Chapter 5 - The Confrontation
Mark burst through the double doors of the ICU wing, looking appropriately frantic. He had ruffled his hair and untucked his shirt in the car, trying to construct the image of a devastated, desperate husband.
“My wife! Maya Vance, where is she?” he demanded at the nurses' station, his voice loud enough to draw stares from the medical staff.
A stern-faced head nurse looked at him over her glasses. “Room 412. But I must warn you, she is recovering from major trauma. Keep your voice down.”
Mark didn't wait. He sprinted down the hall, pushing open the heavy door to my room.
I was propped up slightly, holding a tiny, sleeping Leo against my chest. Elena stood like a sentinel at the foot of my bed.
When Mark saw me, pale and hooked up to a dozen machines, he threw his hands over his face, staging a dramatic sob.
“Maya! Oh my god, baby, I’m so sorry!” he cried, rushing toward the bed. “I didn't know! My phone died, there was no service on the mountain. I would have never left if I knew you were actually hurt!”
He reached out to touch my arm, but before his fingers could graze my skin, Elena stepped forcefully in front of him, physically blocking his path.
“Don't you dare touch her,” Elena hissed, her voice vibrating with venom.
Mark's mask slipped for a fraction of a second, his eyes flashing with annoyance, before he plastered the sorrow back on. “Elena, please, I’m her husband. This is a misunderstanding. I thought she was just having normal postpartum bleeding. You have to believe me.”
I looked at him over Leo’s small head. I didn't feel anger. I didn't feel sadness. I felt an absolute, freezing emptiness toward the man standing in front of me.
“Your phone didn't die, Mark,” I said. My voice was quiet, raspy, but it commanded the entire room.
He froze.
“I saw your story,” I continued, staring dead into his panicked eyes. “I watched you toast to your freedom with a glass of scotch while I was drowning in my own blood on the nursery floor.”
Mark swallowed hard, his face turning an ugly shade of pale. “Maya, I... I was drunk. The guys were pressuring me. It was just a joke for Instagram. I didn't mean it!”
“You told me to take an aspirin,” I reminded him, my voice entirely devoid of emotion. “You told me not to call unless the house was on fire. You stepped over me, looked in the mirror, and left.”
“Maya, please, we can fix this. I'll get you the best private nurses. I'll take a month off work. Just... let's keep this between us. Think about my firm. If this gets out...”
There it was. The truth. He wasn't worried about my near-death experience; he was terrified of his partners at the law firm finding out he was a monster.
“Get out,” I said.
“Maya, be reasonable—”
“I said get out!” I raised my voice, the monitors beside me blaring in response to my elevated heart rate.
The door flew open, and a doctor, flanked by two large hospital security guards, entered the room. The nurses had heard the commotion.
“Sir, you are distressing the patient. You need to leave immediately,” the doctor ordered.
Mark tried to stand his ground, puffing out his chest. “I am her husband. I have a legal right to be here.”
“Not anymore,” I said, looking at the security guards. “I want him removed. And I want it put in my chart that he is banned from this room, and banned from the pediatric ward. He is not allowed near me or my son.”
Mark looked at me, utterly shocked. He had always controlled the narrative. He had always bullied me into submission. He couldn't comprehend that his power over me had bled out on that cream rug.
“You're crazy,” he spat, the charming facade finally crumbling to reveal the ugly, vicious truth underneath. “You're having a postpartum psychotic break. No judge will give an unstable, hysterical woman custody of my son.”
“Take him out,” the doctor barked.
May you like
The guards grabbed Mark by the arms, dragging him backward out of the room as he cursed and threatened me. The heavy door clicked shut, cutting off his pathetic screams.
I looked down at Leo, kissing his warm, soft forehead. The war had just begun, but for the first time in my life, I was perfectly ready to fight.
