One Week Later

“So you’ve got everything?”

Laughing, I give my mom one final hug. “Yes, for the tenth time.” Wiping away her tears, I smile. “Hey, no crying. Enough tears have been shed to last us all a lifetime.” And I mean it.

They say what doesn’t break you makes you stronger, and it’s true. Walking away from Saxon after our teary farewell was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. But he’s right. I can’t love him with just half my heart; he deserves so much more. We both do.

It wasn’t because I didn’t love him that I said goodbye; it’s because I do that I’m determined to do the right thing. The love I felt for Sam hasn’t magically disappeared overnight. And I don’t know if it ever will. But the fact I was torn, no matter how small the confusion, is enough for me to know it’s time I did what I should have done months ago—I choose myself.

I was caught in a spiraling catastrophe, trying to make other people happy, and I forgot about the most important person of all—me. And that’s what has me standing in the airport, ready to make my trek halfway across the world.

All those months ago, which now seem like a lifetime ago, I took my mom’s advice, becoming conscious of the truth that going on the three-month aid tour of Syria was the only way to follow my heart. To see what true chaos is to appreciate the calm. I thought it then, and now, it’s just amplified tenfold. The time away from both Saxon and Sam is what I need, and with an open ticket, when I return, I can only hope the murkiness will disappear, giving light to what my future holds.

I haven’t told Saxon because we agreed it’ll just make things easier if we cut all ties. I read a quote a few days ago, and it resonated with me because in my case, it’s true. If only I’d realized this a lifetime ago.

If two past lovers can remain friends, either they never were in love, or they still are.

I can’t be Saxon’s friend…but I can be Sam’s.

“I’ll take care of everything,” he says, scrolling through his phone. “I have your international number and email. I will update you when I can. I know you said your cell service might not be great. But I’ll keep trying.”

“Thanks. Friend.” The awkwardness between us will always be present, but my love and the confusion I felt for him is gone. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…

“Here.” Piper muscles past Sam to pass me three containers filled with Tums. “These should tide you over. To hopefully settle your queasiness.” But I have no doubt once I step onto the plane, my nerves will subside.

Sam steps off to the side because although we’re able to act civil, Piper and the rest of my family aren’t so forgiving. “Thank you, Piper.” This woman has stuck with me through thick and thin. I will never be able to repay her for everything she’s done. But that’s the thing—she never expects me to. “I’m going to miss you.” Throwing my arms around her, I hug her tight.

“You’ll be back before you have a chance,” she whispers, but we both know that’s not entirely true. My stint is supposed to be for three months, but with no return date planned, I don’t know when I’ll be back. She kisses me on the cheek, holding back her tears.

My dad soon takes her place. “Be safe, baby girl. Check in when you can.”

“I will,” I promise. I’ve never felt safer than when in my father’s arms, and when he embraces me, kissing the crown of my head, I know I’ll treasure this memory when times get tough.

He makes room for my mom who, although she promised she wouldn’t cry, has tears spilling down her cheeks. “Call me the minute you land.”

“Okay.” I fell in love with her the moment I saw her. She opened her heart and home and shaped me into the woman I am today. It’s because of her I hold back my tears and smile. “Don’t cry, Mom. I’m going to chase the chaos just like you told me to. Thank you. For everything. Everything I am…I owe to you.” She bursts into tears, burying me in her chest.

How lucky am I to have such an astounding group of people in my life that I call family? My father gently pulls her away when the announcement broadcasts over the speakers for me to board.

Sam’s uneasiness is evident, but he strolls toward me just the same. “I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Yes, you will.” Although it’s awkward, it’s just confirmation that I’m doing the right thing. “Take care, Sam.” Without a hint of reservation, I hug him. For the first time ever, I feel nothing. And just like that, my love scatters to the wind and memories soon take its place.

I’m the one to break our union, happy that I can do so without a hint of regret. Sam still wears his love for me all over his face, so my leaving is good for the both of us. We will never be again, and Sam needs to accept that as truth.

He lightly holds my waist, appearing to catalogue every last inch of me to memory because that’s all we’ll ever have. As he sighs, I instantly get the sense we’re being watched. When I tune into the static, goose bumps lick my skin.

Only one man has the ability to incite an inferno within me.

My body, as always, is in sync with his, but I don’t turn around. I’m afraid of what will happen if I do. I’ve been so brave up until this point, but knowing Saxon came to say goodbye, my heart doesn’t stand a chance.

