The Unwanted Wife's Return (Ex-Husband Wants Me Back) novel Chapter 155

The Space Between Heartbeats

“But nothing permanent?” Elijah pressed, his voice cracking with desperate hope. “You’re not telling me that she might never wake up, right? That’s not what you’re saying?”

Dr. Mirren leaned forward slightly, his expression earnest and reassuring. “I am telling you,” he said steadily, making sure Elijah heard every word, “that based on all her vital signs, based on her age and overall health, based on her body’s resilience and the improvements we’ve already seen, there is absolutely no indication of irreversible damage. No signs of brain damage. No indication that she won’t wake up. She simply needs time to heal. Her body is doing exactly what it should be doing.”

He offered a small, genuine smile. “She’s fighting, Mr. Martinez. She’s fighting very hard. And all the signs suggest she’s winning that fight.”

A shaky, relieved breath escaped Elijah. He felt like he could breathe properly for the first time in days. His parents visibly relaxed, some of the tension leaving their shoulders.

Dr. Mirren stood up and picked up his clipboard again. “Now, as for you,” he said, his tone becoming more businesslike. “You need rest, very serious rest. Your lungs suffered less damage than your wife’s, yes, but the strain you put on your body that night was extreme. Running through flames. Lifting burning debris. Carrying her weight while your own body was failing. The amount of smoke you inhaled. Your recovery depends entirely on you actually taking care of yourself and following medical advice.”

“I’ll take care of myself,” Elijah said firmly, his jaw set stubbornly, “right after I see her. Once I can see with my own eyes that she’s okay, then I’ll rest. Not before.”

Dr. Mirren looked like he wanted to argue, to insist that Elijah wait longer. But something in Elijah’s expression made him pause. He gave a small, understanding nod instead. “We’ll coordinate a safe visit once your vitals have stabilized a bit more. Probably by this evening if everything continues improving.”

“Thank you,” Elijah said quietly.

As Dr. Mirren left the room, closing the door softly behind him, Elijah sank deeper into his pillows. He felt exhausted, like he’d just run a marathon. His breathing was slow and trembling.

His mother reached out and stroked his hair gently, the way she used to do when he was a small child and had nightmares. “She’s alive, Elijah,” she whispered. “She’s alive and she’s healing. That’s what matters right now. Hold onto that.”

But Elijah’s eyes stayed fixed on the ceiling, staring at nothing. Hot tears slid silently from the corners of his eyes into his hairline.

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