Ruined With Me

CHAPTER 45

“Stella, I won’t talk to you if you even think about leaving me.” I whispered softly, my voice trembling despite the firmness of my words. She looked at me, her eyes half-open, struggling to stay conscious, to stay with me.

She opened her mouth to say something, but I could see how much it hurt her. The pain was etched into every line of her face, and it was unbearable to witness. I gently placed my finger against her lips, silencing her.

“We’ll talk after your operation, hmm?” I said, trying to reassure her, even though I was the one who needed reassurance. I squeezed her hand tighter, trying to anchor myself, as if holding onto her could stop everything from falling apart.

“Alan, where the hell is the doctor?” My voice cracked with desperation as I turned to the door. It had only been four minutes since we’d arrived, but each second felt like a lifetime.

“They’re coming—”

“Please, all of you leave the OT room.” Before Alan could finish, the doctor finally walked in, her voice commanding. I hesitated. I didn’t want to leave her, not even for a second. But I knew I had to.

I slowly stood up, ready to follow the doctor’s orders, but Stella wouldn’t let go of my hand. Her grip was weak, trembling, but the message was clear—she didn’t want me to leave her side.

“Stella, I’m not going anywhere.” I whispered, my heart breaking at the sight of her tears. I bent down, my lips brushing her forehead.

It took everything in her to let go of my hand. It felt like she was holding onto me for dear life, and I hated that I had to pull away.

As I left the room, I collapsed onto the floor, my legs giving out from under me. I couldn’t hold it together anymore.The weight of everything—her pain, her fear, my own helplessness—crushed me.

I looked up at Andre, who was holding Ivaan. The sight of our son, sleeping so peacefully, was such a stark contrast to the chaos around us.

“I’ve never seen her this angry.” I murmured, more to myself than anyone else. The image of her eyes, blazing with something far more intense than anger, haunted me. It wasn’t just anger—it was hate.

“She burned all of Bella’s memories out of hatred, not because she was angry.” I whispered, staring at my hands, still stained with Stella’s blood.

“Alexander, let it go. This isn’t the time to dwell on that.” I whispered to myself, forcing myself to stand and glance back through the glass at the operating room. But everything was a blur, my vision clouded by unshaded tears.

Before I could compose myself, a sharp pain exploded across my jaw. Someone had punched me. I looked up, blinking in shock, only to see Stella’s father standing there, his face twisted with rage.

“What was that for?” I managed to ask, rubbing my jaw. But before he could hit me again, I caught his hand. I wasn’t angry—just exhausted. I lowered his hand gently, hoping to calm him down.