“Okay, I’d better go.” I sniff back my tears, prepared for the breakdown the moment I pass through those gates. I hug my loved ones for the last time, hoping that when we see one another next, things will be different.

My mother squeezes my hand. She understands why I’m on the verge of tears. “Love doesn’t make sense. Love happens when you least expect it. It’s inconvenient, messy, and reckless, but that’s the beauty of it. It isn’t a decision; it’s a promise. A promise to chase inconvenient, messy, and reckless love with someone who embraces the chaos with you.” It’s everything I need to hear.

Whether Saxon is really here or it’s just the dreamer in me shining through, I’ll never know. But whatever the truth, it warms me to know that I always come back to him. Bidding my family goodbye, I walk toward my future, intent on never looking back.

I have no idea of the time or day, but after flying thirty-plus hours, I have finally arrived. I called my mom the moment I landed because my flight had delays. After that, I caught a cab to my hotel where I showered and collected my thoughts.

After giving up on the notion of eating, I called my colleagues and asked where they were. They were about forty minutes away at a mobile clinic, administering medication to people in need.

After the latest attack, this time a chemical weapons attack, the death toll has risen into the hundreds. The injured were in the multitudes. So without hesitation, I jumped into a van, driven by my fellow co-worker, Johnny, and we headed toward a place many would avoid.

The sight before me broke my heart as barely anything was left. Syria was in ruins. Forgetting everything before this second, I leap from the car the moment it’s safe to exit. The white tent is open, the only thing protecting the workers and patients inside from the harsh weather is a peaked roof.

The scene is that of complete bedlam—workers run off their feet, people screaming in pain. I roll up the sleeves of my shirt, ready to tackle the chaos headfirst. The air is heavy with ash from the trundling wind blowing a storm.

“Anna!” I call out when I see my colleague. She’s carrying a handful of bandages and other medical supplies. I run to her aid, adamant that she unload her loot.

“Lucy? When did you get in?” She smiles, thankful for the help.

“About an hour ago,” I reply, following her as she rushes into the tent. The moment I step foot inside, the true devastation can be seen. “Oh, my god.” Tears prick my eyes.

Beds line up as far as the eye can see, and all are filled with people, mainly children, hooked up to ventilators and other specialized equipment to help them breathe. Doctors run from bed to bed, ensuring all patients are still alive. The conditions are hardly ideal as the floor is rock-strewn debris, but it’s far enough away from the focal warzone.

“It’s bad, Lucy. Thanks for coming. We could really use your help.”

We sprint through the tent to a closed-off area, handing the supplies to nurses in blue scrubs. The moment a young doctor emerges, covered in blood, my stomach drops, and I suddenly feel the urge to be sick. Unable to hold it down, I spot a trash can and make it just in time to throw up my guts.

“Lucy? Are you okay?” Anna is rubbing my back as I heave up the entire contents of my stomach. Bent at the waist and too afraid to talk, I nod. I wave her off, implying I’ll be fine, and there are more important people to worry about than me.

When I think it’s safe to stand, I rise slowly, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. A cold sweat coats my entire body. Regardless, I pull it together and forget about my trivial troubles.

After twelve grueling hours, Anna and I finally call it a night. A makeshift barracks around back allows the staff to catch a few hours’ sleep before getting back into the thick of it.

I am beyond tired. Both mentally and physically.

As Anna and I trudge toward our camp, she peers over at me, concerned. “You need to eat.”

I can’t help but smile. “I will.” But my response is far from promising.

Our lodging for the evening is five single beds, packed closely together in case we need to get up and run. It may not be much, but I’ve never been more thankful to see a pillow and starchy gray blanket. We slump onto the thin mattresses, fatigued beyond words. As I kick off my shoes, a wave of nausea passes over me yet again.

Hunting through my backpack, I find my box of Tums. Popping one into my mouth, I instantly feel better. “How long have you been sick?” Anna asks, wiping her dirtied face with a wet cloth.

“For a few weeks, I guess. A lot has been going on.” And it has.

“Have you gone to the doctor?”

“No, it’s just a stomach bug. I’ll be fine.” Anna doesn’t look convinced. “What?”

She is clearly weighing what to say. “You don’t think you’re…? Never mind.”

“I’m what?” I sit taller, crossing my legs under me.

“Pregnant?”

A laugh erupts from me. “No, definitely not. I’m on birth control.”

“Honey, so was I. Then little Ebony arrived.” Ebony is daughter number seven.

