Secrets I've Held in My Heart

Chapter 5 : Ava

My footsteps echoed with urgency down the stark hospital corridor, a reflection of the frantic rhythm that had taken over my heart and mind. The memory of my father's previous heart attack haunted me, each step carrying the weight of that terrifying ordeal. The unease in my chest was a constant companion, growing more suffocating with every stride. My thoughts raced alongside my pulse, a whirlwind of worry and dread. The vulnerability of my father, who had already endured one heart attack, gnawed at my thoughts. I couldn't shake the fear that this time might be even more dire, that history was cruelly replaying itself. The seconds seemed to stretch into eternity, my imagination painting vivid scenes of pain and suffering.The corridor seemed to narrow, as if the walls were closing in on my despair. The harsh, sterile lighting cast an unforgiving glow on my inner turmoil, a glaring reminder of the fragility of life. My composure wavered as I fought to control the storm of emotions surging within me. Tears threatened to spill from my eyes, a testament to the overwhelming helplessness I felt.

"Why, God? Why?" The words echoed silently in my mind, a desperate plea to understand the cruelty of fate. "Why did you have to turn things the way you did?

Why did you have to take this dramatic turnaround? In one moment, you made me believe that today was the most beautiful day of my life, and in the next, everything changed, with my love betraying me and my father lying in a death bed."

AFTER A FEW HOURS…

The operation theatre doors swung open, revealing a doctor in a worn blue uniform. Removing his mask, his eyes carried a weight of remorse and culpability. "I'm sorry," his voice trembled, "but time is running out." All of us gathered, our faces etched with concern. "You should see him before it's too late."

As I rushed in, each pounding of my heart seemed to fill my ears, drowning out the gentle beeping of the machines. As I looked at my dad lying there, so weak and helpless, my eyes filled with tears. I felt the floods of emotions like fear, despair, and a deep sense of helplessness, mixed with the desperation of wanting so badly to do something to help him. "Dad," a drop of tear rolled over my cheek. Everything felt so numb, including my tongue, I didn't know what and how to utter the further words.

"Bob," Alfred's voice quivered, his hand trembling slightly as it found its place beside my dad's. His eyes, usually brimming with confidence, now held a flicker of concern. "Don't worry, you'll be fine," he uttered, his words laced with a mix of anxiety and determination. "We will reach the best doctors in the world. We'll—"

"Listen," Dad's voice, filled with warmth and a tender smile, gently interrupted Alfred's words. "It's okay," he reassured, his eyes radiating a mixture of serenity and acceptance. "Listen, my friend," he continued, his tone heartfelt. "I don't think I have much time left. Everyone whom I love the most in this whole universe is here in this room." Dad's gaze shifted between me and Christian, and his lips curved into a comforting smile. "If death wants to take me now, then I'll consider myself the luckiest person to embrace it. I've been blessed with everything anyone could desire before bidding farewell." His gaze returned to Alfred, and he clasped his hand tightly. "Thank you for being the most remarkable best friend." A touch of mischievousness delicately brushed his melancholic voice, infusing a playful note into the sombre moment. "And please, hold onto our memories even when I'm gone."

"Uncle," Christian's voice wavered slightly, revealing the tremor of emotions beneath the surface, much like the rest of us who struggled to maintain composure in the face of uncertainty. "Don't say that. Dad's right. We'll do whatever it takes. You've got this—we believe in your strength."

Dad's gesture was tender and inviting, his hand extended towards Christian, "Christian," he beckoned, his voice carrying a warmth that transcended the heaviness of the moment. His other hand reached out to me, his eyes glistening with a mixture of affection and vulnerability, "Ava, come here."

"Dad," I whispered, my voice a gentle tremor that mirrored the emotions swirling within me.

"Uncle," Christian's voice joined in, his words soft and laden with a shared sense of understanding.

