Chapter 173 The Hospital
Emilia’s POV
Sebastian’s words kept echoing in my head.
"You’re using an illness to make me feel guilty? Looks like I didn’t underestimate you. You overestimated yourself."
I’d replayed that moment a hundred times, each time worse than the last. The way he’d looked at me, like I was nothing but a manipulative stranger. The cold finality in his voice when he walked out.
Was there really no way back from this?
"Stop torturing yourself," Eve growled softly. My wolf had been quieter than usual since Sebastian left, as if she felt it too. "You’re stronger than this."
"Am I?" I whispered.
"You survived your father’s neglect, Dorothy’s cruelty, and Linda’s schemes," she said. "You’ll survive this too."
I thought about my mother then. About everything she’d endured in that pack, dancing in that club while wolves sneered at her, raising me alone while Henry pretended we didn’t exist. She never broke. She never begged. She held her head high until the very end.
What I was going through now was nothing compared to what she’d suffered.
I cried that night. Hard, until my throat was raw and my pillow soaked. But when morning came, I made myself a promise. No one would ever see me broken again. Not Sebastian. Not anyone.
So I started over. I forced down three meals a day even when food tasted like ash. Every evening I went to the gym in the pack house, the same one Sebastian used to use. I pushed myself on the treadmill until my legs burned, lifted weights until my arms shook, anything to wear myself out so completely that I couldn’t think about him. Couldn’t remember the way his green eyes softened when he looked at me, before everything fell apart.
The medicine helped. The routine helped more. Sleep came easier when my body had nothing left to give.
A week passed. Then another. My reflection started looking less like a ghost and more like me again. The fever was gone, the weakness fading. I was healing.
Physically, anyway.
I’d gone to Scott’s office to hand in my resignation. He’d looked at it for exactly three seconds before tearing it in half.
"You’re not quitting," he’d said flatly.
"Scott, I can’t keep working here while everything with Sebastian is..."
"Take a leave of absence." He’d cut me off in that tone that meant the discussion was over. "Two weeks, fully paid. Sort out your personal life. Then come back."
I’d wanted to argue, but the truth was I needed the time. And Scott, stubborn as always, wouldn’t take no for an answer.
That afternoon, I was in the library trying to lose myself in a book when I heard footsteps racing down the hallway. Mila burst through the door, her face white with panic.
"Emilia!" she gasped. "We need to go to the hospital. Now."
My book dropped from my hands. "What happened?"
"It’s Sebastian." Her voice cracked. "Fynn just mind-linked me. He’s in the ICU."
The floor seemed to drop out from under me.
"What?"
"He’s been drinking, and something went wrong..." Mila was already grabbing her purse, her hands shaking. "Please, we need to go."
I was moving before I could think. Sebastian was in the hospital. Sebastian was hurt. Nothing else mattered.
The drive to Silverlake General blurred past. Titus was already there, standing stiff and silent outside the ICU. Tiffany came running up moments later, her eyes red.
"Where is he?" Mila demanded. "Where’s my son?"
A doctor came out of the ICU. "Severe stomach bleeding, from heavy drinking," he told them. "We’ve stabilized him, but he’s still critical. The next few hours matter."
"Can we see him?" Titus’s voice was hoarse.
"Not yet. Once he’s out of danger."
I stood there frozen. This was my fault. All of it.
"This isn’t on you," Eve said firmly.
"Isn’t it? He’s lying in there because of what I did."
"He’s lying in there because he drank himself half to death instead of talking to anyone. That’s not on you."
But guilt doesn’t listen to logic.
Through the glass, I could just make out Sebastian on the bed, tubes and monitors around him. His face was pale, almost gray against the white sheets. His dark hair fell across his forehead, and even from here I could see how thin he’d gotten.
My chest ached so hard it was difficult to breathe.
"He looks terrible," Tiffany whispered beside me, crying.
He did.
The hours crawled by. Mila paced until Titus made her sit. Tiffany buried her face in her hands. I just stood by that window, watching Sebastian’s chest rise and fall, afraid it might stop.
"Please," I whispered, not sure who I was talking to. "Please let him be okay."
As evening fell, the doctor came out again.
"He’s stabilized. He’s out of danger. You can see him now, but only a few minutes. He needs rest."
Relief hit me so hard my knees nearly gave.
Mila went in first with Titus. When they came out, Mila’s eyes were wet but calmer. She touched my arm. "Go. He’d want you there when he wakes up."
Would he? After everything he’d said?
But I went anyway.
The ICU room was cold, filled with the steady beep of monitors. Sebastian lay still, looking smaller than the Alpha I knew. An IV fed into his arm. The smell of antiseptic burned my nose.
I pulled a chair up beside the bed and sat, my hands clasped tight in my lap.
"You’re an idiot," I told him quietly. "A stubborn, self-destructive idiot. Did you really think drinking yourself into a hospital bed would fix anything?"
I reached out slowly and placed my hand over his. His skin was cold.
"I miss you," I whispered. "And I hate that nothing I say will make you believe that. So just wake up, Sebastian. Yell at me, call me a liar, whatever you need. I don’t care anymore. Just wake up. Please."
The door opened behind me. I quickly pulled my hand back and wiped my eyes.
"Time’s up," a nurse said gently. "He needs to rest."
I nodded and stood, taking one last look at him before making myself leave.
In the hallway, Mila insisted on going home with Titus and Tiffany to rest. I told them I’d stay, that someone should be here when Sebastian woke up. Mila looked like she wanted to argue, but Titus put a hand on her shoulder.
"Let her stay," he said quietly. "She’s his Luna. She should be here."
Luna. The word felt both right and completely wrong. Could I still call myself that after everything?
After they left, I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows at the end of the hallway, staring out at the city lights of Silverlake below. The hospital was on the seventh floor, high enough to see the whole downtown lit up.
"Rough day?"