The Red Thread

Chapter 67

When the doctor finally comes out and says that Addy’s going to be fine, it's like the tension in the air breaks. I watch as her mom, who’s been on edge for hours, finally relaxes. She lets out a breath she’s been holding, and Christian steps up to give her a big hug, wrapping her in his arms. It's a much-needed moment of comfort, and I can see the relief in her eyes.

Liam comes rushing into the waiting area, out of breath and looking worried. He's been with Lily, making sure she's okay after the accident, but now he's here, and that’s a good sign. We all turn to him, and Addy's mom is the first to ask, "How's Lily?"Liam nods, trying to catch his breath. "She's fine," he says, his voice calming down. "She's sleeping. She has a fracture in her left hand and a slight concussion, but she's going to be okay."

He takes a deep breath, like he's trying to steady himself, then adds, "She's in the same hospital, just a few floors down."We all breathe a sigh of relief. It's good news in the middle of all this chaos. But I can tell Liam's got something else on his mind. He looks around, then at me, asking, "What about Addy? What's her condition?"I take a deep breath, the tension still tight in my chest.

"She's stable," I say, trying to sound as calm as I can. "The bullet's been removed. She has a sprained ankle and a fractured left hand, but she's going to be okay. They're keeping an eye on her for now." I hesitate, then add, "The doctor said she's dehydrated, but aside from that, she's safe."Liam nods, relieved but still serious. "That's good to hear," he says, his eyes softening. "I was worried."

Christian steps in, placing a hand on Liam's shoulder. "We'll get through this," he says, his voice steady. "Lily's okay, Addy's going to be okay. We'll take care of them."

The room is quiet, save for the soft hum of the hospital equipment and the occasional beep from the machines monitoring Addy's vital signs. She's resting in the hospital bed, her left arm in a cast and her shoulder bandaged where the bullet was removed. I've pulled a chair up beside her, just close enough to hold her hand, and I sit there, watching her breathe. It's a slow, steady rhythm that soothes me, a reminder that she's here, she's alive, and she's going to be okay.

I don't know how long I've been sitting here. Time doesn't seem to matter much in a hospital. It could be minutes or hours, but it doesn't matter because all I can think about is her. How this woman, lying in the bed, is my life. My whole world.

Everything I do, everything I am, it's all because of her. Addy has this way of centering me, of reminding me what's important. Without her, I'm just going through the motions. But with her, everything has meaning. Everything has purpose.

I think about all we've been through, all the moments we've shared, and how I couldn't imagine my life without her. I wouldn't want to. The thought alone is unbearable. She's my anchor, the one who keeps me grounded when everything else seems like it's spinning out of control.

I squeeze her hand gently, hoping she can feel it even in her sleep. I know she's been through a lot, and there's still a long road ahead, but I also know we'll get through it. Together. Because there's no other way. My life rotates around her, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

I sit there, thinking about our future, about all the things we still have to do, all the dreams we still have to fulfill. And as long as she's with me, I know we'll find a way to make it all happen. Because she's my everything, and I'll do whatever it takes to keep her safe.

I don't know when I fell asleep, but I wake up to a gentle touch on my cheek. It's soft and warm, and I jolt awake, my heart racing. The room is dimly lit, and it takes a second for my eyes to adjust. When they do, I see Addy. She's awake, her eyes on me, and I can hardly believe it.

I shoot up from my chair, pressing the call button for the doctors to come and check on her. But first, I have to know if she's okay. "Addy, do you need anything? Are you in pain?" I ask, my voice a little shaky. But she just shakes her head and gives me a small smile.

"Thank you," she says, her voice barely a whisper, but it's the best sound I've heard all day. And that's when I break. I try to hold it in, but the tears start flowing, and I can't stop them. I sit on the edge of the bed, holding her hand, and the tears keep coming.

Addy starts crying too, and we're both just sitting there, crying together. It's like all the fear and tension of the past hours is finally releasing. I can hardly speak, but I manage to get a few words out.

"You're safe," I tell her, squeezing her hand. "You're safe, and... and our baby is safe too." It feels surreal, like something out of a dream. But it's real. It's all real.

We stay like that for a moment, just holding each other and crying. The doctors rush in, but I don't care. I just keep holding Addy's hand, knowing that she's here, that she's okay, and that's all that matters. I don't know what I'd do without her, and I don't ever want to find out.

The doctors come in, and I step back, giving them space to check on Addy. They're asking her a few questions, simple stuff like her name, the date, and whether she knows where she is. It's all part of the routine to make sure she's okay, but I'm on edge. My eyes are glued to her, watching every movement, listening to every answer.

Then one of the younger doctors, a guy who looks like he's fresh out of med school, leans in a little too close and places his hand on Addy's arm. It's supposed to be comforting, but he leaves it there for a bit too long, and I feel the heat rising in my chest.

I glare at him, my eyes narrowing as I cross my arms. "You got what you need?" I ask, my tone a little sharper than I intended. The young doctor jumps back, realizing he’s overstepped, and mumbles something about just checking her vitals. I don't care. Keep your hands off my wife, buddy.

Addy notices, and I see the corner of her mouth twitch. She chuckles, a light laugh that cuts through the tension in the room. The doctors finish up, and she gives me a playful look, one eyebrow raised. "Jealous much?" she says, teasing me.

"Maybe," I reply, trying to keep a straight face, but it's hard not to smile. "You know you're mine, right?"

Addy nods, still laughing softly. "Yeah, I know," she says, squeezing my hand. It's a good sign, seeing her laugh like that. It means she's okay, that she's still herself. I guess even in a hospital room, there's room for a little jealousy. As long as she's smiling, I can live with that.