SCORNED EX WIFE Queen Of Ashes (Camille and Stefan) novel Chapter 172

Chapter 172

The ICU hallway stretched before Camille, sterile and bright. Her footsteps echoed against the tile floor as she followed the doctor. The smell of antiseptic filled her nose, making her eyes water, or perhaps it was the weight of what waited ahead.

"Five minutes," the doctor reminded her, pausing outside a door. "He's very weak."

Camille nodded, her throat too tight for words.

The doctor pushed the door open, revealing a small room filled with machines. Their steady beeping cut through the silence, marking each beat of Stefan's heart. He lay still in the center of it all, nearly lost among tubes and wires. His skin looked gray against the white sheets, but his eyes were open, alert and watching for her.

"I'll be right outside," the doctor said, and then she was alone with the man who had once been her husband. The man who had betrayed her. The man who had taken a bullet meant for her.

Camille approached the bed slowly. Stefan's shoulder was heavily bandaged, the white gauze stark against his hospital gown. An IV dripped clear fluid into his arm. A monitor tracked his heartbeat in jagged green lines.

"Hey," she said, her voice barely audible.

Stefan's lips curved into a weak smile. "Hey yourself." His words came out raspy, as if speaking required great effort.

Camille moved closer, standing awkwardly beside the bed. She had imagined this moment during the long wait, rehearsed what to say, but now words failed her.

"You look terrible," she said finally, then winced at her own bluntness.

Stefan's smile widened slightly. "You should see the other guy."

The weak joke broke something inside her. Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks before she could stop them.

"Don't," Stefan whispered. "Please don't cry, Camille."

She wiped her face with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry. It's just... you almost died. Because of me."

"For you," he corrected. "Not because of you. There's a difference."

Camille sank into the chair beside his bed, suddenly unable to stand. "Thank you," she said, the words feeling terribly inadequate. "For saving my life."

Stefan's eyes held hers, more serious than she'd ever seen them. "It's what I should have done all along. Protected you. Instead of hurting you."

His gaze was too direct, too honest. Camille looked down at her hands. They still had blood beneath the fingernails, his blood, from when she'd pressed against his wound.

"Why did you do it?" she asked. "You could have stayed behind cover."

Stefan was quiet for so long that Camille looked up, worried he'd lost consciousness. But he was watching her, his eyes clear despite the pain medication.

"I wanted to make something right," he said finally. "Just one thing."

The monitor beeped steadily between them, counting heartbeats, counting seconds.

"I never deserved you," he continued, each word coming with visible effort. "Not when we were married. Not when you trusted me." He paused, drawing a labored breath. "But in that moment, when I saw the gun... I finally understood what mattered."

Camille felt fresh tears gathering. She fought them back, knowing he needed her strength now, not her sorrow.

"You don't owe me your life, Stefan."

"I owe you the truth," he countered. "And the truth is, I was a coward. I let Rose manipulate me because it was easier than being the man you needed."

He reached for her hand. His fingers felt cold against hers, his grip weak but insistent.

"Camille," he said, her name barely a breath. "I need to ask you something. And you can say no. You've earned that right a thousand times over."

She waited, afraid of what would come next.

"Can you forgive me?" His voice broke on the last word. "Not for my sake. For yours. So you can be free of what I did."

The question hung between them, heavy as stone. Camille looked at their joined hands, once they had worn matching rings, made promises they thought would last forever. Now there was only skin against skin, fragile and temporary.

"But she didn't. You survived. You built something new."

Camille nodded, unable to deny it. The woman she'd been when married to Stefan, trusting, naive, desperate for approval was gone. In her place stood someone forged in fire, tested and true.

"We both did," she said, looking at him with new eyes. The selfish, weak man who had betrayed her had become someone willing to die for her. People could change. She was living proof of that.

Stefan's eyelids drooped, his body finally surrendering to exhaustion and medication. "I'm glad... we had this chance," he murmured, his words slurring slightly. "To say goodbye properly."

Camille's chest tightened. "This isn't goodbye. You're going to recover."

"Sure," he agreed, too quickly, "but things will be different. As they should be." He forced his eyes open, fixing her with one last clear look. "Be happy, Camille. Build something wonderful. You deserve that."

She felt the walls around her heart, walls she hadn't even realized were still standing begin to crumble. Not in the devastating way of her first heartbreak, but gently, like snow melting in spring.

"So do you, Stefan," she said, meaning it. "Find your own happiness."

He smiled faintly, his eyes drifting closed. "Already did... doing the right thing... finally..."

His breathing deepened as sleep claimed him. Camille sat there a moment longer, still holding his hand, feeling the steady pulse beneath her fingers.

The hate she had nursed for so long was gone, dissolved in the truth of his sacrifice. The pain of betrayal had faded into something like wisdom. And the bitter taste of regret had been washed away by simple gratitude, for second chances, for growth, for the possibility of redemption.

Gently, she placed his hand back on the bed. She stood, looking down at him one last time. The man she had once loved. The man who had hurt her beyond measure. The man who had finally, in one selfless moment, become someone worthy of respect.

"Goodbye, Stefan," she whispered.

As she turned to leave, Camille felt something lift from her shoulders, a weight she had carried so long she'd forgotten it was there. She walked toward the door with lighter steps, toward the future waiting beyond.

In the hallway, her unlikely family waited, Alexander with his steady strength, Victoria with her fierce wisdom, her parents with their humble hope for reconciliation.

For the first time in years, Camille moved forward carrying only what she chose to bring, leaving the rest behind. Not forgotten, but transformed.