Zareal shoved the door open before the car could fully halt. The handle slipped under her palm, and she stumbled out onto the asphalt, her cane finding the rough surface with a harsh scrape.
The driver eased the car to the curb, engine humming low, while Zareal pressed forward.
Her cane tapped against the tar, each strike lost in the wail of sirens and the shouts of police officers directing traffic. The air carried the sharp tang of burnt rubber, mingling with oil that slicked the ground.
Nadine stepped out behind her.
Suddenly zareal halted at the yellow tape, the plastic fluttering in the breeze. Beyond it, the wreckage sprawled, hood crumpled inward, steam curling upward from hidden cracks. Glass shards littered the lanes, catching stray light from streetlamps, flickering in patches.
Then one officer paced the edge with a camera, flashes popping in quick succession, illuminating twisted metal.
Another stood by the concrete barrier, scribbling on a clipboard, his face was washed in alternating red and blue from the cruisers' lights.
Zareal's fingers tightened around her cane. She needed confirmation. Needed to be wrong about what she had seen from the car window.
STRLING 1.
It really was his license plate, her breath hitched.
"Ma'am, this area's restricted." The officer with the clipboard approached, his hand up in a gesture of routine authority. "Step back, please."
His immense height almost made him hover over her as he approached further.
"That's my husband's car," Zareal said. The words emerged steadier than the tremor in her chest suggested.
And then his expression shifted slightly. He consulted his clipboard, then looked back, his gaze drifting over her gown, the fabric now smudged with road dust, wrinkled from hours of waiting.
"Mrs ranulf sterling" ... The officer blurted, his expression shifting again.
"Yes, his wife.". Zareal responded, the words came out like ash on her tongue. something she had owned for twelve months but hadn't worn.
He glanced at his notes again, flipping a page. "Mr. Sterling has already been transported to the hospital . They're probably evaluating him now."
Suddenly, the tightness in zareal's chest now shifted from humiliation to something sharper. It was now perhaps a worry.
so he had been in an accident.
The wreckage behind the officer looked worse up close than it had from the car window, metal twisted at angles that shouldn't exist. glass was everywhere.
And the front end folded like something had crushed it with a giant fist.
"What was his situation like when he was taken to the hospital?"... zareal was now getting worked up as the question came fast, and was urgent.
The officer hesitated, his pen hovering over his clipboard. "I can't give specifics, ma'am. you'll need to go to the hospital for details on his condition."
"But he's alive right? answer me".
Her voice now cracked slightly on the word, and the officer's pause before answering felt like it lasted an eternity.
"Yes, ma'am. He was conscious when they transported him."
An immediate rush of relief flooded through her, unexpectedly washing away that anger and resentment she held towards him for just a couple of hours.
He could have died.
The thought hit her like a physical blow, as she let out a deep sigh.
So while she had been checking her phone, reading his message over and over, he had been trapped in this wreckage?
While she had been holding flowers that were wilting in her hands, paramedics had been pulling him out of twisted metal and shattered glass.
It was as if her organs were being uprooted from within, perhaps she probably judged too early.
Snapping out of her thoughts quickly. zareal asked, now suddenly trying to piece together a timeline that made sense.
"Was he driving?"...
The officer again flipped another page on his clipboard. "No, ma'am. He wasn't behind the wheel."
"Then who was?"
"Again, I can't release information about the other individual involved to anyone who isn't their immediate family."... The officer responded softly
Zareal's mind immediately began spiralling, as it suddenly went to david, Ranulf's assistant.
The man who drove him places when he was too buried in work to focus on the road. surely david must have been driving.
They had probably been on their way two hours before the time to the ceremony, how punctual and then this happened.
Now that explained everything. why he hadn't called, why he hadn't answered Vespera's messages.
And why he had read her text and not responded. He had been in an accident, possibly injured, definitely shaken.
And all she did was stand at that altar resenting him.
"How many people were in the car?" she pressed, needing to know the full picture.
The officer's expression remained neutral, professional. "Two occupants in total, ma'am. both have been transported to Mercy General."
"Two people, ranulf and whoever had been driving, It had to be david". The thought settled in her mind with the weight of certainty.
