Rave & Roses {A Rema Fanfic}

40 - DIVINE

It had been two agonizing weeks since Zara was placed on life support. Every day felt heavier than the last, each one blurring into the next as I sat by her bedside, staring at the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest. The doctors' words offered little solace—they didn't know when, or if, she'd wake up.

Her mother, Ms. Hunter, had arrived the day after the incident. The slap she delivered to my face still burned, not just on my skin but in my soul. "You did this," she'd screamed through tears. Her voice broke as she added, "You promised her everything, and you gave her nothing but pain."

Her pleas to Zara to fight, to wake up, echoed in my head long after she left the room. It was unbearable to watch, yet I stayed. I had to.

Even my own mother, who rarely raised her voice, had slapped me when I told her what had happened. "You're no son of mine if she doesn't wake up," she spat, her voice trembling with fury. My chest tightened as she paced the hospital hallway. "You think love is just words and promises? You think you can just run when things get hard?"

I had no choice but to come clean. Sitting in the cold hospital waiting room, I told them everything. How Zara and I had started dating in secret, the battles we faced with Arya—her ex and my old friend—the pressure from my record label, and the pictures.

The pictures. They'd been the catalyst, the breaking point. I explained how I'd let fear dictate my actions, how I'd abandoned her when she needed me most. And worst of all, how I'd accused her of something she'd never do.

Ms. Hunter's tears didn't stop. She barely looked at me as I spoke, her fingers clutching a crumpled tissue. Mr. Hunter sat beside her, his face unreadable but his silence deafening.

"I'm sorry," I said, my voice cracking. "I know words mean nothing now, but I swear to you, this wasn't how I wanted to meet you. Not like this."

I dropped to my knees, desperation clawing at my throat. "Please, give me another chance. I'll do anything to make this right. Anything."

Ms. Hunter finally looked at me, her eyes filled with raw, unrelenting pain. "Another chance? Another chance for what? To break her again? You don't deserve her."

Her words cut deeper than any slap.

_

It was late evening when I returned to Zara's hospital room. The steady hum of the machines and the faint scent of antiseptic filled the air. Her face looked so peaceful, as if she were only sleeping, but the bruises on her wrist told a different story.

I sat down beside her, taking her hand in mine. It was cold. Too cold.

"Hey, Zara," I whispered, my voice cracking. "I—I don't even know if you can hear me. But I need you to. I need you to wake up. I need to tell you how sorry I am... for everything."

The lump in my throat swelled as the memories came rushing back—her laughter, the way she'd always see the good in people, even in me. I had taken her light for granted.

"I know I don't deserve your forgiveness," I continued. "I've hurt you in ways I can't take back. But I'm going to make it right. I don't know how yet, but I will."

As I sat there, Zara's mom entered the room. Her eyes were red, her expression weary. She paused in the doorway, as if deciding whether to speak or not. Finally, she sighed and walked to the other side of the bed.

"You're still here," she said coldly, not looking at me.

"I'm not leaving," I replied.

Ms. Hunter let out a bitter laugh. "It's funny. You weren't there when she needed you, but now you want to play the grieving boyfriend."