Chapter 128
Relief hit me like a wave, so strong it nearly knocked me out of my chair. Christian was awake. His eyes-still hazy from medication and confusion-were open and fixed on me. He was alive, conscious, talking.
“Christian,” I breathed, my voice breaking as tears spilled down my cheeks. “Thank God you’re okay.”
He blinked slowly, trying to focus, and shifted slightly on the bed. A grimace of pain flickered across his face.
“Easy,” I said quickly, moving closer. “You just had surgery. Don’t try to move too much.”
“You…” His voice was raw, probably from the breathing tube they’d taken out. “You’re here.”
Something about the way he said it with half disbelief and half relief hit me hard. Maybe he hadn’t expected to see me. After all, the last time we were in the same room, it had ended in shouting and heartbreak. I’d accused him of not trusting me, and he’d walked out believing I’d betrayed him.
I froze beside his bed, suddenly unsure. I wanted nothing more than to wrap my arms around him, to feel that he was really here, really alive. But did I still have that right? What if he didn’t want me here?
“I…” My voice faltered. “I didn’t know if you’d want to see me.”
Christian frowned, confusion clouding his face.
“Why wouldn’t I…?” He stopped mid-sentence, and I saw the realization dawn in his eyes. His expression shifted, memories slotting back into place. “The fight. The wine bottles.”
“Yeah,” I whispered, staring down at the floor. “I’d understand if you didn’t want-”
Before I could finish, I saw him try to lift his arms toward me. The movement was slow and obviously painful, but the intent was clear. He wanted to hold me.
I didn’t hesitate this time. I leaned down carefully, curling into his arms, mindful of his injuries. His embrace was weak but real, and the moment I felt it, everything inside me broke.
“I thought I lost you,” I sobbed against his shoulder. “When Annie told me about the accident, I thought… I thought you were gone.”
“Hey,” he murmured, his fingers brushing through my hair in gentle, uneven strokes. “I’m here. I’m okay. And you… You’re pregnant? We’re…?”
“I didn’t want you to find out like this,” I cried, all the words I’d practiced tumbling out at once. “About the baby. I had a dinner planned, candles, everything. I wanted it to be special-”
“And I stormed out like a complete idiot,” Christian finished, his voice rough with guilt.
I pulled back just enough to look at him, searching his eyes for any trace of anger or blame. But there was none- only love, regret, and something softer that made my chest ache.
“You remember?” I asked carefully. “Everything that happened?”
“I remember all of it,” he said quietly, his hand lifting to brush a tear from my cheek. “And I remember how horribly I treated you. How could I ever doubt you after everything we’ve been through?”
“Christian…”
“No, Zoey, please. Let me say this.” He took a deep, steadying breath, his voice trembling with emotion. “When I saw that car coming at me, when I realized I couldn’t stop it… all I could think was that I couldn’t die without

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