Sometimes we’d do anything to make people we love happy, even if that means that we won’t be part of their happiness.
The only thing I could think of while staring at the white ceiling was that it had it better than me. Why did I even compare myself to the ceiling? I’ll never know. It looked so hollow, so empty, but I was worse.
Numb, hollow, and broken.
Although I was finally able to open my eye, I didn’t think that I’ll be able to use it for a long time. The hell with it. I didn’t even think that I’ll ever be able to see with it again. The doctor said that I had some hope, but even I could read in between lines; no matter how hard he tried not to show it, he knew I was just another helpless case.
My legs were broken. But then I remembered that I had it better than one person, regardless of whether or not I stayed paralyzed for the rest of my life.
I had it much better than Blake.
The man I loved thought that I was dead. Many believe that it’s painful when someone dies. I believed the same. But with Blake it was different; he had it worse.
Blake thought that my so-called death was his fault. I did storm out of his house after witnessing that scene, that scene so sour I never wanted to remember again, but knew that I couldn’t. What a fool I was to so easily doubt him, the one whom I cherished the most.
If I hadn’t doubted him, then I wouldn’t have been hit by the car, the one driven by Ethan, the man that scarred my friend for eternity. Melissa and Max were never going to have their happiness because she was never going to be able to overcome her fear of love.
Why was Lucas so fucked-up? Couldn’t he have just left us alone to spend the rest of our lives in happiness? What was I saying? He willingly gave his daughter to the man that abused her, so why would he care about his son’s happiness? As long as his business was alright, no one’s happiness mattered; that’s what was clear with him.
Of course, Lucas would have thought like that; he didn’t even hesitate to hit his unborn grandchild with a car for fuck’s sake.
They say that love is a sacrifice. When you love the person, you’re ready to suffer and die in an instant so that they can smile and be happy. For the sake of that person, you’d do anything, and the person doesn’t even need to know that you are protecting them. It doesn’t matter to you that they find out. As long as you know that the very same person you love will live his or her happily ever after, you’re more than fine.
That’s why I was so sad. That’s why I so wanted to say sorry to Blake.
No matter how much I loved him, how much it killed me that he was blaming himself for my “death,” how much I longed to be by his side, this was the right thing to do. I clung to the belief that he would be able to overcome my death one day and live in the blissful ignorance, maybe even marry off again.
For as long as I was by his side, Lucas wouldn’t be able to stay calm.
If I returned, Ayden would’ve been killed. Our son, Christian, would’ve been killed. And then, for all I knew, even Blake could’ve ended the same way trying to protect me. Lucas was a monster; he had probably killed Blake’s sister; he almost killed Melissa as well. He arranged all of this so that both my son and I would die, so why wouldn’t he try to kill him as well?
I was truly sorry, but even though I knew that I wouldn’t be able to be a part of Blake’s life anymore, I knew that I was at least going to be the reason of the happiness he would feel one day.
Slowly moving my head aside—I had a hard time getting used to me having only one functional eye—I saw the doors to my room open, and a nurse entered. I think that her name was Mary; I wasn’t sure. I no longer wanted to think at that moment; I just wanted to die.
Selfish? Yeah, I knew that it was selfish. My way of protecting Blake was so, so wrong, yet I knew of no better way to deal with it.
“You’re awake, miss? Someone was eager to see you.” She chuckled, and that’s when I saw him. Nestled in her arms, a little creature that was the reason I forgot about wanting to die laughed at me. The same little creature that brought me to Blake, that bonded us, that made me laugh so many times and meet playful Blake’s side, that gave me the will to live. I didn’t even need to hear what she wanted to tell me to know who that was: my son. It was our little Christian, Blake’s and mine.
I don’t know how I did it, but I raised my arm toward him before the nurse gently placed him next to me on the bed. I wrapped my functional arm around him. I took that chance to study him; he was so little, which I knew was because he was born earlier than supposed, as the doctor explained to me before. However, he had survived a miscarriage, and that was a miracle by itself.
He is our little miracle indeed.
He had my hair, blond. Blake had raven black, and I was a little glad that it wasn’t his hair he inherited because it would’ve been so hard for me to look at him. It would always remind me of his father.
I brought my other hand in cast to his hair and gently touched his head. I was right; not only did it look soft, but it also felt like that.
I chuckled, and he opened his eyes, making me gasp. Who’d have thought he would inherit his father’s eyes, that gentle blue color that made him look like a little angel. Knowing the crazy genes that ran through Blake’s family, I had already guessed that they were going to be blue, but it still surprised me how much they were like Blake’s.
The sad reality hit me again. Our child was never going to meet his father, his father who believed that his son was dead.
“I’m sorry.” I hiccupped, hugging him tighter. “I’m so sorry…That you had to be born in this family. I’m sorry, Christian.” I cried for his fate. I could already see him, grown up and playing with other children when one of them would ask that horrible question: Where’s your dad?
Just what would he feel then? What would he reply to something like that?
“I’m sorry.”
By then, my sobbing had already turned to crying, and I felt like I couldn’t do anything else. I hoped that, at any second, Blake would burst through that hospital door and hug me, kiss me, and tell me that everything was going be alright…But I knew it’s impossible.
He thought that I was dead after all.
It was then that I felt something touch my nose, and I opened my eye to see that it was Chris’s tiny hand. He was staring at me quietly as if he knew what I was going through, as if he understood it. I had held him for less than five minutes, and I already knew that I’d die without a second thought for him if necessary.
I decided right then and there that I was going to protect him with my own life, silently waiting for my chance and somehow, somewhere…
I was going to make everyone who hurt us pay.
And that was a promise!
The End