The Rose He Killed novel Chapter 186

Chapter 168: Hospital Stay

Caleb POV

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The chair next to her bed wasn’t meant for sleeping; by the second night, my back was certain of it but I refused to leave anyway.

Around midnight, the first nurse offered a proper couch in the family room.

“I’m fine here,” I said.

“Mr. Black, you really should get some proper rest,” she replied gently. “You can’t support her if you’re running on empty.”

“I appreciate that. I’m fine here.”

She didn’t push, just checked the monitors and left.

The next morning, a younger nurse tried a more direct approach. “The chair isn’t good for your back,” he noted.

“My back is managing,” I told him.

Bella watched the exchange from over the top of her book, with the expression of someone who found it mildly entertaining.

“He won’t move,” she told the nurse. “I’ve tried.”

“You haven’t tried,” I countered.

“I told you the chair looked uncomfortable.”

“That’s not the same as trying.”

The nurse made a quick note on his clipboard and gave up. From then on, they stopped asking, and I respected them for it. They had correctly decided to focus their energy elsewhere.

Dr. Okafor kept using the word “stable.” To me, that meant she wasn’t getting worse, but the risk remained. We were in a holding pattern.

I moved my workstation into the corner, letting James handle everything that didn’t need me directly.

Around the second day, Bella reached for her own laptop.

“No,” I said, without looking up.

She stopped. “Caleb”

“You’re in a hospital bed.” I looked up then. “Whatever it is, it waits.”

“The acquisition”

“Waits.”

Chapter 168 Hospital Stay

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She gave me the look-the one that had leveled boardrooms and made grown men reconsider their life choices. I held it without flinching, which I was fairly proud of. “You’re working,” she said, switching angles.

“I am working so that you don’t have to.” I turned back to my screen. “That’s the arrangement.”

She was quiet for a moment. “I hate this.”

“I know.”

“I feel useless just lying here.”

I looked at her then, properly. “You’re keeping our daughter alive,” I said. “That’s not useless. That’s the only job that matters right now.”

She didn’t argue after that. She picked up a book instead, which I considered a complete victory.

Tom visited every afternoon with Diana, immediately transforming the room. He walked in carefully, following the “no running” rule with serious focus. After climbing onto the bed, he’d settle in beside Bella, always bringing gifts: a daily drawing, a dinosaur figurine, and a “GET WELL MUMMY” card featuring a questionable flower.

Watching them was my only distraction from the situation. When he arrived, the tension Bella carried all day – the pain and fear – simply vanished. She became a softer, more open version of herself, laughing at his stories and letting him “fix” her pillows.

“You’re not comfy,” he announced, eyeing the pillows behind her with deep suspicion.

“I’m completely comfortable,” she told him.

“Nuh uh.” He was already yanking the pillow out from behind her shoulder and shoving it back in a slightly different position with great confidence. “There. That’s better.”

“Thank you, Tom.”

“You’re welcome.” He plopped down beside her and dug around in his little backpack. “Diana says the baby’s room is nearly ready.”

“I know, she sent me pictures.”

“I helped pick the colour.” He looked over at me briefly, very proud. “Daddy said yes.”

“You both have excellent taste,” Bella said, and he beamed – the wide, full-face beam of a child who had been told exactly the right thing at exactly the right moment.

I looked at the window, jaw tight, breathing through it quietly.

“Daddy.” His voice came smaller this time. “Are you sad?”

I looked back at him. “No, buddy. I’m good.”

He stared at me with those grey eyes – my eyes – in that unnerving way he had, like he could see straight through to whatever a person was actually feeling. “You look a little bit sad,” he said.

“Maybe a little bit,” I said. “But when you’re here it gets better.”

2.4

He thought about this seriously, then gave a small nod like that was a reasonable and acceptable answer, and turned back to pull a drawing out of his bag and present it to Bella with both hands.

I made you this. It’s a tree, the green bit is leaves.

“It’s a beautiful tree, Bella said.

“I know,” he said simply, and climbed further up the bed to sit closer to her.

Nights were harder. During the day, tasks and people kept my fear boxed away. But in the quiet of the room, with only the hurn of monitors and Bella’s breathing, there was nothing to hide behind.

I was terrified. It wasn’t just the baby, it was the thought of losing Bella. It was a realization too massive to process-the understanding of what my life would be without her.

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