Chapter 5: when joy stands still

Rayzel hadn't planned to lie to his fiancée—but he had no choice. Salim needed him.

He left for the hospital in a rush, without telling her. Days passed. His calls became fewer. Then, silence. He didn't answer her texts. She waited, hoping he'd return or at least explain—but nothing came.

Until one call.

Rayzel finally picked up, only to be met with fury.

"I'm in your house," she snapped. "With your mother. And I told her everything."

His stomach dropped. "You what?"

"I told her how you left. How you said nothing. How I was supposed to be your wife next week but didn't know if you were even alive."

Click.

The line went dead.

Rayzel stared at the screen, guilt settling over him like fog. His mother had always trusted him. If she believed his fiancée over him, then she was more than suspicious—she was hurt.

And she was right to be.

Rayzel returned home two days later, after long discussions with Mr. Alaric and Elian. They all agreed: the truth had to come out.

By then, Salim was stable enough to leave the hospital, though barely.

He sat slouched in a wheelchair, arm in a sling, teeth wired with braces, the side of his face slightly swollen. The bandages around his chest were tight, and his legs were too weak to support him. Everything he hated—every symbol of weakness—clung to him now.

He hated needing help. He hated how everyone looked at him.

But he was lucky.

If it hadn't been for Rayzel, things would have been worse. Much worse. The first hospital had nearly killed him—they left him bleeding inside. Rayzel's coming saved his life.

When they returned home, Rayzel and Elian sat their mother down.

"You need to calm down before you see him," Rayzel said.

Her eyes narrowed. "Why? What happened to my son?"

They wheeled Salim into the room.

The moment their mother saw him, her hand flew to her mouth. Her body trembled, and she fell to her knees as tears spilled freely. "Oh my God… Salim."

He didn't look at her. Couldn't.

The pity in her eyes crushed him.

Jena his little sister was brought home from school , she screamed when she saw him. "What happened to you?!"

Even Karina, who had flown back from university, couldn't hide her tears. "Salim…"

He didn't speak to any of them.

Not one word.

Their mother cornered Elian in the hallway later that night, her voice shaking. "Why didn't you tell me? How long has he been like this?" "why did you fight? "

Elian stood still, silent. What could he say?

Eventually, the household adjusted. They stopped staring. They stopped asking. They noticed that the more they treated Salim like glass, the more he withdrew. So, for his sake, they turned their focus to the upcoming wedding.

But Salim stayed in the background.

He tried to walk once, just to use the restroom—but he fell. His body didn't listen to him anymore. He lay there on the cold tiles, eyes wide, waiting for something to change, something to click.

It didn't.

He started slipping, mentally.

He hated that Elian had to feed him. That Karina had to help him dress. That he couldn't assist in the wedding preparation or help his grandpa with the new interns. 

That night, after everyone went to bed, he rolled to Elian's room.

Elian didn't ask questions when Salim showed up.

Salim sat on the edge of the bed, fists clenched. "I don't know who I am anymore."

His voice cracked.

"I'm Useless."

Then he broke.

Elian pulled him close, no words—just silence and trembling shoulders.

" I'm so sorry, "was all he could utter

Salim cried until he fell asleep on Elian's bed. It was the first time he'd rested in days.

But when he woke up and saw Rayzel laughing in the garden with his bride-to-be the next morning, something clicked.

if his brother was happy then.. even if he felt weaker

He decided to hold it together just long enough to get through the wedding.

------

The morning sun poured golden light over the Vance estate. The mansion was alive with flowers, fabric, and the sounds of gentle chaos—makeup artists, decorators, laughter, and last-minute instructions weaving into a vibrant hum.

Rayzel stood by the window of his room, watching the flurry below.

Today was his wedding.

He adjusted his cufflinks with shaking fingers. Not from fear—but from the weight of everything that had come before this day. Salim's accident. The lies. The truth. The long silence between him and the woman who was about to become his wife.

A soft knock came at the door.

"Come in," he said.

His mother stepped in, eyes moist already. "You look like your father did the day we got married."

He gave her a tired smile. "That's a good thing, right?"

She nodded and came forward to fix his tie. "Very good."

Downstairs, guests had begun to arrive. Elian helped guide Salim's wheelchair into a quiet corner, dressed in a sleek dark suit that fit loosely over his healing frame. His arm was still bound, his body still fragile but his hair was brushed neatly, and Jena had pinned a small white rose to his lapel.

"You look decent," she said, hands on her hips.

Salim gave her a crooked smile. "Not the most charming groomsman, huh?"

"You're the most charming one here," Jena whispered, and kissed his forehead.

Karina joined them, phone in hand. "Want to say hi to the guests?"

"God, no," Salim muttered.

Karina only smiled. "Good. You're still dramatic. You'll live."

The ceremony began in the garden, surrounded by trimmed hedges, soft music, and rows of white chairs. Rayzel stood at the altar in a cream suit, nerves visible but controlled. Elian stood beside him, tall and composed, offering silent support.

Then came the bride.

She walked down the aisle in a lace gown that shimmered with every step. Her eyes locked on Rayzel's—and everything else faded.

There was no anger left. No pain. Just love.

As she reached the altar, Rayzel mouthed, I'm sorry.

She smiled and mouthed back, I know.

The ceremony was simple. Intimate. Real.

Vows were exchanged. Promises made. Tears quietly wiped away.

And then . Laughter. The kiss.

They were finally husband and wife.

At the reception, the house transformed. Lights draped across the garden. A band played soft, celebratory tunes. Guests clinked glasses and toasted the couple.

Salim remained in his corner, observing.

He smiled when he saw Rayzel lift his bride into a spin. He laughed softly when Jena dropped cake on her dress. He even allowed a photo or two.

But when no one was looking, he wheeled himself quietly into the shadows of the house and stopped by the window.

He watched it all from there. The joy. The dancing. The light.

And in that silence, a strange warmth passed through him—not joy exactly, but something close.

Hope.

Maybe… just maybe, life wasn't finished with him yet

His breaths grew shorter, his body colder. Then, everything faded.

He collapsed. The music stopped. Plates clattered. Gasps filled the air. Panic erupted.

That was his last thought: "I messed up. Again."

Rayzel didn't waste a second. From joy to crisis, he tore off his jacket, slipping into doctor mode. His expression turned grim as he carried Salim out with Elian's help. The cameras caught it all. The news spread like wildfire.

Back at the hospital, chaos reigned. Nurses rushed. Machines beeped. Rayzel tried everything—but nothing worked.

Salim's mom pushed her way to the door, screaming, demanding to see her son, but nurses held her back gently.

Inside, Salim looked pale—almost unrecognizable. No one had noticed how much he'd been deteriorating.

Rayzel emerged, exhausted and confused. "His vitals are dropping... everything we try fails."

Tears streamed down their mother's face. "Is he going to be okay?"

Jena sobbed, clinging to Elian. The room turned ice cold with fear.

They were loosing him...