Chapter 12
626words
Everything freaking hurt.
Sweat stuck to her forehead, but the real pain? That was in her chest.
She was still alive.
Maybe her mom hated her that much—didn't even want her dead enough to join her.
Hailey broke down, sobbing so hard it felt like her ribs were splintering.
The door creaked.
Someone walked in.
"You're still really weak. Multiple fractures, tons of internal bleeding. Honestly, it's a miracle you're alive."
Total stranger. Hailey blinked, dazed, trying to lift her head.
Pain shot up her neck. She flinched.
"You can't move yet, but there's something you should know. When you fell, branches tore up your face—deep cuts. The doc says you'll need surgery, like, soon. Since it's your face, I didn't wanna choose for you."
It took forever for Hailey to get a whisper out.
"Is it... that bad?"
Her lungs felt like they were tearing with every breath.
The guy leaned in, and for the first time, she saw his face.
He studied hers for a second, then said, low, "Very bad."
She asked for a mirror.
One look, and there it was—her face, buried under layers of gauze.
She just stared. Didn't say a word.
The guy must've thought she was in shock. He fumbled for something comforting.
"You're lucky to be alive. That's what counts."
Hailey looked away. Her tears were gone.
She couldn't live. Couldn't die either.
Even heaven didn't want her.
The only finger she could move curled around the edge of the blanket.
"You're right. Dying's not the only way out."
She stared up at the ceiling, hate crawling up her spine.
Why should she be the one to die?
She wasn't the one who deserved it.
***
The rescue team scoured the mountain for almost a month before calling it quits.
Peter stood behind the glass door, watching Nolan drown in paperwork, something tight pressing in his chest.
They never found Hailey's body. But with the height of that drop and how rough the terrain was, survival? Basically zero.
Worse—wild animals were known to roam that area.
When Nolan heard, he tore apart the hospital room. Total meltdown.
No one tried to stop him. No one even got close.
They just waited it out in the hallway.
That night, Nolan got discharged and went straight home.
He shut himself in, ghosted everyone. Calls, texts—ignored.
The company spiraled. Peter had to take over just to keep it from burning down.
Eventually, he couldn't take it. He went to check on Nolan.
What he found was brutal—Nolan had barricaded the door, floor littered with empty liquor bottles that crunched under Peter's shoes like broken glass.
Nolan was on the floor, barely conscious.
He'd drunk himself into gastric bleeding. Even in the ambulance, he wouldn't let go of a red silk ribbon clenched in his fist.
"Just shove him in like this," Peter muttered.
He sighed, eyes dropping to those pale, stubborn hands.
"Is it really just hate you feel for her?"
Please.
Anyone could see it.
Nolan was in love with Hailey. The kind of love that wrecks you.
He dropped over twenty pounds in a month. His face sharpened, eyes turned ice-cold—like he'd frozen from the inside out.
But the part no one saw coming?
After he got out, Nolan never mentioned her again.
Like she was a ghost. Like she'd never even existed.
He jumped back into work, led meetings, closed major deals. The company bounced back fast.
People whispered, "Guess heartbreak only lasts a month."
Peter stayed quiet.
He just stared at Nolan at the head of the table—ghost-pale, brow stuck in that permanent scowl.
Got over it?
Then why did it look like he was still sinking?
