3rd Person POV

Elizabeth’s hands trembled as she pressed the phone against her ear. The voice on the other end was calm—too calm—as it repeated the words she couldn’t make sense of. Words like accident and critical condition. Words that left her frozen in the middle of her kitchen, staring blankly at the half-made sandwich she’d been preparing for William’s lunch.

“Ma’am? Did you hear me?”

Her breath hitched. “Y-Yes. I heard you.”

Her husband. That’s what they had called him. She didn’t correct them. There was no time for explanations. No time to clarify that Y/N wasn’t really her husband—at least, not legally. He was William’s father. He was the man she had spent nights arguing with and mornings regretting those arguments. He was the man who loved her even when she pushed him away.

And now he was fighting for his life.

She didn’t remember driving to the hospital. Her hands still shook as she stepped out of the car and rushed through the double doors, barely acknowledging the receptionist who directed her to the Intensive Care Unit.

Elizabeth froze when she saw him through the glass window. Tubes ran across his face and arms, wires snaking out from beneath the white sheets. His head was bandaged, and bruises marred his skin, turning it shades of purple and blue.

She staggered back.

No.

This wasn’t him. It couldn’t be.

But it was.

Her knees threatened to buckle, and she gripped the wall for support. Memories flashed through her mind—his laugh, the way he used to hold her after a fight, the way he would pick William up and spin him around until their son screamed with laughter.

The nurse touched her shoulder, gentle but firm. “He’s stable for now.”

For now.

Elizabeth leaned over him once she was allowed in, her fingers brushing against his cold hand. “I’m here,” she whispered, though she wasn’t sure if he could hear her. “I’m here, Y/N. I—I didn’t mean to push you away.” Her voice broke, and the tears finally fell.

Hours bled together. She stayed by his side, only leaving when her mother arrived with William.

“Mommy?” William tugged on her sleeve, his E/C eyes wide and fearful.

She dropped to her knees and pulled him into her arms. “Daddy’s resting, sweetheart . He’s—he’s very tired, but he’s fighting to get better.”

His little arms wrapped tightly around her neck. “I don’t want him to be sick.”

Elizabeth swallowed the lump in her throat. “Me neither.”

To distract him, her mother brought them to the playroom, but even as she tried to focus on her son’s laughter, her mind was trapped in that sterile hospital room, haunted by the beep of monitors. She kept glancing at the clock. It was taking too long.

Finally, the doctor arrived. His face gave her the answer before he spoke.

“Miss Olsen?”

She stood, gripping William’s hand tightly. “Yes?”

“Can I speak to you privately?”

Her mother stepped in, leading William away. “Come on, honey. Let’s draw something for Daddy, okay?”

Elizabeth’s feet felt like lead as she followed the doctor down the hall.

She saw the empty bed before he even said the words.

“I’m sorry.”

Her breath vanished. The world tilted. “No.”

She shook her head, stepping back, clutching the doorframe as though it would hold her together. “No, no, no—”

But the bed remained empty.

Her knees hit the floor, and the sound that escaped her throat didn’t feel like her own.

She sobbed until her chest ached, her tears falling onto the cold linoleum. She thought of all the times she could’ve told him she loved him and didn’t. All the times she turned away instead of reaching for him.

And now he was gone.

William’s voice echoed down the hall, but her mother stopped him from entering the room. Elizabeth pressed her hand against the wall, trying to catch her breath.

She had failed him.

And now all she had left of him was the boy who waited for her outside.