Bound To The Broken Alpha (Amy and Daniel) novel Chapter 43

**Chapter 43: You Are My Wife**

**CLARA**

The moment I blinked awake, a stark white ceiling greeted me, an expanse that felt both sterile and oppressive. A bright light hung directly above, casting an almost harsh glow that made my surroundings feel clinical. The unmistakable scent of antiseptic filled the air, mingling with the faint whir of machines, and I could feel a cold sensation creeping into my arm—an IV, I realized. My head felt heavy, as if it were filled with cotton, and for a few disorienting seconds, I couldn’t quite grasp where I was.

Then, the soft, rhythmic beeping of a monitor broke through the haze, grounding me in the moment. I turned my head with effort, and there he was: Mark. He was slumped in a chair beside my bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his gaze fixed on the floor as if it held all the answers to the universe. He looked utterly drained, his shirt wrinkled and his hair tousled, a clear indication that sleep had eluded him.

A flicker of warmth ignited in my chest, and a small smile tugged at my lips. “You stayed,” I whispered, the words feeling fragile in the air.

His head snapped up, surprise mingling with relief on his face, but it quickly morphed into a faint smile. “You scared me,” he replied softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You just… fell down.”

“I didn’t mean to,” I murmured, my voice weak and raspy. “What did the doctor say?”

He hesitated, the weight of his words palpable in the air. “He said things were worse,” he finally admitted, his gaze drifting away for a moment. “They’re keeping you here until they figure out how to stabilize things.”

I nodded slowly, the news settling over me like a heavy blanket. It wasn’t a surprise; deep down, I had sensed for some time that my body was losing this battle. I just hadn’t wanted to face that truth.

Mark stood up, moving to pour some water into a cup. “You should try to drink a little,” he urged gently, his voice steadying as he approached me.

I reached for the cup, and he held it steady, our hands brushing against each other. His touch was warm and reassuring, a brief reminder of simpler times when everything felt uncomplicated. But that fleeting comfort dissipated quickly as I sensed an underlying tension radiating from him.

He settled back into his chair, but his eyes were no longer on me. Instead, they wandered to the soft glow of a nightlight across the room. I could see the way his jaw clenched, as if he were lost in thought, wrestling with something he couldn’t quite articulate.

“You’re awfully quiet,” I said, breaking the silence. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” he replied too quickly, the word hanging in the air.

“Don’t lie to me,” I insisted, my eyes narrowing as I studied him.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as if trying to ease the tension there. “I’m just tired. It’s been a long night.”

I scrutinized him closely, searching for the truth in his eyes. “You mean you’re tired of being here. With me.”

His brows knitted together in confusion. “That’s not what I said.”

“You didn’t have to say it,” I countered, my voice steady. “I can tell.”

He leaned back in the chair, a hint of frustration creeping into his posture. “Clara, please. Let’s not start an argument. You just woke up.”

His tone, though gentle, felt distant, and it twisted something deep within me. I recognized that tone; it was the same one he used when he wanted to avoid a conversation that made him uncomfortable.

“You’ve been thinking about her,” I said quietly, my heart racing.

He looked up, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. “Who?”

“You know who,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. “Amy.”

He paused, the air thick with unspoken words. “This again?” he finally said, his voice edged with exhaustion.

I turned my head away, the weight of the truth pressing down on me. “You called her yesterday. I heard you before I fainted. You still care.”

“She was being attacked online,” he defended, his tone defensive. “I called to make sure she was okay. That’s all.”

A small laugh escaped my lips, though it came out more like a cough. “You expect me to believe that? You’ve always been soft when it comes to her.”

His silence spoke volumes, and a dull ache blossomed in my chest, a mixture of illness and the painful realization that I was right.

“Do you regret it?” I asked, my voice trembling.

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