Umaima shook her head with quick, rigid movements. “You lost a lot of blood, Adelaide. You fainted at your wedding and were out all night even when the doctor tried to wake you up. We were so fucking scared because they weren’t telling us anything.”
With that, I managed a laugh. “The doctors don’t know how to handle women with issues like mine. It would’ve been better to take me home.”
“Seriously?” She stood from the bed and paced the room with a hand on her hips. “You were lifeless, completely out on the ground in front of all those people. We were helpless because we didn’t know what the fuck happened. We care about you, Adelaide. To you, your life might seem insignificant and small—but to me, it’s everything. If you faint or scratch your fucking ankle, you bet I’m taking you to the hospital and won’t takeno’sfor an answer.”
The sterile scent of the hospital disappeared into thebackground. My fingers trembled with the quick movement of brushing away a fallen tear. It’s hard letting yourself get taken care of when it feels like a burden. Yet, Umaima’s protective tone and patience with me awakened the need to be hugged.
“Thank you,” I croaked. “For bringing me here.”
She stopped pacing, hands falling to her sides. “I never brought you here. Christian did.”
Whatever she saw on my face forced her to continue. “He was unhinged, Addie. He picked you up in his arms and ran to the hospital from the church.”
“He…What?”
She perched up on the bed. “He was a mess. Hasan called the ambulance, but he couldn’t wait. He ran five miles with you in his arms to get you here.”
Why would he do that for me?
I thought back to the morning at the graveyard, to him sitting on the wet muddy ground and talking to my parents without a care in the world. He showed himself as cold and rough and unapproachable. But deep down, Christian was made out of glass and the cracks were showing.
“Where is he?” I pulled the blanket off of me and forced myself to get up.
“Uh-uh, nope.” With a tender shove, Umaima pushed me back down. “He’s your husband now, you have all the time in the world to see him. For now, rest.”
She wore a quirky smirk like she knew exactly why I wanted to go to Christian.
“I need to see him.”
My best friend stared at me. Our eyes held a heated conversation.
She ripped the blanket off of me. “Fuck it, you only live once.”
I smiled, “Thank you.”
Although I still felt dizzy and needed to sleep in a real bed, Christian was the only thought in my mind.
I was done fighting him.
He ran five miles with me in his arms.
I’d never hated Christian, and at this moment, I realized I’d never once wanted to.
Because I really did love him.
Not the kind of love friends felt for each other, or the kind of love exes could have.
But the kind of love that was wholly unique for Christian. It simmered beneath my skin and now it overflowed.
Seven years ago, he broke my heart.
Those shattered pieces scattered across the world, and I’d been collecting them one by one—only to find out Christian carried them around in his hands.
Fingers scraped, hands bled, but he didn’t care. He held on tightly and if I’d known from the beginning it was going to be like this—I was going tofeellike this—I would have never stayed away.
If my life was a story and people read my book, they’d call me an idiot for letting myself fall for Christian again when he ruined me.
But isn’t that what love is?
