Beneath His Cold Vows novel Chapter 5

Alicia's POV

The hours after surgery blurred into one long, aching stretch of waiting.

The fluorescent lights in the hospital waiting room had lost their mercy hours ago. Since I arrived, they had cut through the quiet, making every shadow sharp, every line in my face obvious in the reflection of the glass wall I leaned against. The rain still hadn't stopped. It came in waves against the panes, rattling as if the storm was determined to test every wall and every heart in this place.

I didn't know how long I'd been staring at the window before I noticed my parents again. They were huddled close together on the stiff vinyl chairs, shoulders pressed, my mother's rosary slack in her hand now that exhaustion had claimed her. My father's arm was curled around her, his head tilted back against the wall. Their eyes were closed, but it wasn't sleep. It was a collapse, born from carrying too much for too long.

And they were shivering.

The air conditioning in the waiting room didn't care that it was storming outside. It blasted through the vents like we were all sitting in a freezer, and my parents, both well into their sixties, clung to each other like children trying to keep warm.

My chest tightened until it was hard to breathe.

This was what I had asked Edward for. Not jewels, not flowers, or whatever expensive distraction he thought could be shoved into my hands when he was absent. Just a driver. Just a car. Someone to bring blankets or sweaters from the house. Something to keep my parents warm while their youngest daughter fought for her life.

But there was no car.

No driver.

No Edward.

I stood before I could think better of it. My legs ached, stiff from hours of pacing, but I pushed forward to the nurse's desk.

"Excuse me," I said, my voice hoarse. "Do you have any extra blankets? Anything at all? My parents—" My throat closed. "It's cold."

The nurse barely looked up, eyes tired behind her glasses. "We only stock enough for patients, ma'am. Not families. I'm sorry."

The words sank into me, slow and unavoidable. I nodded, careful to appear collected, forcing myself together because unravelling here meant no one could put me back.

I shuffled to the waiting area, every step heavier than the last.

If the hospital couldn't help, then it had to be me.

I pulled off my thin denim jacket that had done little against the storm earlier, but was all I had. Carefully, I draped it over my mother's shoulders. She stirred, murmured my name, but didn't wake. I smoothed the collar, then reached for the scratchy hospital blanket I'd begged earlier from a nurse who took pity on me. It wasn't enough to cover them both, but I tucked it around my father, layering it over the jacket.

I sat back down and wrapped my arms around myself.

The cold cut deeper now, gnawing into my skin. My fingers trembled against my elbows. But at least my parents were covered. At least they wouldn't shake quite as hard.

I told myself that mattered more.

Minutes ticked by. The storm howled louder. And still, Edward didn't come.

I tilted my head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. How many times had I swallowed the same ache in this marriage? Had I told myself it was fine, that I was fine, that this was what I agreed to?

But tonight felt different.

Tonight it wasn't just me left in the cold. It was my parents. It was my sister fighting for her life behind closed doors while my husband sat in warmth, in jazz and chandeliers, in some woman's company.

The thought seared hot through the chill.

I closed my eyes. For a moment, I imagined him walking through those doors, shrugging out of his coat, draping it over my shoulders like he used to in the early days, before everything between us hardened into contracts and silence. The image hurt so much that I forced it away.

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