Chapter 318

Melanie woke up with a snap, her eyes flying open from complete darkness to blinding white in less than a second. She stared up at the ceiling, breath shallow, body rigid. Her eyes darted left, then right, trying to make sense of where she was. But everything around her looked pale, plain and sterile.
Then she shut her eyes again, the harsh light above her too much to bear. Her heart thudded unevenly as the confusion set in. What was happening? Had she woken up in a hospital? Again?
With her eyes closed, she tried to recall if she’d had another panic attack or something but she could hardly concentrate on that… There was something cold beneath her back. Her fingers twitched slightly against starched sheets. She took another breath and winced. Her chest felt tight. Her ribs ached. Her nose… her nose felt like it had collided with a brick wall.
“Did she really have another panic attack?” That thought came uninvited, floating up from old memories. But no, this wasn’t like before. This feeling was different…The sinking feeling, the trembling limbs, the sensation of drowning without water.
But this time… she remembered nothing. Until she did.
Her heart skipped a beat.
It hit her all at once—the image of the road rushing past the window, the car in front of them slamming its brakes, the world jerking forward in violent motion. The deafening sound of impact. The airbag exploding in her face like a punch from nowhere. That blinding flash of white, the sting in her eyes, the way her head had snapped back. Melody screaming. Hands grabbing as she was dragged out of the car by passers by.. The taste of blood in her mouth.
Her breathing hitched, and her fingers curled into the sheets.
She breathed in slowly, deliberately, grounding herself in the present moment. She was alive. That much was certain. And the beeping in the distance—the faint hum of machines—confirmed what she suspected.
She was in a hospital. Again.
A grimace twisted her face as she exhaled. Her nose definitely bore the brunt of the collision. Every breath felt like it scraped against bruised cartilage. Her face was sore, her body stiff, her arms heavy. But she was awake.
Her first thought was Adam. He’d have been worried sick.
She parted her lips, trying to call out his name, though her throat was dry and her voice cracked before it could form properly. She didn’t even manage a full syllable.
But before she could try again, a cool sensation brushed against her lips. A moment later, water touched her mouth. She blinked in surprise, and a faint smile ghosted across her face. Adam had already expected that she would be thirsting.
Gratefully, she opened her mouth, allowing the rim of a straw to slide in. The water was lukewarm but soothing, running down her dry throat like relief itself. She sipped slowly, savouring it despite the dull pain in her neck each time she swallowed. Her free hand shifted slightly across the blanket, searching for him.
A hand slipped into hers and she smiled slowly as their fingers interlaced gently, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand in slow, soothing circles.
Melanie smiled faintly. Of course. Adam. Who else would sit there silently and wait for her to wake, already ready with water, already offering reassurance with just his presence?
She took another slow sip of the water, swallowing carefully. Her neck still ached, and her throat felt like sandpaper, but the relief of hydration was enough to keep her calm. Her hand twitched slightly under his, and she almost laughed—a dry, cracked breath escaping her lips—as the thought came to her:
“Here we go again, Adam. Back in the hospital.”
She was about to whisper it, maybe even tease him gently about how he always ended up holding her hand in sterile rooms like this.
But then she froze.
Something was wrong.
The fingers wrapped around hers were longer. The palm too broad. The scent in the air wasn’t Adam’s. And now that her mind was a little clearer, the touch didn’t feel comforting anymore—it felt wrong. Strangely intimate, but unfamiliar.
She tried to pull her hand back.
But the hand didn’t let go.
Her heart jumped, and alarm flickered through her. She gave a firmer tug, but the grip only tightened, not painfully, but firmly enough to stop her movement. The smile vanished from her lips as cold awareness settled in.
This wasn’t Adam.
Her eyes snapped open.
A stranger was sitting beside her, far too close, his features calm and composed, his eyes locked on her with a look that was meant to be reassuring but sent a ripple of dread down her spine. His other hand rested casually on the edge of the bed, just beside her, as if it belonged there. As if he had every right to be there.
She jerked her hand again, trying her best to pull her hand out of his grasp. But the man didn’t flinch, nor did he let go of her hand. “Mel… Mel, you need to calm down. You’re not allowed to talk for now. Don’t panic. You’ll hurt yourself.”
She tried to make a sound, anything to alert someone, but all that came out was a strained croak. Her throat wasn’t cooperating, her body too sluggish to respond quickly. Her legs shifted under the sheets, but even her attempt to move felt like swimming through wet sand. She writhed slightly in place, her panic rising.
The man pressed a hand gently but firmly to her shoulder, keeping her still. “You were injured. You’re in recovery. Please don’t move. And please don’t try to speak. The doctor said any strain could make things worse. Calm down, Mel.”
But she wasn’t listening anymore. She wanted to scream. Her breathing grew sharp and erratic, and her hand flailed weakly as she tried again to pull away from him. Her gaze darted around the room—desperate for a nurse, a doctor, anyone—as the beeping of the heart monitor behind her suddenly accelerated.
The machines reacted almost instantly. The steady, calming rhythm turned erratic-sharp, fast blips echoing through the room. Alarms sounded. Panic laced every second now.
“Doctor!” the man called out, raising his voice just enough to be heard over the rising monitor. “Doctor, something’s wrong!”
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