Love, Eventually

Chapter 5-Letting Go, Holding On

Finnigan awoke to a pounding headache and a chorus of beeping monitors. The sterile scent in the air and the stark white ceiling confirmed what he feared-he wasn't in his bedroom. Groggy and disoriented, he shut his eyes again, trying to piece together how he'd ended up here. Images from last night-Brielle's sharp words, the gut-wrenching feeling of rejection, and his collapsing body-flashed through his mind. A soft voice brought him back.

"Finn..." It was his mother.

He opened his eyes slowly, vision blurred. "What happened?"

"You fainted," she said gently, brushing his hair back. "Brielle said you collapsed while heading to the bathroom. The doctor said your blood pressure was dangerously high. They're running tests now, just to be safe."

He nodded weakly. "Where's Brielle?"

"With her parents. She was shaken, Finn. Really shaken."

His eyes fluttered closed again as he processed her words.

His mother kissed his forehead and held his hand. "I'll be here, sweetheart. Just rest."

After a moment, she quietly slipped out of the room. She couldn't shake the feeling that something deeper was going on-Finnigan was rarely ill, and the cuts on his hand hadn't gone unnoticed. He was hiding something.

Outside, their parents waited anxiously. "He's awake, but still weak," she informed them. Everyone sighed in relief-except Brielle, who remained silent.

"He asked about you," his mother said to Brielle, gently.

Her mother added, "Go. He needs you."

Brielle hesitated, then quietly made her way to his room. She found him asleep, his face pale and drawn. The monitor's steady rhythm was a small comfort. She sank into the chair beside him, guilt settling heavily on her chest.

She hadn't known he was unwell. She had been too wrapped up in her own pain to see his. The moment he collapsed replayed in her mind again and again-the panic, the fear that she might lose him. Despite everything, she had cried. She had prayed.

Reaching out, her fingers hovered near his cheek-but she pulled back the moment he stirred. Finnigan's eyes fluttered open, and their gazes met.

"Why didn't you tell me you were sick?" she asked quietly.

He looked away. "Why would I? You don't care."

Her chest ached. "I'm sorry," she whispered, taking his hand.

He felt the warmth of her touch, and for a fleeting moment, he let himself hold onto it.

"You haven't done anything wrong," he said softly.

"I have. I caused all of this... all this pain."

He gently squeezed her hand. "It's not your fault."

Tears brimmed in her eyes. "Then let me go, Fin. That's the only way to stop the pain."

His hand slipped from hers.

"Please," he murmured, voice hollow, "I don't want to talk about this anymore. I need to rest."

She paused, her heart breaking a little more. Then she nodded and stood up. He didn't watch her leave.

Once alone, Finnigan let the tears fall. No matter how long they had been married, she still wanted to leave. He had never asked for more than what she could give, but it was never enough.

He quickly wiped his tears as he heard the door open. Closing his eyes, he pretended to be asleep.

"It's best if we let him rest for now," his father said quietly.

"Agreed," said his father-in-law.

His mother approached and gently kissed his forehead. "Stay strong, honey."

He waited until the room emptied before opening his eyes again. The silence was thick with everything left unsaid. He exhaled deeply, knowing the hardest part hadn't even begun.