David had been with Ranulf for years. He knew the city and he always drove carefully.
But why did an accident have to occur specifically today? she quickly snaps out of that lane her thoughts were travelling towards.
Zareal had been in a car accident herself, she knew how fast things could spiral.
How in a second you were fine, and the next you were waking up in a hospital with your entire life shattered.
Her hip throbbed at the memory, a phantom echo of pain that never fully left.
"Where did you say he was taken?" Zareal asked, her voice steadier now, focused.
"Mercy General. Emergency department."
"How long ago?" Zareal asked again.
He checked his notes, squinting slightly in the flashing lights from the police cruisers. "Almost two hours".
He had been at the hospital for over two hours while she had been standing at a lighthouse, waiting.
His mother made phone calls that went to voicemail, while guests filtered out one by one, whispering behind their hands.
The guilt that twisted through her chest was sharp and hot. She had thought the worst of him. Had stood there convincing herself that he had chosen not to come, just to maybe punish her.
That he had read her message and decided she wasn't worth his time. That the ceremony his mother had arranged was beneath his notice.
But he had been here. In this intersection, being pulled out by paramedics and loaded into an ambulance while she was smoothing down her dress and checking her phone for the hundredth time.
"I need to go," Zareal said, already turning back toward the car.
Her cane struck the asphalt faster now, her movements urgent despite the pain shooting through her hip with each step. she didn't care as all she needed was to get to him.
Needed to see with her own eyes that he was okay. That consciousness meant function, and that transported meant safe.
"Ma'am, one more thing."
The officer's voice stopped her mid-stride. She turned back, impatient.
But he just quietly stared at her without uttering a word. zareal frowned, why was he now keeping her waiting when he wasn't saying anything?
"Oh, thank you," she said, the words coming out breathless. Perhaps maybe what he was waiting for?
She turned again and moved toward the car. Nadine was already there, pulling the door open. Zareal didn't slow down. She reached the car and climbed in, her movements faster than they had been all night.
The driver was waiting, his hands on the wheel, engine still running.
"Mercy General," Zareal said, settling into the seat. Her dress bunched around her legs, the fabric creased and was dirty now.
But she didn't care about that either. "Emergency department. Please hurry."
The driver nodded, checking his mirrors before pulling back into traffic.
Zareal pressed her hand against the window as they moved away from the scene. The wreckage grew smaller in the distance, but the image of it burned itself into her mind.
Ranulf had been in that car. The thought made her stomach turn.
Nadine settled into the front seat beside the driver, her posture straight, hands folded in her lap. She said nothing, and Zareal was grateful for that.
Cause she didn't think she could manage a conversation right now. Her mind was too full, racing with questions she didn't have answers to.
The city slid past outside the window, buildings she recognized and streets she had walked down before the accident that had led her to this moment.
The irony wasn't lost on her. She was rushing to the hospital to see a man who had been in a car accident.
The same man who had walked into her hospital room a year ago and stared at her like she was a stranger, even though she had recognized him immediately as the man from the gallery.
The man she had spent one perfect hour with, talking about art and light and the way Rothko could make you feel something without giving you anything concrete to hold onto.
That man had disappeared the moment the contract was signed.
But tonight, none of that mattered, tonight he was the one hurt, and she couldn't help but panic recklessly.
The car then took a turn onto a wider street. Here, traffic was lighter. they were now moving faster, with the buildings passing in quicker succession.
Zareal counted the blocks without any meaning to it. perhaps a nervous habit, something to focus on besides the worry gnawing at her chest.
Ten blocks, nine, eight, seven….
Her phone was still in her pocket. she pulled it out, the screen lit up. No new messages, no missed calls. She opened her contacts and found his name.
Her thumb hovered over it.
Should she call? would he even be able to answer? What if he was still being examined?
She put the phone back in her pocket without calling.
The hospital came into view ahead. white concrete, glass doors.
The emergency department entrance lit up bright against the darkening sky.
Zareal's heart hammered hard against her ribs.
And then the car pulled up to the curb, its tires crunching slightly as they stopped.
"We're here, ma'am."