Our Tomorrow, Intertwined (Erotic Romance, Sci-Fi Fantasy) -ENGLISH
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Regrets

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Regrets

“I’M SORRY to inform you, Mr. Bismarck, but your wife is not showing improvements. It’s been a month yet she didn’t regain consciousness. We need to monitor her closely because she’s in her first trimester, but you don’t have to worry. We had a similar case like Mrs. Bismarck’s and the baby was delivered on a normal delivery while the mother was in such a state.”

Maximillian Bismarck was about to pounce on Hyacinth’s attending physician but his sister seemed to have sensed his annoyance and had stopped him before he could kill someone. “You talk about her condition like it’s permanent. I want a second opinion right now!” Fuming mad, he attempted to reach for the doctor’s clothes to demand his competence.

“We can’t do anything beyond this point, Mr. Bismarck. We sought the opinion of a known neurosurgeon in the whole country just like you asked but his diagnosis is the same as ours. Like most comatose cases, we can’t predict the time she’ll wake up. The brain is the most complex part of the human body, Mr. Bismarck, and if your wife doesn’t recover, that means her body is still healing.”

Maine used her body as a shield to block her brother’s path from Hyacinth’s attending physician. “Doc, I think my brother is upset. You may leave now. I’ll take care of him.” The doctor happily obliged the young woman’s suggestion.

When the doctor left, Maine turned to look at her brother behind her and looked at him with utmost sympathy. She reached for his shoulder and slapped it, hoping that it would at least help to cool his head. “Hey, why don’t you go home today? You look...well, like a corpse.”

He gave Maine a look of disapproval and exhaustion. “I brought my work with me so I don’t need much rest anyway.”

Max has allowed himself to part with the unconscious Hyacinth for a few weeks so that he could properly end his business venture in the west. After that, he had been hovering over Hyacinth like a hawk...patiently waiting for his wife to open her eyes.

“Max, you look like the undead with your black circles and sleep-deprived face. When I said you look like a corpse, it was an understatement.”

Max heaved a sigh and closed his eyes firmly. It has been two weeks ever since he lingered on his own bed for a few hours of sleep. But his attempts to get a decent rest were futile and he was always bothered by the fact that his bed felt empty and cold.

This is when he realized that he got used to laying down on the bed knowing that his wife duly warmed the sheets with her body. She filled the empty spaces of the bedroom so well that Max cannot stay in their room without noticing that it lacked something—someone.

And he would rather spend his evenings near Hyacinth than go back to that cold, empty room again.

Thankfully, he’s an important man in Sutton City. The hospital allowed him to visit Hyacinth whenever he wanted and stay for an indefinite amount of time. Maine eventually gave up on her attempt to bring him home and just left the bouquet of hyacinths on the edge of the bed.

Max rolled up his sleeves to grab the vase where the old bouquet of white roses wilted. He threw the old ones in the trash bin near the table where the vase is and patiently arranged the hyacinths like he had all the time in the world. Jean begged him to attend a United International conference on his company’s behalf in hopes that a distraction might do well in his current state.

Looking at his reflection from the window pane in front of him, he saw how stress and fatigue drastically changed his appearance. His unshaven facial hair made him look like a man in his forties.

Maine had been right earlier, too. He looked like the undead with his pale skin and dark circles, plus he didn’t comb his hair in a week. His business suit is stained with coffee that he drank yesterday morning. Max couldn’t believe that he just noticed his appearance now...and his smell.

He needed a shower. Badly.

But Hyacinth wouldn’t smell him, anyway. What’s the use of a shower?

And then he remembered how Hyacinth pressed her nose against his skin so that she could inhale his scent. How can he forget the soft sound she released from her sinful mouth after having the satisfaction of smelling him?

Come back to me, please. His mind silently begged Hyacinth’s unconscious form but it didn’t move.

Maybe this is his penance. Maybe he deserved to be deprived of her because of what he did. Or, maybe, the gods and goddesses heard his prayer and finally granted his wish to put a boundary between them.

Conscious and unconsciousness. Both were opposites. A conscious person cannot communicate with an unconscious one. Isn’t this exactly what he wanted that night when he pushed her to the pedestal? He had been a terrified coward, not knowing that heartbreak is just a tiny speck compared to the devastating melancholy that’s currently eating him alive right now knowing that Hyacinth might not wake up.

The constant fear and anxiety that he might lose her any minute is enough torture. Once again, fate has proved itself a formidable force of nature. It is as if the world itself decided to punish him for thinking that everything—everyone—has a price and that he could always tell anyone to do his bidding...that he’s in control of everything.

Well, he can’t control fate. He can’t control life and death. He can’t control love... despair. There are a lot of things he cannot control. Maximillian realized that too late.

He combed his fingers through his hair in annoyance. Realizing his mistakes isn’t one of his core skills. He hates being wrong yet he’s too exhausted to think about his goddamned pride. At that moment, nothing’s more important than Hyacinth.

“God, Hyacinth. I love you.”

He sighed mournfully and covered his face with his palms. He swore to cherish her this time. Max is willing to move heaven and earth for her. Max could’ve sworn that he’ll sacrifice the world if that was the only way to ensure that she’ll recover.

He sat on the couch near his wife’s bed, beside the beeping monitors and the medical apparatus which holds his wife’s dextrose. There’s also a machine that pumps air into her lungs through a tube placed in the windpipe. Hyacinth couldn’t breathe on her own after the accident so she needed the ventilator. The doctor even said that she might not be able to talk properly and might forget how to do the basic tasks after she wakes up.

There’s also a feeding tube attached directly to her stomach and the liquid substitute for food is attached to that tube. A comatose patient is also supposed to be in an Intensive Care Unit but Max insisted that Hyacinth will have her private room and her own attending physician, nurse, and an on-call neurologist just in case.

The attending physician’s suggestion is to constantly talk to the patient as there is a chance that Hyacinth could hear everything. Erin managed to send him a playlist that contained the music that Hyacinth used to listen to. He also talked to her about his day like he was talking to a conscious person.

“Hyacinth, love, I hope you can hear me. Come back to me, please. Come back to us, hmm?” Max reached for his wife’s hand on the bed and gripped it gently. “The world is gray without you in it.”

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