United, by the unbreakable bond that defined our family, we both came closer, our steps a reflection of the gravity of the situation. Side by side, we reached out and enveloped his outstretched hands with our own, a gesture that formed an unspoken circle of solidarity and love, a testament to the strength we drew from one another in this trying moment.

"I should've never agreed with the decision about you guys breaking your engagement," Dad's regret-filled words hung in the air, his gaze fixed on Christian with an earnest request shimmering in his eyes. "Christian, dear," he said with a hint of urgency, his voice laced with a profound sincerity, "I really, really love my daughter." Dad's gaze then shifted to me, his expression tender yet burdened with a weight of remorse. "If I had opposed that day, maybe she wouldn't be hurting like today. My heart aches to see you hurt, love."

His eyes then found mine, a mixture of longing and affection swirling within them. He gently placed my hand on top of Christian's, creating a symbolic connection between us. With a final glance at Christian, Dad's voice quivered with a plea, "The only person I can trust with my daughter's happiness is you. Please, never ever leave her side. Please, Christian, marry her."

"Dad…" I interjected gently, feeling the weight of his words and the depth of his emotions. It was a difficult moment, and as much as I valued his sentiment, I needed to voice my perspective. We can't let our decisions be influenced by this situation. It wouldn't be fair to either of us, especially for Christian, if we rushed into marriage just because my groom refused to show up.

"Consider it as my last wish, Ava," Dad's voice held a gentle yet earnest tone that tugged at my heartstrings. "I can rest in peace if I know that my daughter is in the right hands." His gaze shifted to Christian, a mixture of admiration, hope, and profound gratitude in his eyes. "I see the happiness he brings you," he added, his voice softening. Then, he looked back at me, his expression a blend of love and urgency. "So, please, promise me, dear. You'll marry him."

"Dad," my voice wavered, a mixture of emotions flooding my chest. It was hard to find the words that would convey the depth of my feelings – the desire to honour his request while also staying true to what felt right for both Christian and me.

The room was filled with the steady, rhythmic beeping of the medical machines, a constant reminder of the fragile line between life and the unknown death. His voice, though weakened, held a steady undertone of warmth and wisdom as he conveyed his final wishes to me. "Promise me, both of you," he implored, his words carrying a profound weight, "that you'll marry each other and stand together through thick and thin. Let loneliness find no place in your lives. Be each other's refuge, love, joy, and lifelong companion."

I can't do it. This would be so unfair to Christian. I can't marry him when my heart still beats for Jonas. I know Jonas abandoned me. He chose not to be here, to step back, to leave me stranded. But if moving on from loving someone were as effortless as letting the actions of a partner dictate our feelings, life wouldn't wield such a complex heartache. We can't just snap our fingers and carry on as if nothing happened. It's not that simple.

However, Christian's focus remained unwaveringly on my dad. With a determined yet emotional tone, he spoke, "I promise you, Uncle Bob. I'll stand by her through everything. I'll make sure she's always happy and cared for. I will..." Christian hesitated for a moment, his voice heavy with a swirl of emotions, and then continued with heartfelt conviction, "I'll marry her."

"Dad, I will…" I still couldn't say it. My tongue paralysed, my heart wrestling with a tangle of emotions.

As much as I loved and respected Christian, I couldn't bring myself to emotionally pressure him into a decision as significant as marriage, not even for the sake of my father who is lying on his deathbed. Instead, I observed as my dad's expression shifted from a smile to a serene calmness. The persistent beeping of the medical machines, which had been a constant backdrop during his hospital stay, gradually slowed, blending into a singular, uninterrupted tone. My heart ached, the weight of the moment sinking in as I realised his journey was coming to an end.

Tears streamed down my face as I clung to his hand, the connection a lifeline between us. With every heartbeat, I knew his words and love would forever echo within us, shaping our paths in the time to come.

Bob Rinehart was an exceptional man, his qualities radiating goodness that touched everyone around him. He was more than just a father; he was the embodiment of the best qualities a parent could possess, and I'll always love him.

To be continued…