Unstoppable Love

Chapter 25

The call came late at night, just as Santiago was wrapping up a recording session. He almost didn't pick it up—he had been working for hours and was exhausted—but something in him compelled him to answer. It was Lily's old friend, the one who had been there at the book signing all those years ago. His voice was thick with emotion.

"Santiago... it's Lily. There's been an accident."

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. "What happened?" he asked, his voice rough with panic.

"She and her husband were in a car crash," the friend explained. "He... he didn't make it. Lily's in the hospital. She's unconscious."

Santiago's heart stopped for a moment, the world tilting on its axis. Lily. Unconscious. Her husband... gone. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Without saying another word, he grabbed his jacket and ran out the door, his heart racing.

When Santiago arrived at the hospital, he was out of breath, his chest tight with fear and desperation. He rushed through the sterile corridors, the scent of disinfectant sharp in the air, until he found the room. The friend was outside "she's in there"...

And there she was.

When he opened the door, the sight of her took his breath away.

Lily lay still in the hospital bed, her skin pale against the stark white sheets. Her body looked so small, so fragile, hooked up to machines and IVs. There were bruises on her face, a cut along her cheek. She looked broken, and it tore him apart.

For a moment, he just stood there, staring at her, the shock of seeing her like this crashing into him all at once. His mind raced, his chest tightening with grief and fear. Her husband was dead, and Lily was unconscious, hanging in the balance. He had always known life was fragile, but seeing her like this made him realize just how quickly everything could change.

He moved closer, his hands shaking as he reached for hers. Her fingers were cold, and he gripped them gently, bending down to press his lips against the back of her hand. His heart felt heavy, the weight of what had happened pressing down on him.

"Lily," he whispered, his voice cracking as he sat beside her. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

He wasn't sure if she could hear him, wasn't sure if she would even remember this moment. But he needed to say it. He needed her to know.

"You're going to be okay," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I'll make sure of it."

Santiago leaned forward, resting his forehead against the edge of the bed, the scent of disinfectant and hospital linen surrounding him. He closed his eyes, the grief of what had happened hitting him full force. He knew her husband had died, and the guilt of what he was feeling ate at him. Part of him wanted to promise Lily that they would never be apart again, that he would take care of her forever, the way she had always taken care of him. But he knew now wasn't the time for promises like that.

She had just lost her husband.

He couldn't push her, couldn't make this about them, about the connection they had always shared. This was about her—about her pain, her grief, her loss. He didn't know how to do it, but he swore then that he would be there for her, the way she had been there for him so many times before. Even if it took every ounce of strength he had, he would take care of her the way she had taken care of him all those years ago.

The days that followed were some of the hardest of his life. Lily remained unconscious, her body healing slowly, but there was no sign of when she would wake up. Santiago stayed by her side every day, sitting quietly in the hospital room, waiting for any small sign that she was coming back to him.