“No, that’s not possible,” I reaffirm. Because it’s not, right? I’ve been feeling off due to the amount of stress I’ve been under lately because god knows, there’s been a lot of it.

“Okay, but you could always double check.”

“How? It’s not like I can make a midnight run to Walgreens.” Talking about this is just adding to my queasiness.

“You could always have your blood tested. It’ll take a little longer than back home, but we are surrounded by doctors,” she says, pulling back the blanket from her bed.

“Doctors who have more important things to deal with than my stomach bug.” I’m defensive, and I have no idea why.

“Take it from someone who’s had eight kids; the sooner you find out, the better it is.” She settles into bed, leaving me with words of wisdom that just make me want to puke some more.

Five Days Later

“Lucy, take a break.”

I’ve heard those words on repeat for the past five days.

After my talk with Anna, the nausea only seemed to get worse. I’m still living in denial because I can’t be pregnant. But as I peer at the calendar on my phone, the 18th come and gone, the odds are stacked against me. I put my lateness down to my stress, but now, I’m not so sure.

There is no way this can be true because I don’t want it to be.

Anna passes me a bottle of water, no words needed. I gulp it down, thankful I can keep something down without wanting to throw up. “Sweetie, I’m only saying this because I love you, but if you don’t let me take your blood, I will take it when you’re asleep.”

Tact has never been a strong suit of Anna’s, but it’s welcomed. “Fine. I’m only doing this to prove you wrong,” I say, rolling up my sleeve. Anna is a nurse by trade, so I don’t doubt her threats.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I guzzle down my water. I’ve never had a fear of needles or blood, but when Anna opens the medical packet, producing a needle and vial, my cheeks bellow as I hold back my vomit.

Unable to look, I glance away, feeling like a complete chicken. It’s over in seconds, but I am still lightheaded when I stand. “Now, maybe you’ll let it go once you see the results are negative.”

She labels my vial of blood, grinning. “We’ll see.”

Dr. Edgerton enters after working a sixteen-hour shift. But this is common practice for us all. “Taking a break, girls? Good. You’ve both been run off your feet.” As he makes a beeline for the bottles of water, he notices Anna holding my blood. “Is everything all right?” I suddenly feel beyond guilty for agreeing.

“Can you check Lucy’s bloodwork when you can? She’s been feeling a little…pregnant.”

“Anna!” I admonish, embarrassed. “Dr. Edgerton, I completely understand you have better things to do than this. It’s fine, really.”

But he shakes his head, his kind eyes expressing nothing but understanding. “Of course, I will. You’re a valued team member, Lucy. If you are pregnant, it’s best you know right away. Being here is dangerous for everyone. You don’t want to put your unborn child at risk. Being exposed to diseases and…”

But his sentence remains unfinished because a deafening boom pierces our eardrums and dust clouds our vision. It only takes me a second to realize we’re under attack.

“Get down!” Dr. Edgerton uses his body as a shield, taking both Anna and me to the ground.

The world explodes around us, the pained cries of civilians mingling with the mayhem. The noise is unlike anything I’ve ever heard before. It seems to last for hours, not minutes, but those minutes are the longest and most crucial moments of my life.

My life flashes before my eyes. From the beginning to end. I see myself as a small child, the years fast-forwarding as I grow into the woman I am today. An ache so deep slashes through me because only one thought runs on a loop—if I die here today, I will never look into his eyes, those soulful depths which have pulled me from murky waters time and time again. I will never feel his touch. I will never be able to tell him how much I love him and how I’m dying without him, piece by piece.

The longing I feel, the constant emptiness I dance with every breath I take, is all because of him. I know we agreed to cut all ties, but I miss him…so fucking much. A flutter stirs in my belly, and this time, it’s a tickle…a tickle of hope.

My ears are ringing, but when the weight shifts, I know the air strike has stopped. “Are you okay?” Dr. Edgerton’s voice seems miles away, but I nod.

Patting myself down, I see that I’m unscathed and so is Anna. But when a hysterical cry of a child catches on the foul-smelling air, I know we’re some of the lucky ones. Without a moment to lose, I run onto the battlefield, seeking out the crying youngster. I see him, feet away, cowering under the bed he was once lying upon.

It’s a flurry of survivors, attending to the victims, but my eye is on that little boy. His face is smeared with dirt, all except a clear path where his tears are falling. “It’s okay. I’m coming!” I shout to be heard over the bedlam.

