I Walked Away And He Lost His Mind (Zephyra) novel Chapter 89

I jolted awake, my first thought being that he was about to break my hand. The pain was intense. “Steven!”

I was about to slap him awake with my free hand when his eyes shot open. His forehead was slick with sweat, and his gaze was fixed on me. For the first time, I saw a flicker of genuine fear on his perpetually stoic face.

The angry words died in my throat. “Are you okay?” I asked, surprised.

He stared at me, a moment of disorientation flashing in his eyes before he let go of my hand and pressed his own against his chest. I saw his handsome features twist in pain. “Is it your heart?”

In my past life, I’d never heard of him having a heart condition.

As I was thinking, he suddenly grabbed my wrist again, his expression growing more pained.

A wave of panic hit me. “Steven, hang in there! Don’t you dare die on me!”

Logically, he shouldn’t die, at least not in this year, but so many things had already changed that I couldn’t be sure. We weren’t divorced yet, and I hadn’t gotten my million-dollar settlement. He couldn’t die now. “Larry, turn around! We’re going to the hospital!” I yelled, slapping the back of the driver’s seat.

Steven tightened his grip on my hand, his voice hoarse. “No. We’re going to the estate.”

“You’re in this state and you’re still trying to act tough? We’re going to the hospital!”

“To the estate.”

His expression darkened, his lips tightening into a thin line. “Yes.”

“What did you dream about?”

He paused, his deep eyes studying me for a long moment before he leaned back against the seat and closed them, as if still shaken. “I dreamed someone died. This time it was more real than before, like it was happening right in front of me.”

I blinked, recalling the fragmented words I’d heard him mutter in his sleep. He’d seemed so agitated. It must have been someone very important to him.

It reminded me of when my mother died. I wasn’t overwhelmed with grief at first, but the longer she was gone, the more the pain grew. The reality of her absence became more and more aggressive, a constant reminder that there was no ‘later.’ When I was in high school, I promised I’d grow up and earn enough money to take care of her. She would smile and ruffle my hair, calling me her silly girl. Now I could finally earn that money, but she was gone. Just before she passed, she worried constantly about my future, afraid I was too young to fend for myself. But I had just stood up to that adulterous pair. I wanted to tell her I could take care of myself now, that I finally had the strength to protect her. But she would never know. She would never see it.