The Road Back to You

The hospital smelled like antiseptic and something too clean, too artificial. The fluorescent lights buzzed above, casting a harsh glow on the white-tiled floors. Violet sat in the waiting area, her fingers tangled together in her lap, blood staining the cuffs of her coat. Ethan's blood.

She had barely registered what happened after the sirens blared in the distance. Everything had moved in a blur—the paramedics arriving, the rush to get Ethan into the ambulance, the cold sting of fear settling deep in her chest. She had ridden with him, gripping his hand as the vehicle sped through the city streets, his face pale and still, his breaths shallow.

And now, she was here. Waiting. Heart pounding with every second that passed. Her heart clenched painfully as she glanced at her phone. She had sent Jade a message, telling him everything. He hadn't responded at first, but the moment she looked up, she saw him rushing through the hospital doors.

"Vi!" His voice was sharp with concern as he spotted her sitting in the waiting area. He strode over, his expression filled with a mixture of worry and disbelief. "What the hell happened?"

"I—I don't know everything. I was leaving work, and I just found him there. He was bleeding, Jade. A lot," Violet stood up, her arms wrapping around herself as she tried to find the words. 

"Did he say anything?" Jade cursed under his breath, running a hand through his hair. 

"No. He was barely conscious," she shook her head. 

Jade exhaled, his jaw tightening. He glanced toward the emergency room doors, then back at Violet. "Did you see what happened? How he got hurt?"

"No… I just heard something—a crash, glass shattering. And then I found him," Violet hesitated before shaking her head again. 

Jade didn't say anything for a long moment, his gaze studying her face carefully. He knew this was affecting her more than she was letting on.

"Have the doctors said anything yet?" he finally asked, his voice softer now.

"No. They're still in there with him." Violet's voice wavered slightly, and she hated how vulnerable she sounded.

"He'll be okay, Vi," Jade sighed, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

She wanted to believe that. She really did. But as she stood there in the cold, impersonal waiting room, she wasn't sure if she had the strength to face whatever came next.

The only thing she knew for certain was that Ethan was back.

And with him, every wound she had buried deep was threatening to resurface.

Violet's head snapped up, her breath catching as a nurse stood in front of her. "Are you with Mr. Sinclair?"

"Yes," her throat felt tight. 

"He's stable now. The injuries were extensive, but nothing life-threatening. A few broken ribs, a deep gash on his side from the glass, and a concussion. He's lucky," the nurse offered a small, professional smile. 

Lucky.

Violet wasn't sure if that was the right word.

"He's conscious?" she asked, voice quieter now.

"He's stable but not completely conscious. The painkillers are keeping him drowsy. You can see him, but don't stay too long," the nurse hesitated.

Violet stood up before she could think better of it, her knees shaky beneath her. She followed the nurse down a sterile hallway, her pulse thrumming loudly in her ears. The moment she stepped into the dimly lit hospital room, her breath hitched.

The steady beeping of the heart monitor filled the hospital room, a rhythmic reminder that Ethan was still here. Still breathing. Still alive.

Violet stood at the doorway, fingers curled into fists at her sides. She had spent the last few hours pacing outside, debating whether to step inside or just walk away. But now that she was here, standing inches away from him, she felt paralyzed.

Ethan looked... fragile.

Her chest tightened painfully. She had never seen him like this... unconscious, motionless, hooked up to machines. There were bruises littering his face, cuts along his arms. His knuckles were still raw from the fight, and his lip was swollen, a cruel reminder of his recklessness.

Violet exhaled sharply and stepped closer, standing by his bedside.

"You're a damn idiot, you know that?" she whispered, crossing her arms over her chest. "What the hell were you thinking, getting into a fight? Who told you to show up after all these years and make a mess of everything?"

Silence. Of course. He wasn't going to answer her.

She swallowed hard, her eyes flickering over him. The bandage wrapped around his head, the dark bruising along his cheekbone. He looked like hell, and it infuriated her.

"You disappeared. For years, you were just...gone. And now you show up out of nowhere, bleeding all over the street like some tragic hero?" Her fingers clenched into fists.

"Pathetic," she let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head. 

She wanted to be angry. She was angry. But beneath that anger was something else, something she refused to name.

Her gaze softened as it lingered on him. He looked different. The years had changed him... there were faint lines around his eyes, his features sharper, his body leaner. But he was still Ethan. The same Ethan who once made her heart race. The same Ethan who broke it.

"You could've died, you idiot," her voice trembled slightly, but she refused to let the emotion take over. 

She sat down beside him, leaning forward, pressing her elbows to her knees. For a long moment, she just stared at him, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. The silence between them felt heavier than it should have.

"You probably can't hear me. And even if you could, it's not like it would change anything," Violet swallowed hard. "But for what it's worth... I don't know what to do with you anymore," she exhaled slowly, her fingers gripping the armrest of the chair.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of her sleeves, gripping tightly. "You don't get to come back and throw everything into chaos again. You don't get to show up and get yourself nearly killed. And you sure as hell don't get to make me... "

She paused, biting down on the words before they could escape.

Make me feel like this again.

Violet's jaw clenched, and she looked away. The room felt too small, too suffocating, with all the emotions threatening to spill over.

"Wake up soon, Sinclair," she muttered. "Because when you do, I'm going to make you regret every damn thing you've done," she let out a sharp breath, standing abruptly. 

And with that, she turned and walked out, the door clicking softly shut behind her.

Violet stood outside Ethan's hospital room, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she forced herself to breathe. The door was still slightly open behind her, the sterile scent of antiseptics clinging to her clothes, but she refused to turn back.

Jade, standing beside her, shifted awkwardly. "You sure you want to leave?"

Violet's nails pressed into her skin. "He's fine. He doesn't need me here." Her voice was cold, detached. She had practiced this tone for years... now was the time to use it.

"I'll stay, then. Just in case," Jade hesitated before nodding. 

"Good," she nodded, already stepping away. 

She didn't look back. Not when she walked past the nurses' station, not when she pushed open the hospital doors, and not when the night air hit her like a slap.

As soon as she got into the taxi, her fingers curled into fists. She stared straight ahead, jaw clenched, but the images wouldn't stop flashing before her eyes... Ethan, bloodied and unconscious, collapsing into her arms. She inhaled sharply, exhaling through her nose, sitting in a taxi.

All the way she kept saying this to herself, You don't care. You can't care.