Other people cry out for help, but I can’t stop, not now. I keep running until I reach his bed. Dropping to my knees, I extend my hands and assure him he’s okay. With complete trust, how only a child can, he scrambles toward me and buries himself in my arms. I promise he’ll be okay as I rub his back, peering at the damage around us.

Shielding his eyes, I hope to spare him the destruction and the awful memories he will always associate with this day. Some of my colleagues help the wounded while others give the dead the dignity they deserve.

My stomach does a backflip, but this time, it isn’t plagued with nausea. It’s filled with a sense of peace. Could it be possible, that by some fated mishap, a miracle, our miracle grows within me? In this war-ravaged place, can something so beautiful exist? The child I hold in my arms who, regardless of his circumstances, can open his heart to a mere stranger is proof that beauty exists far and wide.

Anna is ushering those who can walk to the back tent where ambulances and transport are waiting to transfer them to a safe location. Standing slowly, I tell the child, whose name I don’t even know, that we’re going to a safe place. I’m surprised to see that he’s fallen asleep in my arms.

That isn’t a deterrent as I aid the wounded, finally finding my peace. Finally finding where I belong.

We’re settled in a new makeshift hospital, an hour from where the air strike occurred. The crowded area doesn’t have enough beds, but everyone is helping where they can. Rami, the young boy I helped, found his mom. They were separated and, by some miracle, reunited over tragedy.

She thanked me profusely for helping her son, but little did she know, he’s the one who helped me. The need to protect him was automatic and made room for what might be.

As I’m bandaging a leg wound, my cell chimes in my back pocket. At first, I have no idea what it is because our remoteness over the past five days has left me with no service. I let it go to voicemail because nothing is more important than this.

However, five minutes in, my phone’s still vibrating constantly in my back pocket, so I quickly finish. Washing my hands, I decide to see who the caller is because they clearly can’t take a hint. Helping a few colleagues along the way, I make it outside the tent where I can talk. The destruction still devastates me, no matter how many times I see it. The ruins surrounding me were people’s homes. Now, they are nothing but broken dreams, torn apart by a war they never wanted.

With that as my driving point, I reach for my cell, intending to make this short. However, what I see has alarm bells ringing. I have fifty plus missed calls and over a hundred text messages. I have no idea who the number belongs to.

A wave of terror upsurges around me, and I suddenly can’t breathe.

With frantic fingers, I attempt to call the mysterious number, only for it to flash on my screen. I don’t hesitate and answer it right away.

“Hello?” Silence. “Hello?” I repeat, pressing the phone to my ear, listening for any clues.

After a few seconds, I hear what sounds like my name. “Luc…” Unfortunately, that’s all I hear. The connection is awful.

“Hello? Can you hear me?” Nothing. An ominous warning blares loudly, so I hurriedly move to a different spot. “Hello?”

“Lu…cy?” The connection is still terrible, but through the static, I’m almost certain I’m talking to Sam.

Annoyance surfaces as although he did say he would call if anything happened, being here has put everything into perspective. I don’t have time to discuss this. “Sam, look…”

“…accident…”

That word, that one single word silences me and brings with it a flood of emotion. “Sam…I can’t hear you. You’re breaking up.” My heart begins a disjointed cadence. “Hang on…” I wave the phone in the air as I peer at the screen, hoping to find a hotspot. When the bars increase, I stay put, afraid to move a muscle. I press the phone to my ear.

“Lucy…it’s me, Sam. Can you hear me?” I’m thankful that yes, I can, but the urgency of his tone has me wetting my suddenly dry lips.

“Yes. I can hear you. What’s wrong?”

Silence once again.

Nostalgia wraps me in a tight bubble, and I don’t understand why. That is, until the world stops spinning, and I relive the worst day of my life. But this time…this is so much worse.

“There’s been an accident.”

It’s unimaginable how one simple, ordinary word can change a person’s life forever.

“Lucy? Lucy, can you hear me?” asks my ex-fiancé, Sam. The trepidation laces his tone, but I can’t speak. I can’t verbalize that yes, I can hear him, because the moment I do, I’ll have to accept this horrible nightmare as being real.

I don’t fail to see the resemblances to the past and now.

Pulling it together, I refuse to believe. Fate wouldn’t be that cruel. “I-I can hear you. What accident?”

It’s funny the things you remember and the things you don’t. But sometimes, those forgotten memories are brought back to life by a simple word, a certain smell, or sometimes, a single moment. Sadly, for me, this is a memory, a moment I will never be able to forget.

“It’s Saxon…”

And alas, it seems that fate will always find a way.