Chapter 3
The national team rushed me to Metro General Hospital.
After three days and nights of emergency treatment and surgery, I barely survived.
My left leg was encased in a thick cast, held together with steel pins.
My belly felt hollow, the little life inside me gone for good.
After so long in the darkness, my eyes were severely light-sensitive due to infection from the sand and mud.
My eyes wrapped in thick bandages, I could barely make out blurry shapes.
William Cole, the national team captain who personally led the rescue, sat by my bedside.
Even this tough-as-nails man had eyes rimmed red, his heart clearly aching.
He said, "Sylvia, you've been through so much.
"Where's that bastard husband of yours? The rescue team didn't see a trace of him, and he hasn't shown up at the hospital."
I forced a smile, my lips cracked and dry. My voice was hoarse, like a broken bellows. "Maybe he's dead."
William let out a heavy sigh, trying to keep his temper in check as he went to help with the paperwork for my transfer.
I leaned against the wall, hobbling along with my leg in a cast.
Slowly, I shuffled out of the hospital room, heading to the nurse's station to ask for a cup of water.
As I passed the VIP room at the end of the hallway, the door was half-open. Inside, a sugary-sweet female voice rang out, sickeningly saccharine, making my skin crawl.
Yara sobbed, "Robert, every time I close my eyes, all I see is that dark water. I'm so scared.
"I thought I'd never see you again."
Her voice trembled with tears, filled with hurt and lingering fear.
I stopped and peeked inside through the gap in the door.
Robert was sitting by the bed, leaning forward, carefully blow-drying Yara's hair with a patience that seemed endless.
His touch was so gentle, as if he was terrified of pulling even a single strand.
He'd never shown that kind of patience and tenderness to me.
Robert reassured her gently, "Don't be scared, Yara. I'm right here.
"The doctor said you were just a little shaken, no injuries. You need a few days to rest, and you'll be fine."
"But Sylvia still hasn't been found. What if something happened to her?" Yara sniffled, pretending to feel guilty as she started to cry. "It's all my fault. If I weren't so clueless, none of this would have happened."
Robert's hand paused for a moment, a hint of impatience flickering in his voice. "Don't bring her up.
"She's always been so strong-willed. With the national team, she's been through every kind of extreme situation you can imagine.
"She didn't even touch her backup oxygen. I bet she managed to crawl out on her own ages ago.
"She's probably holed up somewhere right now, deliberately sulking to punish us."
I leaned against the cold wall, listening to the absurd conversation inside. I had reached the point where I couldn't summon the energy to be angry.
While I crawled through hell, coughing up blood and dragging my shattered leg, Robert was gently blow-drying Yara's hair.
While my child was reduced to nothing but blood, he was fussing over Yara, worried she'd been frightened.
The cruelest joke was to give one's life for another, only for that sacrifice to be seen as mere stepping stones for the one they truly loved.
The glass slipped from my hand and crashed to the floor, shattering into a million pieces.
The sharp sound of breaking glass startled everyone inside the room.
Robert burst through the door.
His eyes landed on me—standing there in the hallway, hospital gown hanging off me, eyes covered in thick gauze, leg in a heavy cast.
His pupils shrank, and for a split second, shock flickered across his face.
But that flicker of shock lasted less than a second, quickly replaced by his usual cold frown.
"Sylvia? What are you doing here?" Robert's gaze swept over my battered, miserable state, his voice colder than ice. "Since you're out, why haven't you checked in with the team?
"Why did you have to pull this disappearing act and make everyone hunt for you?"
I looked at him through the gauze covering my eyes. Staring at that face I once knew so well, now a stranger to me, I said nothing.
When I didn't answer, Robert's anger flared even hotter.
He strode over, grabbed my arm, and leaned in, his voice low and accusing. "Did you make yourself look like this to stir things up for Yara?
"Sylvia, you were never this irrational.
"Yara's always been timid. She nearly died this time. If you've got a problem, come at me instead.
"Don't play the martyr here. These cheap tricks for sympathy are pathetic."
Cheap? I almost laughed out loud, so furious at how he twisted the truth.
I was the one abandoned when it mattered most. I was the one who crawled out of that dark river, barely clinging to life. I was the one who lost my child.
And now, he was accusing me of using cheap tricks to fight for his attention in a life-or-death gamble.