The other woman

Healing

⚠️ Trigger warning again in this one my lovelies! As I mentioned yesterday, this one contains talk of self harm/suicide. If you're not comfortable, feel free to skip through until near the end xx

Are you sure you're ok?" Britta's concerned voice filled the Porche Cayenne. "You really don't sound like your usual self. Is it Alex? She really is alright, isn't she? Is there something wrong that you're not telling me?"

He rolled his eyes. Nothing got past Britta, there were times when he'd swear that she knew him better than he knew himself. "I'm fine, really." He carried on looking for a parking space, the hospital car park was unusually busy today.

"Do you think she'll be fit to travel to England?" She asked. "Want me to arrange cover for her, just in case?"

He could barely think about the next race right now, all he could think of was Alex's scars.

"Maybe she'd be best to sit it out until after the summer break." Britta continued. "Speaking of which, have you and Gisela decided on what you're doing yet? Is it Greece or the summer house Finland?"

Seeing a dark red Volvo reversing out of a space, he braked and patiently waited. His finger hovered over the end call button on the centre console, Britta's questions were getting irritating, even though she meant well. "I'm at the hospital now, I'll have to go otherwise I'll be late collecting Alex. Bye Britta." He hit the button before she had the chance to reply, he had too much on his mind to be even starting to think about summer break or whether Alex would be fit to travel to the next race or not, though leaving her behind wasn't an option either. He didn't want to let her out of his sight.

He swung the car, nose first, into the space the second the Volvo was out of the way. He'd been trying all night to mentally prepare himself to hear what Alex had to say but he still didn't feel ready.

Reaching behind the front seats, he grabbed a brown paper bag, containing a change of clothes for her. It'd felt kind of wrong when he'd rifled through her things this morning so he'd just grabbed the kind of things he was used to seeing her wear. He'd then gone round the house, opening the curtains and blinds and switching off every light that she'd left on, he'd even tidied up in the kitchen, loading everything that she'd used into the dishwasher. As he got out of the car, he briefly wondered if he should've bought her some flowers or something but knowing Alex (or Aleksandra, just lately he never knew which one he was going to get each day) she'd only point out how she wasn't sick or dead.

His heart was racing by the time he got inside and found his way to her new room where she'd been moved to late last night, his insides churning with a mixture apprehension and excitement at seeing her. If there was one thing he'd taken from what had happened yesterday, it was that he'd make damn sure she never reached the depths of despair again that had led to her trying to take her own life. She was more precious to him than she knew and he had to show her that, he had to start treating her better and that meant reaching a decision - either explore and pursue whatever this thing was between them or draw a line under it, agree to stay as friends and concentrate on his wife and young family. For most people this would be a no brainer, a man's wife and kids would win every time but for someone who'd found their soulmate, a woman who unintentionally threw his whole life into question? It wasn't quite so straight forward, there'd been a lot of internal debate and soul searching but in the end, he knew that he couldn't let this chance slip through his fingers.

She was looking expectantly towards the door when he walked in. "You're late." She drawled before breaking out into a grin and adding, "but only just."

"Blame Britta." He replied, smiling. She seemed a lot better today, she looked rested and relaxed - unlike himself. "I was on the phone to her in the car nearly all the way here. She sends her love."