The Space Between

Chapter 8: Fractured paths

Melanie's parents gently guided her into the emergency room, her mother taking the lead at the front desk.

"Excuse me, we're here for Dominic Sinclair. This is his wife," Georgia said, motioning toward Melanie. "And I'm his mother-in-law."

The woman behind the desk barely glanced up, her fingers still tapping at the keyboard.

"Could you tell us where to go, please?" Georgia pressed, her voice polite but firm.

"He's in surgery right now," the receptionist replied, indifferent. "You can either wait out here or by the surgical center. It's down this hall, then to the left—you'll see the signs."

Harold touched Melanie's shoulder, his expression full of concern. "Do you want us to come with you, Melly?"

Melanie shook her head. "No, I'll be okay. Thank you. Just... please don't leave. I don't know if I want to stay."

Georgia placed a reassuring hand on her arm. "We're not going anywhere, sweetheart. I already see Harold eyeing the vending machines," she added with a small smile, trying to lift the weight of the moment.

Melanie gave a weak, fleeting laugh, but it vanished as quickly as it came. She turned toward the hallway, her footsteps slow and heavy, as if each step carried the full burden of the night's events.

As she moved down the corridor, everything around her blurred—voices became distant, footsteps muffled, and her thoughts swirled in fragments she couldn't grasp. It felt like walking underwater, the air thick and suffocating.

Just as she neared the corner leading to the surgical waiting area, a familiar voice pierced through the fog.

"MEL!"

Melanie turned, startled, just as Nova rushed toward her, wrapping her in a fierce hug.

"Oh my God, Melanie, I am so sorry," Nova said breathlessly, gripping her tight. "We came as fast as we could. How's Dom? How are you?"

The weight of Nova's words hit her hard, and for a second, Melanie didn't know how to respond. All she could do was stand there, caught between the comfort of her friend's embrace and the crushing uncertainty of what came next.

They sat outside the surgical ward for what felt like an eternity, the minutes stretching thin between bursts of silence and shallow conversation. Melanie fidgeted with the hem of her sweater, stealing glances at the clock that seemed frozen in place. Nicholas, Dominic's father, had joined them about fifteen minutes earlier, his presence stiff and heavy with unspoken worry. No one knew what to say, so they waited in tense quiet, their breaths shallow and minds restless.

Then, almost without warning, the door to the surgical wing opened, and a man in scrubs appeared.

"Hello," the doctor said, offering a tired but professional smile. "I'm Dr. Gregory. I performed Mr. Sinclair's surgery tonight. May I speak with immediate family in private?"

Melanie and Nicholas rose in unison, exchanging a brief glance, and followed the doctor into a small consultation room just off the waiting area. The walls were a dull gray, the fluorescent lights overhead too bright, casting harsh shadows on the doctor's face.

"I'm sure Dominic would be grateful to have you both here," Dr. Gregory began, folding his hands together. His gaze landed on Melanie. "You must be his wife?"

"Yes," Melanie replied, her voice unsteady, her heart pounding in her chest.

The doctor gave a small, sympathetic smile. "He was very adamant that you be contacted first. He seemed quite worried about you."

Melanie's breath hitched. She wasn't sure what to make of that. Was this another attempt by Dominic to manipulate her, even from a hospital bed? Guilt began to swirl inside her, but she pushed the thought down, focusing on what the doctor was saying.

"The surgery went well," Dr. Gregory continued, his tone measured and calm. "However, Dominic sustained significant injuries to both of his legs and lower back. The damage was severe."

Nicholas, standing beside her, took in a sharp breath. His jaw clenched as he tried to keep his emotions in check, but Melanie could see the glimmer of unshed tears in his reddened eyes.

The doctor paused, as if to let the weight of the news sink in, then added, "He'll need to spend several months in physical therapy. Learning how to walk again will be difficult, but it's possible—with time and effort."

Nicholas's composure finally shattered. Tears streamed down his face as he choked out, "Walk again? What do you mean, walk again?" His voice cracked, thick with disbelief and sorrow.

Melanie felt a knot tighten in her chest as she glanced between Nicholas and Dr. Gregory, hoping for some reassurance, some sign that things wouldn't be as grim as they sounded.

"I know it's difficult to hear," Dr. Gregory said softly, "but the good news is that Dominic is alive. We almost lost him during the operation. He's lucky to be here at all."

A soft knock at the door interrupted them, and a nurse peeked in, hesitant. "Excuse me, Doctor. Mr. Sinclair has been moved to his room. Visitors are welcome now."

"Thank you, Rebecca," Dr. Gregory said, his voice a little gentler this time. He turned back to Melanie and Nicholas, his expression serious but encouraging. "He's stable now. Let me show you to him."

He gestured for them to follow, and Melanie's legs felt like they might buckle under the weight of everything she had just heard. But she steadied herself. Whatever came next, she would face it. She had no other choice.