The Lives Untold: Chapter 5: Was This All It Took..?
Tabith’s POV
I opened my eyes.
For a second, I didn’t move.
The ceiling above me wasn’t ours.
I blinked.
Once.
Twice.
White ceiling. Harsh lights. A faint antiseptic smell.
A hospital.
My heart lurched.
What happened?
I tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness immediately washed over me.
Then I remembered.
The living room.
My legs.
That sudden, horrible moment when they stopped feeling like they belonged to me.
I had tried to steady myself.
I hadn’t even made it to the couch.
Everything had gone black.
And then…
That message.
What if it wasn’t a bluff…?
My stomach twisted.
Before I could think any further, an angry voice cut through the silence.
“You’re awake.”
I turned my head.
Damian.
He was sitting beside my bed in an incredibly uncomfortable-looking plastic hospital chair, his hands wrapped tightly around mine.
His expression was furious.
But his eyes told a completely different story.
Fear.
“So…” he said, his voice dangerously calm. “You decided to skip meals, huh?”
I swallowed.
“How did yo-“
“Did you think I’m broke or something?” he interrupted. “You think I’m not wealthy enough to feed you? Do you think you’re saving money by doing this?”
“That’s not wha-“
I stopped.
My gaze dropped to our hands.
“I’m a billionaire, Tabitha. You think I can’t afford eggs?”
Despite everything, I almost laughed.
Almost.
“No… I…”
“Then explain to me why the flip you were skipping meals to the point that you became so weak you collapsed!”
I winced.
“I’ve been doing this for years, okay?!”
The words escaped before I could stop them.
Damian froze.
I immediately regretted saying them.
“And since when are you suddenly so not-so-tsundere?” I muttered.
Nothing.
Not even a tiny smile.
His fingers tightened around mine.
Damian’s POV
Of course I was angry.
How could I not be?
When I found her on that living room floor, everything inside me had stopped.
I still remembered the feeling.
My hands shaking as I tried to wake her.
My throat closing when she didn’t respond.
The horrible silence between each breath.
Even now, sitting beside her hospital bed, I couldn’t stop checking that she was actually awake.
Her fingers were warm in mine.
She was breathing.
She was looking at me.
And somehow, my body still hadn’t gotten the message that she was safe.
My thumb kept moving against the back of her hand without me realizing it.
“Years?”
My voice came out rough.
“Years?” I repeated. “How long have you been doing this?”
“It doesn’t MATTER!” she snapped.
My chest tightened.
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“Don’t say that.”
She looked away.
“Tabitha, you collapsed.”
“I know.”
“You could’ve seriously hurt yourself.”
“I said I know!”
My jaw clenched.
I tried to take a steady breath.
It didn’t work.
My lungs felt too tight.
“Then why are you acting like this isn’t a big deal?”
She suddenly looked at me.
“Because you don’t make time for me!”
I froze.
“What?”
“It’s always work, work, work for you!” Her voice trembled. “Studio, songs, meetings, arrangements, rehearsals… it’s always something!”
“Taby, I have responsibilities.”
“And I don’t?!”
Silence.
My fingers tightened around hers.
“I saw you once this entire week,” she said. “ONCE.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
She laughed bitterly.
“And you know what’s funny? You didn’t even notice.”
“That’s not true.”
“Then tell me.” Her eyes locked onto mine. “Tell me what I did on Tuesday.”
I went still.
She waited.
I couldn’t answer.
My stomach dropped.
Her expression crumpled for half a second before she forced it back into anger.
“Exactly.”
“Tabitha…”
“No, don’t.” She shook her head. “Don’t suddenly act like you understand.”
“I am trying to understand.”
My voice cracked slightly.
I hated that it did.
“Well, maybe you should’ve tried before I ended up in a hospital bed.”
That one hit hard.
I looked down at our hands.
They were trembling.
I couldn’t tell if it was her hand or mine.
Maybe both.
“You think I don’t care about you?” I asked quietly.
She didn’t answer.
“You think I chose work over you?”
Still nothing.
My throat tightened.
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
Her eyes flickered.
For a moment, I thought she might finally let me in.
Instead, she whispered,
“What’s the point?”
My chest tightened again.
“What does that mean?”
She looked down at her hands.
“It means I’m tired, Damian.”
Her voice was quieter now.
Not angry.
Just exhausted.
And somehow, that scared me more than her shouting.
“Tired of what?”
She swallowed.
“Everything.”
I stared at her.
She took a shaky breath.
Then she looked straight at me.
“Damian… I think we need to break up.”
My heart seemed to forget how to beat.
For a second, I couldn’t breathe.
I just stared at her.
“…What?”
