Chapter 46
Two days had passed, and while Galatea hadn’t experienced another fever, she remained unconscious. Alaric had never felt time stretch so painfully or fear grip him so tightly.
He was terrified. Terrified that Galatea might never wake up, or worse, that she would wake with amnesia or cognitive damage. It was an ordeal that made him restless, unable to find any semblance of peace. Sitting by her hospital bed, he tenderly dabbed her cracked, bleeding lips with a moistened cotton swab, carefully wiping her hands with warm water. Her hand, bruised from the IV needles, was handled with the utmost care, as he tried to avoid causing her any additional pain.
The sound of a knock startled him, and what surprised him even more was the person who entered. Cormac.
“How did you get here?” Alaric asked, a mix of surprise and confusion in his voice. How could Cormac know about Galatea’s accident and hospitalization?
“I was bored, thought I’d grab a drink with you. You weren’t at your office, and after asking Silas Moon, I found out about Galatea’s accident,” Cormac replied, glancing at Galatea’s unconscious form. “How is she doing? Is it serious?”
Alaric’s silence and the furrow of his brow gave Cormac all the answers he needed.
“That’s unfortunate,” Cormac remarked, moving closer to the bed with the intention of gently pulling back her blanket. But Alaric immediately grabbed his wrist, stopping him.
“What are you doing?” Alaric demanded, his voice sharp.
“I’m a doctor. I just want to see the extent of her injuries,” Cormac said, a hint of amusement in his tone.
“You’re a psychiatrist!” Alaric snapped.
“True,” Cormac conceded with a smirk, “But I’ve studied surgery as well. I know what I’m doing.”
“Don’t touch her!” Alaric warned fiercely, his eyes flashing with protectiveness.
Amused but also slightly frustrated, Cormac pulled his hand away. He couldn’t resist teasing, “You think so low of me? She’s injured. Do you really think I’d take advantage of her?”
Alaric remained silent, his jaw clenched, which prompted Cormac to back off, sensing the seriousness of the situation.
“You’re really smitten, huh?” Cormac observed, glancing at Alaric’s anxious expression. “Those dark circles under your eyes… you haven’t slept in days, right?”
Alaric didn’t respond, but the exhaustion was evident in the way he held himself.
“Alright, no more jokes,” Cormac said, his tone turning serious. “It looks like she’s been hit hard. Take good care of her. People who go through unexpected trauma can become emotional and prone to outbursts, so be extra patient with her.”
“No need to remind me,” Alaric replied curtly. “Keep the news of Galatea’s accident from Caspian. Understand?”
“Got it,” Cormac said with a nod. He gave one last glance at Galatea before turning to Alaric. “Take care of her, and call me if you need anything.”
Alaric didn’t speak, his attention entirely focused on Galatea.
After Cormac left, Alaric let out a heavy sigh. Hesitantly, he continued to sit by Galatea’s side. His voice soft, almost a whisper, he spoke to her, “Galatea, can you hear me? If you can, try to wake up. Think about your two kids. They’re both waiting for you.”
Another sleepless night passed. After three long, restless nights, Alaric was barely holding on. Just before dawn, exhaustion finally took its toll. He slumped over the edge of the bed, his head resting against the side, and dozed off.
He didn’t know how long he had been asleep, but the slightest stir from the bed jolted him awake. He looked at Galatea, her body twitching in discomfort, her features contorted as if in pain.
Finally, her eyes fluttered open, but she looked as if she was in pure agony. Alaric’s heart raced.
“What’s wrong?” he asked urgently, leaning closer.
As soon as he spoke, Galatea began to heave, trying to prop herself up to vomit. But any movement made the pain worse. “Don’t move,” Alaric urged, gently trying to hold her still. “You’re covered in injuries.”
Galatea, weakened and drained from days without food, had nothing to expel. Her body was wracked with dry heaving, and the pain she was in was unbearable.
Alaric quickly called for a doctor, who rushed in to examine her. As she settled, Galatea managed to whisper, “My head hurts so much.”
It was a splitting headache that had woken her, a pain so intense it felt like her head might explode. Every part of her body seemed to ache, as though thousands of insects were gnawing at her wounds. The agony was unbearable, a torture worse than death.
Alaric turned to the doctor in panic. “Why does her head hurt so badly? Is it related to her head injury?”
The doctor nodded. “Yes. We’ve administered a painkiller, but it’ll take some time for it to take effect. She’ll have to endure the pain for now.”
The doctor then added, “Make sure she stays still. Don’t let her move around too much, and definitely keep her from touching her wounds to avoid infection.”
“Okay,” Alaric replied hastily, nodding.
Since the car accident, Galatea’s mind had been in a dormant state. She didn’t know when it began, but her subconscious thoughts flashed through her mind like a movie—painful memories that caused more agony. The pain wasn’t just physical. It was heart-wrenching, but she couldn’t open her eyes, couldn’t cry out, or even move.
A voice inside her seemed to say incessantly, “Mom, Dad, I’m coming to find you.”
Her eyes had opened, but her consciousness couldn’t distinguish between hallucinations and reality.
Alaric, his voice gentle yet filled with concern, whispered, “Galatea, don’t move. Just hold on a little longer. The medicine will kick in soon, and the pain will subside.”
He held her hands carefully, mindful of the numerous needle marks on the back of them. Leaning over, he embraced her lightly, talking to her softly, trying to soothe her.
After a while, Alaric, drenched in sweat from anxiety, felt Galatea’s struggle ease. She, too, was covered in sweat, breathing heavily, her breaths ragged.
“How are you feeling? Is the pain lessening?” Alaric asked, his voice thick with concern.
Galatea’s eyes were distant, empty as they met his. A fresh wave of fear washed over him. Has she lost her memory? Is her cognitive function affected?
“Galatea, don’t scare me. Tell me, who am I? What’s my name?”
Galatea stared at him for a long moment, her gaze blank. Finally, she murmured weakly, “Alaric.”
Relief flooded Alaric’s chest. Hearing her recall his name was a good sign.
“Galatea, you’re covered in injuries and weak. Don’t talk right now. Just rest. If you feel any discomfort, let me know.”
As the painkiller began to take effect, her physical pain slowly eased, and her consciousness cleared bit by bit. She remembered being on her way to Nexus Innovations when the accident occurred. But beyond that, everything else was a blur. Who brought her to the hospital? What happened after? Why was Alaric here? All of it was a mystery.