Slowly, he turned. The fury in his eyes softened by the smallest fraction when they met hers. He stepped closer—just enough to invade her space—and looked straight into her eyes.
“Why didn’t you hit my car?” he demanded, his voice low and cutting. “Do you hate me that much?” His jaw tightened. “So fucking much that you’d rather die than take my help?”
Mia flinched.
His voice wasn’t raised, but it carried something far more dangerous—hurt laced with fear, raw and unfiltered, burning straight through her chest.
She swallowed, her throat tight.
“I didn’t want to hurt you,” she said quietly. “No matter what… I didn’t want you to get injured.”
Her fingers curled tighter around his hand.
“I couldn’t do it.”
Something flickered in Alexander’s eyes.
The rigid tension locked in his body slowly drained away. His shoulders loosened, his breath hitching once—then, before she could react, he yanked her toward him.
Her body slammed into his chest.
His arms wrapped around her brutally tight, crushing her against him. Her face pressed into his shirt as he held her like he was terrified she might vanish if he let go for even a second.
His voice broke against her ear.
“There is nothing more important to me than you,” he whispered hoarsely. “Don’t ever fucking do that again. Let me save you.” His grip tightened. “I’m your husband. That was my duty.”
Mia froze.
Her fingers dug into his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt. His words hit too deep, too hard. Her body betrayed her, her hold tightening around him without thought.
She pulled back slightly, lifting her face to look at him. Her lashes trembled as she swallowed.
“Alexander…” she said quietly. Her voice was soft, hesitant. “I forgive you—for lying to me.”
Alexander’s body went completely still.
The tension in his arms locked as if something inside him had snapped. Slowly, he pulled away from the hug and stared down at her. Shock crossed his face—raw and unguarded—his breath catching as if he hadn’t expected those words at all. Hishand lifted instinctively toward her face, fingers trembling, lips parting.
“Mia—”
She caught his wrist before his hand could reach her. Her grip was gentle but firm as she pushed his hand down.
She met his eyes then. Her expression was calm but there was a chill in it that made his chest tighten.
“I forgive you,” she repeated softly. “But Mr. Graves…” Her fingers loosened from his wrist as she stepped back half a pace. “I still won’t trust you again.”
The words struck him harder than any slap ever could.
Something dark flickered across his face as realization sank in. His shoulders stiffened. Whatever hope had surfaced moments ago died quietly in his eyes.
She didn’t look at him anymore.
“Please don’t leave the hospital,” she said quietly, her voice stripped of emotion. “You need to be treated.”
Then she stepped back fully.
Turned around.
