporting freight.

Someone lay on the mattress, covered by a white sheet from head to toe. Even without seeing his face, a cold certainty hit me. That was my father.

My chest shattered.

I broke into a run, pushing past the staff and ripping the sheet back. His face was entirely cold. Yet, he looked peaceful, as if he were just taking a deep nap and might open his eyes any second.

"No, no, no... he is still alive!" I yelled at the nurse, trying to shove my hands away from the gurney. "Please listen to me, look at him! Can't you see? Have you all gone blind?" Panic turned into raw aggression.

Suddenly, a pair of arms wrapped firmly around my waist, restricting my movements and pulling me back from the bed. I knew it was Logan because his familiar scent was always quick to fill my nose

The reality of the loss crashed down on me, i couldn't hold it in anymore. I wept bitterly.

"Allie," Logan murmured softly. He turned me around to face him. His deep blue eyes, which usually made me feel safe and secure, were completely bloodshot and watery. He looked like he had only just managed to stop his own crying.

"Don't try to stop me from crying, don't tell me it's okay because it's not!" I blurted out. The tears choked my throat, and my chest tightened so hard it felt like the air was being cut off.

"I wasn't going to say that." His voice remained smooth, calm like a quiet sea. He gently brushed a few stray locks of hair, soaked with tears, away from my cheeks. "If crying makes you feel better, then don't hold back."

I buried my face in his chest and hugged him with everything I had. Right now, he was the only real family I had left. It wasn't that my father didn't have relatives, but I barely knew them. I had only met my uncle once, when I was eight, during my grandparents' funeral.

I sobbed against his shirt while he gently stroked my hair. The entire situation felt fake, like a nightmare I was being forced to experience against my will. I needed something violent to shock me back into reality, to prove this was actually happening.

I lifted my head to look at him. We exchanged a long, heavy silence before I finally spoke. "I want to jump off a bridge. That's the only way this can feel real to me."

I expected him to argue or call me crazy, but instead, he just gave a slow, understanding nod.

"Fine. I will look for one." Without demanding any explanations, he took my hand and led me out of the hospital.

Outside, a light drizzle had started, just small drops that barely wet my clothes.

We got into the car and he turned the key. The engine roared to life. He kept his eyes glued strictly to the windshield, driving with absolute focus.

I had no idea where we were going, but I knew he was dead serious about finding a bridge for me.

As he drove, he reached across the center console with his right hand, keeping his left on the wheel. He squeezed my hand, caressing my knuckles to anchor me.

After a while, the car slowed to a halt. He turned his head toward me, a small, sad smile on his lips while I stared back in confusion. "We are here."

The rain had turned into a heavy downpour now but despite the storm, he stepped out into the deluge, walked around the car, and opened my door.

With his assistance, I stepped down into the downpour and we walked together right up to the concrete edge of the bridge. The road was completely deserted; no cars, no pedestrians, just the two of us.

I turned to face him, wiping the wet, soaked hair away from my eyes. "I can't swim."

"Same here, but I got you, Allie," he replied, sliding his jacket off his shoulders and letting it drop.

I watched him, half-hoping he would snap me out of this madness. But his expression was completely serene, as if helping me leap off a ledge was just a normal task for a Tuesday afternoon.

He lifted me up, helping me balance right on the narrow edge. Standing straight, I looked down at him. Fresh tears mixed with the rainwater streaming down my face. His gaze locked onto mine as he bent down to take off his shoes.

A breathless, tragic laugh almost escaped my throat. He looked ready to plunge right in after me, even though it was an impossible scenario; if we both went under, neither of us could save the other.

I closed my eyes, let the cold wind catch my clothes, and stepped off into the open air, dropping toward the water with a heavy rush.