Chapter 22

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"They say a good love is one that sits you down, gives you a drink of water, and pats you on top of the head. But I say a good love is one that casts you into the wind, sets you ablaze, makes you burn through the skies and ignite the night like a phoenix; the kind that cuts you loose like a wildfire and you can't stop running simply because you keep on burning everything that you touch! I say that's a good love; one that burns and flies, and you run with it!" ~C. JoyBell C.

Javier's POV

I wasn't poetic or good with words but if I was asked in that moment to explain what I felt seeing her on the floor with her gown soaked in her own blood and her arms laying limply by her side, I'd have said;

"Pain is what you feel when you stub your toe against an object, pain is what you feel when you get turned down by a crush, pain is what you feel during labour. Excruciating pain is what you feel when you're an object of experiment on a hospital bed without being pumped with anesthesia as several surgical equipments pass through you and you can do nothing but stare with your eyes wide open. But the pain from losing someone you love is no longer a feeling. You become the pain you feel. You embody everything—agony, grief, anguish, misery. You no longer feel pain as an ache in your heart, you feel it all around your body, you are now a living breathing form of pain."

"Mr Callaghan?" The nurse who's been parading the halls, shuffling between the ER and the equipments room, for over two hours called out to me. "Doctor Jaliyah will see you now."

"Thank you," I stood up and smoothened the wrinkles in my trousers, also taking advantage of the activity by wiping my sweaty palms.

I walked over to the door she pointed to and knocked. Three seconds later, I was ushered to a seat in front of the doctor. The red-haired doctor who appeared to be in her mid thirties reminded me of Rachel except that she was a shade darker. Her hair had been packed up in a high rolled bun. The sleeves of her coat had been rolled up and her eyes were narrowed as she stared at the laptop screen. She pouted her lips and tapped her finger against her chin all the while scrolling up and down with the hand on her mouse.

I distracted myself by looking round her office while she was busy on her computer. Several meritorious awards served as wall art alongside the mildly artsy painting with a vague detail. A long white-painted wooden shelf stood behind her seat filled with several books, both medical, educative and some I thought to be fiction novels. She had a fancy lamp on her desk and there was a pot housing a plant seated on her shelf. A family portrait was hung behind the door, I'm guessing just to fill up the bare wall. Several other small objects that looked ancient beautified various parts of the room.

"Hello Dr Callaghan, I'm Doctor Jaliyah, the Doctor in charge of the operation done on your wife," she started. I didn't bother correcting her about the error in our relationship status as I listened attentively to what she had to say.

"Miss Freya suffered a severe hit to the head and other body parts. The object passed through her stomach which made her lose a lot of blood in the process. Thankfully, it missed her important organs and only popped her veins. She suffered several contusions to her back, chest and arms where I'm guessing she was dealt several punches. We found strangulation marks on her neck that would take quite some time to heal and fade. The nurses would set her up with a cast to support her leg and she'll be put under intense examination to see if her condition improves."

That was a whole lot to take in that I couldn't utter any word or perform any action other than swallow the saliva that had pooled in my mouth.

"Without complications, she'll be cleared for discharge in less than a month," she further added. "She'll be okay, Mr Callaghan." A smile—not the happy excited stretch of the lips but a small curve expressing concern and comfort— spread her lips.

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