Chapter 7: The Silent Suffering

Julia opened her eyes to a bright white ceiling. The soft hum of machines beeped around her. A wave of relief washed over her as she realized she was safe—she was in a hospital.

She exhaled deeply, remembering the struggles she and Dante faced. They had run without stopping, didn't rest or seeking shelter. Time had lost meaning; all she felt was pain in her body, but Dante's presence had kept her going.

It felt like a miracle when they stumbled upon a small police station. There, they shared their story, holding back tears. After taking their statements, the officers escorted them to the hospital, a safe haven.

A nurse bustled in, her attention shifting to Julia. A warm smile spread across her face. "I'm so glad you're awake! How do you feel? Let me call the doctor for you."

Julia felt a small smile tug at her lips. The realization that they were safe helped lift her spirits. "I'm not okay yet, I guess. Thank you so much," she replied gently.

The nurse stepped out to fetch the doctor. Shortly after, an older man in a crisp white coat entered. "Mrs. Voss, how are you feeling? I'm the doctor in charge of your care," he said kindly.

She nodded, understanding he must have gotten her name from the police. "Thank you for checking on me, doctor. I still feel really unwell. My whole body aches, like I've been hit by a truck," she admitted.

A few nurses moved to close the curtain, creating a softer space just for her. "I've run several tests, and thankfully, you have no broken bones or concussions. But there's something we discovered…"

Panic clutched her heart. Did something else happen to her during that incident? "W-What is it, doctor?" she stammered, her voice trembling.

Even with his serious face, she noticed the sympathy in his eyes. "Mrs. Voss, we found a laceration. This is a result of your assault. We'll prepare your test results for the women's desk and the police to strengthen your report," he explained gently.

Shock filled her eyes as the words sank in. Suddenly, she remembered Dante. The doctor had it all wrong. Yes, she was bleeding, but not for the reasons he thought! It wasn't the syndicate who had done this to her; it was Dante, who was also a victim like her.

But the choice had been hers. She had urged Dante into that moment. Maybe the laceration happened because they weren't ready emotionally. They weren't a loving couple, as there had been no romance before that "moment." She felt overwhelmed; it was an experience that hurt her deeply.

She guessed that Dante felt exactly the same. He wasn't her boyfriend; he was just as pressured and frightened by everything that had happened. His quick movements showed his anxiety. She couldn't blame him; they both suffered from a harsh situation.

But how could she explain that to the doctor? The fear of judgment loomed over her. What if Dante faced allegations because they saw things differently? Would he be in trouble?

She met the doctor's gaze, shaking her head. "N-No. It wasn't the syndicate that did this to me. It's… another man, also a victim like me. I don't want to charge him, so doctor, I don't need those test results," she insisted.

The doctor raised an eyebrow in surprise but nodded, remaining professional. "I understand. Your condition is stable, and you need to rest. If you need anything, my nurses are here; just call for them," he reassured her.

A soft smile appeared on her face. "Thank you, doctor…"

Weakness washed over her as she leaned back against the pillow. Gratefulness filled her heart for escaping danger and gaining a second chance. Yet uncertainty clouded her emotions—she felt an inexplicable emptiness.

Without realizing it, she drifted off to sleep once more. She only stirred when she felt a gaze upon her. Panic gripped her heart as she feared it might be the syndicate again, causing her to wake abruptly.

Blinking the sleep away, she saw a man seated at the edge of her bed. It was Victor! Her husband!

Tears welled in her eyes. "V-Victor…?" she whispered, her voice breaking.

He blinked back, relief flooding his features. "Victor, yes! You're here!" Overcome with emotion, Julia burst into tears and buried her face in her husband's comforting embrace.

He wrapped his arms around her tightly. "I'm glad you're awake! The police called me, and I rushed over because I was worried. My parents also called, saying you didn't come home, and they were worried sick!"

The thought of his parents filled her with guilt—they needed her help, but she remembered she hadn't asked for this fate. It wasn't her fault; she couldn't control what had happened.

"What happened?" Victor asked, eyebrows furrowing. "I spoke to the police, but they didn't give me any information. They said it would be better if you explained it to me."

Taken aback, she hadn't seen that coming. The police usually informed husbands about their wives' situations like this, but they let her tell Victor first. She felt grateful; she wanted to share everything she endured on her own.

She looked away, not ready to discuss everything here in the hospital. "I'll tell you when we get home. I just want to get out of here first," she said softly.

He nodded but looked a bit confused by her response. "Okay. The doctor said you don't have any deep wounds, and you can go home tomorrow. You might be better off recovering at the mansion, if that's the case, we'll head to the city."

A chill ran through her as the memories of where the syndicate had attacked them flooded her mind. They were still in that haunted place, and she longed to travel back home.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He gently squeezed her arm. "Don't worry. I'll take care of your discharge tomorrow," he assured her.

He stood up and moved towards the door, but suddenly a wave of emotion washed over her, and she reached for him, grabbing his wrist.

He halted, turning to her. "Julia? Is there anything else you need?" he asked softly.

The memories of that painful chapter swirled in her mind, and guilt tightened around her heart because what she had guarded for so long felt irretrievably lost.

She wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, tears spilling down her cheeks. "V-Victor, I love you so much…" was all that escaped her lips.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head slightly. "I know you love me. But what's really going on with you?"

She gazed up at him, her voice trembling. "I don't want to lose you. You are my life," she declared, her heart pouring out.

His expression was unreadable. "You sound paranoid. This is just exhaustion and trauma, Julia. You're being too dramatic! Just rest for now," he replied and tapped her back.

After a moment, he turned and left the ward room. A wave of sadness washed over her. Why did she feel this way? Victor was worried about her, but something felt off. Was she expecting too much? Was she truly being dramatic? Why he said that? Was it wrong to feel disappointed? Shouldn't he be more worried about her? Why can't he just say he love her too? Is it too much to ask?

Everyone who knew them saw how deeply she loved Victor. But why, after all she had experienced, did it feel like her pain meant nothing to him? She was certain the police had told him about the syndicate that had taken her, but not the whole story. Still, he knew he was hurt.

It felt like she was the only one who misses him so much. It seemed like she was the only one who loved so deeply. She shook her head in disbelief. Perhaps this was just her mind playing tricks due to the trauma. How could he marry her if he didn't truly love her?

With a heavy sigh, she settled back against the pillow. She silently prayed that everything would be alright once they returned to the city.

Meanwhile, Dante rested in another ward room within the same hospital. They had both been brought here. Other than some cuts and bruises, he had no serious injuries, but his body felt weak and heavy.

"Excuse me, miss, could you tell me where Julia Voss's ward room is? The woman who came in with me," he asked the busy nurse inside the room.

The nurse pointed him in the right direction. Despite feeling weak, he pushed himself to stand and visit Julia. He knew this would mean a lot to her, and he wanted to check on her and apologize once more.

When he reached her ward, he hesitated at the door, peeking inside. His heart dropped as he saw her clinging to a man's waist, tears streaming down her cheeks. The love in her expression was unmistakable.

He wasn't naive enough to think this was Julia's husband. A bitter smile crossed his lips. Why was he even heading to see her? She didn't hate him, but to her, he was a painful memory she likely wanted to forget.

She didn't need him there. A tight ache gripped his heart at the sight before him, and he turned away, deciding not to go in. Soon, he stood before the receptionist, ready to ask about the discharge process.

He longed to escape that place. If he stayed, guilt and unexplainable pain would consume him, and he might even end up taking Julia away from her husband!

And for the second time around, he doesn't wanna be the bad man! Fuck, what the hell is wrong with him?!