ANCHORED

CHAPTER 10

Captain Cobham stood at the doorway, his hand lingering on the doorknob as he hesitated to leave. The room felt suffocating, the sterile scent of the hospital clinging to his senses. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, each one more distressing than the last. "What if she had died?" he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible over the hum of the hospital machinery. "What if no one saw her fall?" The questions gnawed at him, each one a dagger to his heart.

He took a step back, his legs feeling like lead. The fear of losing her before he even had her was unbearable. "f**k, I can't lose her before I have her," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. The thought of a life without Jariel was a void, an emptiness he couldn't fathom. His chest tightened, the pain of the mere possibility almost too much to bear.

His thoughts drifted to the image of her lying on the hospital bed, her face pale and fragile. He wanted nothing more than to rush to her side, to wrap her in his arms and hold her close. The urge to hug her, to feel her warmth and assure himself that she was still there, was overwhelming. He imagined pressing his lips to her forehead, kissing her fright away, whispering words of comfort and love.

The hospital room was cold, its white walls and harsh lighting a stark contrast to the warmth he felt for her. He could see her in his mind's eye, her eyes fluttering open, confusion giving way to relief as she saw him there. He wanted to be her anchor, her safe harbor in the storm. The thought of her facing this alone was unbearable.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He couldn't afford to lose control, not now. Jariel needed him to be strong, to be there for her in every way possible. But the fear lingered, a shadow that refused to be banished. "What if no one saw her fall?" The question hung in the air, a specter of his worst fears.

His mind raced back to the moments when he saw her smile. He remembered her laugh, the way her eyes sparkled when she was happy. He couldn't let those memories be all he had left of her. He needed more time, more moments to create with her, fucck why do I feel this way. The thought of a future without her was a bleak, desolate landscape.

He clenched his fists, the frustration and helplessness boiling over. "I can't lose her," he repeated, as if saying it enough times would make it true. He needed to believe that she would pull through, she spent more than two minutes in the water that's enough time to catch a cold.

As he finally turned to leave, his heart ached with every step. He couldn't shake the image of her lying there, so vulnerable and alone. He would be back, he promised himself. He would be there for her, no matter what.