Losing Control : His Madness, His Cure Chapter 242

It’s strange how calm they all seem. Xander’s family. When they first arrived, their faces had carried raw panic. But now they’ve somehow found composure, as if they're sure everything is going to be fine.

And I can’t understand how they do it, I envy them for it. Hate it a little too.

Everyone except his siblings is gone now. His parents went to book a hotel, promising to return immediately after. Alyssa convinced me to move to the lobby down the hall, saying I’d drive myself insane just standing outside the ICU all night. So now I’m here, sitting on a couch that’s too soft, surrounded by too much quiet. It’s just past midnight, the kind of hour where everything feels more bleak than it should.

Alyssa reappears a few minutes later, balancing two paper cups and a brown takeout bag.

“Coffee,” she says softly, handing me one. “And some sandwiches from the cafeteria. They’re.... not terrible.”

I take the cup. “Thanks.”

The food lands untouched on the small table beside me. I wrap both hands around the coffee, needing the heat more than the taste.

Across from us, Damien’s curled up on another couch, fast asleep. Nothing about tonight is peaceful, but somehow he’s managed to find a fragment of it. Alyssa sinks into the seat beside me. I can feel her eyes on me, gentle and observant, the kind of gaze that feels like it’s seeing too much, but I don’t look back.

After a while, she says quietly, “He’ll pull through, you know.”

Her voice is certain. And I want to ask her how she can be so sure. How anyone can ever be sure of anything. Because I’ve learned that certainty is just another word for denial, something fragile people cling to before the world reminds them that nothing’s promised.

But I just nod, pretending I believe her, and bring the cup to my lips. The coffee tastes burnt, bitter.... fucking appropriate.

After a minute, her gaze starts to weigh on me, and I turn my head toward her. She’s sitting with her legs crossed, cup balanced delicately between her palms, her hair pulled back in a loose braid. The light catches her face, and it hits me again how much she looks like their mom. Same eyes. Same quiet grace.

I clear my throat, my voice rasping when I ask, “How are your kids?”

She blinks like she hadn’t expected me to speak at all, then smiles. “They’re good. I left them with their dad. He was supposed to leave for a business trip, but he cancelled when we got the call.”

I nod. “Oh.”

That’s all I’ve got. The small talk dries up before it can even begin. She’s quiet again for a moment, and I think that’s it, that maybe she’ll let me sink back into silence. But then, softly, she says, “He really loves you.”

I turn to look at her fully this time, but she’s not watching me anymore, her gaze is somewhere distant. Like she didn’t say it to comfort me, just to state something she believes is true.

I don’t answer. Because if I open my mouth right now, I’m not sure what will come out. She keeps her eyes on her cup when she speaks again. “He told me,” she says.

I glance at her, a small smile ghosts across her face, tired but soft. “While you were visiting, when we went to put the kids to bed. I teased him about the way he looked at you, so doey-eyed.” She lets out a faint breath that could almost be a laugh, but it fades too fast. “He said he’d never felt anything like that before. That there wasn’t a single thing he wouldn’t do for you.”

I look away. My throat tightens, and I take a long, steady breath through my nose, trying to push the emotion down. Her words feel like they don’t belong in a world where he’s hooked up to machines just to keep breathing.

She turns toward me a little more. “He loves you in such a pure and genuine way,” she adds softly. “You know that, right?”

I want to tell her to stop, that I can’t hear this right now, but I can’t form the words. I just nod, pushing everything back down where it belongs.

And then she asks, “You two were planning on moving in together, weren’t you?”

“Yeah,” I manage. “We were.”

She nods, a slow, thoughtful gesture. “That’s nice. You’ll get to, eventually.”

I let out a breath that feels too cold. And as I stare ahead at nothing, the pain hits again, clean and merciless. It doesn’t claw or burn... it just is, deep and final, like the universe quietly folding in on itself.

All the things we would’ve done flicker through my mind like broken film. All of it feels close enough to touch, and yet a lifetime away. Now all I have are moments suspended in my head, unlived and unfinished.

I tell her I’m gonna head back to the hallway, she just gives me that soft, knowing look...sympathy tucked behind her eyes.

I stand and turn toward the door, ready to disappear into the white corridor again, when someone calls my name.

I turn.

A guy's standing a few steps away, he’s got dark hair and an easy, unhurried gait as he walks closer. For a second, my brain doesn’t quite place him... I just stare, blank and tired...then it clicks.

And it hits me how completely out of it I must’ve been when I got here, too gone to even realize which hospital it was. He steps forward, calm confidence in every movement, and stretches out a hand. He's wearing a lab coat and has a stethoscope around his neck. “Rowan,” he says, his tone smooth. “Layla’s friend.”

I blink, then nod, gripping his hand. “Yeah,” I manage. “I know.”

He glances briefly at Alyssa, then back at me. “Layla reached out,” he says. “Asked for my help.”

My brow furrows. “Help with what?”

He sucks in a breath, glances around the hallway before looking back at me. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes.... hesitation, maybe guilt.... but then his mouth quirks in a small, knowing smirk. “Technically, it’s not allowed,” he says, lowering his voice a notch. “But I’m pretty sure I can charm a few nurses into letting you in your boyfriend’s room.”

For a moment, I just stare at him. My brain takes a second to process it. Then I straighten, the exhaustion in my limbs shifting into something sharper. “You can do that?” The words are more hopeful than I mean them to be.

His gaze drifts over me, like he’s weighing how far gone I am, whether I’m the kind of man worth breaking rules for. “Yeah,” he says finally. “The nurses like me.”

Alyssa exhales, the tension in her shoulders easing just a little. “We’d really appreciate that,” she says quietly.

Rowan turns to her, gives a polite nod, then looks back at me. “Only one person, though,” he says. “Layla figured you’d wanna see him.”

I nod once, because there’s a lump in my throat and I can’t push words past it. Those fifteen minutes earlier I’d spent just standing there, a few feet from his bed, staring at him from a distance like getting too close might break something in me. I’d thought I could handle it, thought I could keep it together. But the second I stepped forward, the world shifted.

He looked too still. Tubes and wires where my hands should’ve been. I couldn’t look at him for more than ten seconds without wanting to fall apart completely.

“Come with me,” Rowan says, already turning before I can even answer.