Everything

XLVIII

As I blinked, the fog lifted and my eyes readjusted to my surroundings.

I was propped up in a bed which wasn't my own, in a stark white hospital room, pretty much empty save for me and the usual hospital paraphernalia.

What the hell was going on?

I groaned, the light above my head temporarily blinding me before all the events of the last two days came flooding back.

You don't love me enough for this, Adriana. Go.

I winced at the memory, his voice clear and sharp in my mind.

Running. Running out of the room, running down the corridor, towards the elevator...then nothing at all...blackness, emptiness, void.

What had happened?

"Ms. Haywood?" A voice questioned, "It is Ms. Haywood isn't it?"

I pressed a hand to my throbbing temple, grimacing at the loud noise, before spotting where the source came from.

It was a nurse, and she'd shuffled over to where I was lying in bed, fiddling with something.

It was only then that I realised I was hooked up to an IV, a bag of fluids on my left hand side pumping into my veins via a needle covered with a plaster.

"This is almost done," the nurse with kind, hazel eyes smiled down at me, "Apparently you gave everyone on the ward quite a fright, tumbling over like you did. Thankfully a few nurses spotted you and identified you from the name on the business cards in your purse."

Something in her voice was like a memory. Like something I'd heard before.

"I'm sorry..." I mumbled, frowning, more than confused, "What's...happened?"

"Dehydration, it seems." She nodded, "I've just taken over from the nurse on shift before me, so I haven't read your chart yet. I'm Sarah. We've been looking after you for the past half an hour. You had a nasty fall in the hall close to the trauma unit. Were you here to visit someone?"

"My...my husband," I croaked, sitting up in bed, my throat rough like sandpaper. I wasn't sure if Spencer wanted to be my husband anymore. And the thought was like a sucker punch to the gut.

"Oh dear," she cooed, correctly interpreting my distress, "Well, here. Have some water. I'll just read your chart so I'm up to date - check what your blood work is saying. Sound good?"

She reached over to a table I hadn't seen previously, pouring out water from a plastic jug with a filtered lid into a polystyrene cup.

"Thank you," I took the cup with shaking hands and brought it to my lips, savouring the relief as the cool liquid slid down my throat, "I--I didn't realise I fell over."

"That's okay, sweetheart." She nodded.

That was it. It suddenly dawned on me with her using Spencer's term of endearment.

"You're British." I said, receiving a look which told me I was extremely slow off the bat.

She smiled, "Born and raised in Bath, not many people Stateside have heard of it. Think rolling hills and rivers. I won't bore you."

"No, no, it's just my husband, he's from London. We've only recently come back from our--" my voice cracked, "Never mind."

She pursed her lips together, her expression smacking of sympathy, "Let's read your chart, hm? Get you back to your husband."

"That would be nice." I nodded, my heart tugging in my chest at the thought of his cruel rejection.

He'd come around, surely? Surely he'd just need some time to adjust to all of this? We were meant to be. He knew that just as well as I did. And it didn't matter how I had him. As long as I had him.