Page 55 of It Must Be Fate

No one listens to my demands.

No one understands that I won’t live if she doesn’t.

Somewhere deep inside, I know that they’re trying to save her life, but I can’t reconcile my brain to that knowledge. Not when I’ve been forcibly separated from her.

I’m thrown out into the hallway without a second glance. Scrambling to my feet, I reach blindly for and successfully grab a hold of someone’s arm.

Who, I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter.

“Please,” I beg. “Please save my wife. Please save her.”

The kindly nurse takes pity on me, his face softening a fraction when he sees the frantic desperation in mine.

“That’s what we’re working on.”

“You have to save her.”

I claw at his arm, my nails digging into his skin and coming up with blood as I clutch desperately at him. “Let me see her,” I plead. “I need to be with her. I need to be with my wife.”

He grabs my wrist and gently removes one hand, then the other. I let him, the fight suddenly draining out of me.

“You need to wait here and let the doctor try and save your wife’s life. You’ll do more harm than good if you go back in there.”

He turns on his heels and walks back into the theater, shutting the door behind him and leaving me hanging on one word.

Try.

“Let the doctorstryand save your wife’s life.”

Like it’s not a certainty that they will.

Like they’re even considering an outcome in which they don’t.

I stumble backwards blindly, numbly, weakly, my back hitting a wall and my legs giving out until I slide all the way down to the floor.

I bring my knees up to my chest and bury my head in my forearms, dooming myself to despondency and the bleakness of my thoughts.

The world tilts on its axis and I find myself dizzy beyond belief, experiencing severe motion sickness just sitting on the floor.

My stomach roils. Nausea grabs me by the throat, threatening to introduce my breakfast to the hospital floor.

My mind is already lost but I feel it slip further and further away until it feels completely beyond reach.

I can’t do this.

I can’t imagine a world without Six, let alone consider living in it for even a second.

I’m assaulted by every horrible thought and I—

A hand wraps around my forearm.

It’s strong and squeezes my flesh reassuringly, in a completely different way than how I was grabbed before. It’s a much-needed anchor back to Earth, back to reality and the present moment from where I’ve been spinning out of control.

I lift my head and my eyes collide with Tristan’s.

He’s crouched in front of me, his left hand still gripping me. His face is as serious as I’ve ever seen it, his expression steady as he stares back at me.

“I—”

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