After the Divorce, He Begged Me Back

I was today years old when I understood how quickly one can go from being completely fine to having your life flash before your eyes. It happened in an instant. The next thing I knew, I was being pulled from the wreckage of my car and placed on a stretcher. "Miss, can you hear me? We're taking you to the hospital now. Can you tell me your name?" My thoughts tangled in a haze. The metallic scent of blood filled my nose, nausea swirled in my stomach, but my body felt too heavy to move. "She's going to have a concussion." "Ma'am, do you have anyone to call? An emergency contact?" One of the medics spoke when I was finally wheeled into the hospital. The bright lights above me blurred, and the frantic voices of the medical staff echoed louder. With air forcing its way into my nose from the oxygen mask suspended on my face, I forced myself to nod. I do have an emergency contact. My husband. He should be on his way. "Perfect. I'll have someone take you to the ward." I was wheeled into a room. Two nurses took my blood, then injected me. Between several questions and examinations, I could finally see singular images clearly, and my heart palpitations had reduced. "Ma'am, who is your emergency contact?" "Adrian. My husband." My voice came out hoarse. My phone was brought over and unlocked. Among the contacts, his name stood out—decorated with heart emojis and sparkles. The nurse found it immediately and handed the number to the head nurse, who left the room. I closed my eyes, recalling the moment before the accident—the sudden jolt, the screeching tires, and the impact. Who drives like that? What if I lost my life? The collision made my ribs hurt, my head hurt the most, but upon collision I was certain something pierced through my skin and I might have broken a bone. The nurses wouldn’t do much without the permission of a relative, that was the protocol. Where’s Adrian? I am in so much pain! Minutes later, the lead nurse returned, worry etched on her face. “Your husband keeps sending calls to voicemail, ma'am. Do you have another emergency contact?” Panic surged within me. “No, I have no one else. He must have left his phone.” The room began to spin as tears burned in my eyes. “Okay, ma’am, if you say so,” she said, sharing a pitying glance with her coworker. I felt like a charity case, abandoned in my moment of need. As they stepped out, I reached for my phone, hoping he would answer if I called again. I called, and it rang and rang six times and finally settled on voice mail. My heart felt restrained by pain. I pushed myself up again, my lungs felt compressed, and the room took a slow spin. I needed to leave her. It was suffocating to keep lying there unattended, my legs touching the bare floor, the cold seeping through my skin. It was the only thing I felt that wasn’t unbearable as I continued to waddle away from the bed then toward the exit. In the hallway, I overheard two nurses chatting. “Vivian Carter’s here. Guess who’s by her side?” Jealousy shot through me like a dagger. “That man we saw in the news! He’s so charming, always doting on her.” So, she was here too. The woman who had taken my place at work, “Yes, the same man we saw her with on the news! Damn, he’s so fine and so romantic he couldn’t keep his hands off her.” Jealousy seeped into my mind apparently her alleged partner was here too, and if I wasn’t mistaken, she was the one who slammed right into my car. At least she had a man there with her. What did I get? A man who wouldn’t even pick up my calls when I needed him the most. The pain became insufferable; I took my phone, and I dialed Adrian again. While walking further into the hallway, everything stops when I see Adrian in the distance talking to Caleb, his assistant. For a moment I felt excited that he was here. Maybe the head nurse finally got to him. But his voice was so loud that I could hear a snippet of his sentence from where I stood. “Vivian is in this accident because of your stupidity. You caused it! What is your problem? What if she lost her life? Vivian? it could not be… Maybe it was someone else, a doppelganger, so I took my phone and I called him again. I saw him pause, then pull his phone out of his pocket, irritated by the view. He finally picked up, words failed me. “What is it? I am busy.” His voice is abrupt. “I… I.” “Elena, if you are not going to say anything, you should stop calling. I am busy with work.” I scoff, he lied with so much ease that I even doubt myself. If I wasn’t already watching Mr. ‘Busy with work,’ I would believe he actually was. “Busy? in the hospital?” I chirp, finally able to finish a whole sentence. There was silence on the other side of the phone as he looked around, but I was hiding behind a tall vase, which covered my frame. “Who told you that?’’ “News, the news,” I confirmed. He sighed. “Find something better to do, the news is lying. I am at work. Why don’t you make good use of your time and prepare for dinner? I will meet you at home.” He spoke, and without hesitation the call ended. Three years of marriage and it all came falling down… I staggered backward, resting on the wall to support myself. The name Vivian was bad news. And a part of me prayed it wasn’t the same Vivian I knew, so I took my phone, and I searched the latest net gossip news with her name as a hashtag and with Andrian too, and I saw her holding hands with Andrian as they found their way through paparazzi. She had her hands on her abdomen, like she was protecting something, which only made my blood boil with pain when I saw people talking about a possible pregnancy. She could not possibly be pregnant for him, could she? An odd way to see your husband cheating was in the lips of everyone. There was no way of escaping it. Maybe it’s just me, so I check the comments, reading through every line desperately, just to see how well everyone knew both of them but me. The head nurse, who once attended to me, finally noticed me outside the hospital ward and then took me back. “We will have to call someone else.” “I will go home I don’t want to be here.” My day was already ruined. The name flying all around the news was the same lady who was introduced to me as a ‘close childhood friend.’ I had seen her pictures so much on Adrian's phone and heard her make uncomfortable inside jokes, and each time I brought it up, I was tagged a nag. Paranoid. Jealous. Our longest conversation was that fateful day when she compared me to a bag gifted to me by Adrian. She called it tacky after claiming her partner had gifted the exact same bag to her, but she rejected it because it was cheap and tacky, but somehow it soothed me. I felt so irritated that I shoved it away and never used it again. Now that I think about it, what if the man she was talking about was none other than Adrian? How long has their relationship been going on, and how long was I going to be the fool and charity case in my relationship? The nurses finally let me go with a prescription, and when I got home, I went straight to making dinner; besides, it was our third anniversary. Adrian would be back with gifts, and he would explain why he lied, it must be a misunderstanding. And like I hoped, he walked through the door barehanded. My hopes fell right through once more. I could barely move when he leaned over and kissed me on my cheeks, I repelled him, disgust welling deep within me. “What is it? You don’t want to kiss me? He tries to force a kiss on me again, and his hands press on my rib, where it hurts the most. I push him away. Stifling a scream. “What’s your problem now, Elena? Let me guess, you have something to say, huh?” Speechless, I watched him take a seat before me. “You want to nag, the news is lying. I was busy at work, I wasn’t at the hospital. Get out of your damn head for once.” The irritation in his voice is back, and it disgusted me even more. “I want a divorce, Adrian.”